No further chatter about maybe hooking up later?  Poor Rusty…  Here I thought he’d be the youngest member of the Mile-High Club…

The expressions on Mark & Cherry’s faces are curious- almost dreadful… expecting the worst?  Rusty continues to comment of relative size and congestion of airports…  While Mark continues to call out the obvious…  But Mark, isn’t there luggage to pick up?  Or are you going to spend the week in your faded-red, now-pink chamois cloth shirt?

As we continue to eavesdrop on our two young-uns,  Rusty feels compelled to testify…

Is his left hand on a bible?  What strange hand gestures the Lost Forest Denizens are forced to offer up!  And are we to suppose that this “coincidence” will continue to ripen into, “Oh!  and we are staying at AZYOULIK as well… AS YOU LIKE… I didn’t pick up on that until one of the faithful pointed that out to me…  Remember!  Clothing Optional!!!

Gotta hand it to Rusty… moving in for the close, without so much as a hesitation.  Maybe he’s been practicing on the woodland creatures at home!

One of the problems (opportunities?) with the comics form is the lack of sound…  But then it’s fun to think about what the characters sound like…  to wit, let’s imagine the voice of our teenage (tween?) characters below…

We all know that girls mature faster than boys, and in fact the male’s brain doesn’t fully form until well into his twenties… Where the female form and brain are fully operational in Junior High school.  OK, that total hearsay and I sort of made that up, but it’s mentioned so often it has to be true!  So back to the soundtrack- I hear Mara’s voice all smooth and silky, while Rusty sounds like his name- an oxidized old gate hinge exposed to the weather for decades… not even sure whether it works or not…

And of course you are going to Mexico, you little twit- that’s where the plane is going!!

Judging by the look on Rusty’s face, he’s either 1. Playing is totally cool, or 2. feeling the effects of the Benadryl and Dramamine that Cherry slipped him prior to boarding the plane…

Yea, yea, yea… enough of the Santa Poco malarkey, Mark…  It’s not even a real place…

But what’s this?  Rusty is making a “Friend?”  Good heavens, he doesn’t even have one, and now he’s in a most agreeable situation with a fellow female passenger… who, aside from her gray hair, seems to be about his age?  Same size, anyway…

With Ed Dodd as a witness, I don’t think we’ve ever seen Mark speak out of the side of his mouth… which he appears to be doing in the third panel… and the look on Rusty’s face in panel two is what?  Rapture?  Like he just (say it isn’t so…) relieved himself?

As we engage in idle and improbable banter, while still wondering where Rusty is stowed for the flight, it’s clear that Mark has kept the details of this trip to himself…

Let’s find out about where they are going, assuming that all these places are legit…

AZYOULIK–  (from Google…) Hotel details- Set in a tropical jungle, this upmarket, adults-only, clothing-optional hotel (should be interesting?!) is steps from the beach and 6 km from Tulum.  Offering thatched roofs, and terraces with sea or jungle views, the rustic-chic, electricity-free villas come with bathrooms, in-room tubs and beds with mosquito nets, as well as safes. Upgraded villas add individual features such as private beach access and outdoor tubs and/or hanging beds.  Amenities include a bar/lounge. There’s also a spa with massage and therapeutic treatments, yoga and traditional Mayan steam baths and ceremonies. Parking is free, and phone or battery charging stations are available.

TULUM– Tulum is a town on the Caribbean coastline of Mexico’s Yucatán Peninsula. It’s known for its beaches and well-preserved ruins of an ancient Mayan port city. The main building is a large stone structure called El Castillo (castle), perched on a rocky cliff above the white sand beach and turquoise sea. Near the ruins is the Parque Nacional Tulum, a coastal area with mangroves and cenotes (natural limestone sinkholes).

 

SANTA POCO (Little Saint?) and THREE AMERICAN COWBOY ACTORS–   Yes, none other than Martin Short, Chevy Chase and Steve Martin that seminal John Landis piece, THE THREE AMIGOS!  It would also appear that Santa Poco is not a real place,  but one conjured for the movie itself…

Once again, we are left to wonder what’s become of Mark and Cherry Trail’s adopted son…  Did he make it onto the plane with them?  Is he in the pressurized cargo hold?

Nevertheless, here we find the perpetual lovebirds, absorbed in their own, well, thing… Room for two, please, and no disturbances…

Still, I’m thinking they are heading to Cancún International Airport, (CUN) one of a ridiculous number of airports in Mexico…  who knew?  I guess I shouldn’t make assumptions, like the one Rusty did when he marveled at the size of the airport from which they departed…

As their plane wings its way out of Hartsfield-Jackson Atlanta International Airport, Cherry reminds Mark of an adventure that he’d just as soon forget…

As Mark recalls the horrors of being trapped by flowing lava and being forced to cliff-jump into the sea, all the color drains from his face and he suddenly appears gaunt and wan…  While all Cherry remembers is ordering up Mai-tais by the pool and that shirtless, conch-blowing cabana boy…

Fashion police are everywhere!  You never know!!

But what will be equally surprising is when they try to clear customs and realize that they forgot to get Rusty a Passport!  But, true that they probably couldn’t clear the security line stateside without proof that they were going to be good on the other end…

But certainly we who dwell in the BOLD NORTH (no longer the MIDWEST) can only dream of an expat life where the only threats are Hurricanes and a periodic bout with Tourista…

So… it appears that they are going to be hitting up all the tourist traps, even the ones that are ostensibly historical…

And if I wanted to be schooled, I would be focusing on the Sunday installment of Mark Trail, not the dailies…  Yet here we are being instructed on the pre-historic cities, structures and people of Central America…  But with these clues, it looks like they are heading to the Yucatan Peninsula… Cancun?  Cozumel?  Some rustic fishing village where Mark has an old friend that will put them up in hammocks for cheap?

A return to all that is good in the world!  White folks going on Spring Break!  And Why aren’t they dressed up?  Why are they still in their work-a-day cabin apparel?  Where’s your suit and tie, Mark?

Mark sounds almost surprised to have stumbled upon their departure gate, and Rusty is agog over the scale of the operation…  Mark and Cherry really need to let that lad out of his cage more often…  But is Rusty being sincere or attempting a joke in the second panel?  Difficult to tell!!  Nevertheless, Mark offers a genuine grin at his naive comment…

Question is now how do they run into Dirty??  Or vice versa?  Sure they are in the same hemisphere now, but still worlds apart… a seismic (literally) shift in the Earth’s plates will bring the Caribbean in contact with Central America?  Only in the Trailverse…

Yesterday we learned that the other Mister Smith has a familiar name…

From Moss Moses:

Manuel Blanco Romasanta is Spain’s first documented serial killer. In 1853 Romasanta admitted to thirteen murders, claiming he was not responsible as he was suffering from a curse that turned him into a wolf. Wikipedia
Born: November 18, 1809, Province of Ourense, Spain
Died: December 14, 1863, Ceuta, Spain

From Bryant, Esq.:

I detect unplumbed depths in our Mr. Allen, based upon his sly reference to the unnatural amidst his detailed depiction of the natural.

Your reference to Dirty, like the pelican (definitely not a heron), having bitten off more than he could chew is even more perspicacious than might be evident. Romasanta, a/k/a the Wolf of Allariz a/k/a the Tallow Man, confessed at his trial to a spot of cannibalism in addition to making candles of the fat of his victims, pleading not guilty because he had been cursed and committed his murders of various salesmen, officers and customers only during his intermittent involuntary transformations into a werewolf.

http://www.theparanormalguide.com/blog/manuel-blanco-romasanta-the-werewolf-of-allariz

So now that we know that the other Mr. Smith is either a demon or a time-traveler, or is taking inspiration from the past, the plot both confuses and gels simultaneously…

And as the increasingly bulked-up Dirty “Call me Mr. Smith” Dyer orders another round from the taciturn Semo, along with multiple platters, all charged to yet another unknown character, is he still looking to impress, planning to entertain, or simply gorge himself?

Dirty seems so incredibly pleased with himself these days.  No questioning, no remorse over recent events… never mind that he is probably a wanted man after the authorities found King Tut dead in his office…  All bulked up and smiling like he’s got the world by the tail…

All I can say is that the pelican or egret or whatever it is in panel three had better get ready for a long period of awful digestion…  I really don’t think that iguana is going to go down or process very well… a great metaphor for Dirty- probably biting off more than he can chew!

I guess there’s only one name to use when you aren’t using your real name… Smith!

But for all we know this fellow’s real name might be Smith… one never knows in these circles of intrigue…  And Dirty keeps throwing money around…  other than the contents of the safe, does he have other evil enterprises earning him additional dollars?  Sort of like Virtucon, the front for Dr. Evil?

He’s adulting and set on building a squad… starting with an Executive Assistant!  That’s the easiest way to promote oneself… form your own company!  File the LLC and boom! You’re your own boss!  Even if that’s a little Sus…

Throwing cash around like he has it to throw around! Lookin’ for a little Respeck!  Plus a Rad and Savage “burner cell phone,” right out of the pages of Breaking Bad!  Gus and others would go through one or two an episode!  Little flip phones that they would snap in half and throw away after finishing a conversation to avoid detection and traceability… the production company probably bought them by the gross…

Other observations… Nipples.  You don’t see them often in the comics, there they are… once you see them, you can’t avert your gaze. Amiright?  Dirty’s and Semo’s physiques.  They are getting more swol by the day.  That grin.  If that isn’t shade, I don’t know what is!  The eyepatch… on fleek!

Finally, in an attempt to appeal to the Millennial Generation, and the vernacular that goes with them, I’m done chillin for now on the Trail, and it’s time to bounce… if you want to know what the heck I’m saying, go here…

What is his supposed pedigree?  Upon the word of a waiter (or, hey, he might be the proprietor…) he gets an invite to Valhalla for the Angry and Disenfranchised Rich?

Just who is this resident?  A former mercenary?  Roland the Headless Thompson Gunner?  Former CIA a la Mitch Rapp?

And why, for the love of Mike, do we have words like discreet?  And its cousin discrete?  Complete Homonyms, or homographs re-ordering two letters at the end, resulting in completely different meanings??  Pity the soul who has to learn English as a second language!  We claim to live by rules and laws, but as with most things in life, we are governed by the exceptions!

As we are drawn by intrigue (dare I admit it?) over what is going on here, we are brought closer to the conversation and potentially the inner workings of the Dirty Mind…

Let’s see…  vamos a ver…  Weapons for Dummies (doesn’t exist,) Calvin and Hobbes (pick one, right?) and To Serve Man… which apparently is a cookbook?  So this fellow addressing Dirty isn’t just any service industry lackey, he obviously has multiple useless degrees under his belt and looks for opportunities to… well… “show off” a bit…

With the help playing the role of the messenger, and getting a dressing down for his trouble, Chris “Dirty” Dyer is relaxing and resting up for a big event… “a special occasion” funded by the gold bars in King Tut’s carelessly left open safegold bars in King Tut’s carelessly left open safe…

But Gunshots in the Jungle?  Didn’t Dirty allude to going someplace for “training?”  Wouldn’t that allow someone to fire off rounds with impunity?

…we really prefer that our guests wear clothing…  If it’s a nude beach you want, it’s at the other end of the island…

Knife throwing!  Ha!  Will the gags never end?!  For what it’s worth, though, looks like Ol’ Dirty has gotten pretty good at it if the target in the background is any indication…

Ah, at last.  we are removed from Lost Forest and deposited on what appears to be a tropical island complete with Seabirds, a too-close-for-comfort prop jet and a distant shot of a man being served…  Dirty Dyer under a particularly creative alias…

Harbour Island, Bahamas… boy what I wouldn’t give to be there after the 20″ of snow that has been deposited in the Twin Cities over the weekend!

I wonder what’s in a “Gun Club Punch…”  Rum, to be sure…