I am in a constant love affair with the pen. As I write this now in longhand, I am using a glorious Conway Stewart. Soon I will have to type this and rob every letter of its grace. Fountain, ballpoint, quill -- I love all the ink dripping tools. My fave is, of course, the Orpheo Versailles LE, a beauty beyond belief.

So when I heard about an all-inclusive vacation package called Pen Island, I nearly shat myself. Me, pens, pen lovers, pen-centered lectures and activities -- all I can say is YES, YES, YES! I signed up right away and packed that same night. I brought some old standbys to show off, lots of extra shirts in case of ink spillage, and a fat wad of cash for purchasing goodies.

I was hoping to spot one of the new Namiki’s that incorporate something called “Chinkin.” I was also hoping to meet a pen-lover who might love me. Would there be a better chance to meet a lady that shared my interest in fancy writing utensils? Probably not.

When the plane arrived at the secluded hotel, I looked around, a little confused. It was beautiful, don’t get me wrong, but the wise, old tress spreading their branches in a noble, quiet way was a little strange. It was lush and green and buzzing with animal noises, but it looked to me like we were in a forest.

I asked the airport shuttle driver if this was actually, technically an island. His answer was, “Are you stupid or something?” Must have been having a bad day.

I checked in at the front desk and went straight to my room. I unpacked a little, took a shower, shaved, and got ready to pen/lady hunt.

Down at the hotel bar there were a few men in sleeveless shirts, one of them wearing a cowboy hat. I ordered a Long Island Iced Tea. One of the guys with no sleeves, a Hispanic fellow sporting gel in his hair, sat next to me and smiled wildly.

“Hey cutie, what are you into?”

“I like an ST Dupont, a Visconti, or, of course, a Waterman, oh, or a Paul Smith. My all-time favorite is the Orpheo Versailles LE. I love that thing.”

He looked mightily confused and continued some small talk before becoming disinterested and glassy-eyed and then leaving.

I finished my drink and thought I’d peruse the grounds to see if any pens were up for sale this late. Or maybe some accessories. Or maybe a video of a pen being made would be showing somewhere. Instead I was bombarded with men dancing closely to me, loud music, and lots of drinking. Not a pen in sight. I went into the halls and conference rooms, everywhere. No pens. Something was up.

First of all, Pen Island wasn’t actually an island. I could handle that, sure, but no pens at a pen-themed vacation? What the hell? I went back into the frenzied dance area. The music was pounding into my ears, and men kept accidentally grabbing my ass. I cornered a chubby, bearded guy and demanded to know what was going on.

“Sorry you got the wrong place. This is no Pen Island. This is Penis Land.”

And I nearly fainted. I was stunned. He continued to tell me what kind of things went on here: glory holing, penis fencing, dick massage, and the biggest donger contest. Not what I expected. How could I have not figured this out? By not reading the brochure properly, by not asking questions, and by assuming that the company’s tagline, “We’ll fill you up” had to with ink. Did I cry a little? Yes indeedy. Did I curse and try to get a refund? You’re damned right. But then I said, “What the hell, I’m already here. I may as well enjoy it.”

Now mind you, I’m as straight as the next straight guy, but I had a roaring good time. A romp if you will. I felt so pretty the whole time, like a princess at a ball. No, I actually was literally a princess at a ball they threw. There was a screening of Bareback Mountain, a creative spoof on the popular film Brokeback Mountain. I placed third in the odd prick contest. I also got greased up by a Russian guy and painted a painting with nothing but paint and my johnson. How quaint!

So no, I didn’t find a female pen fanatic to share my life with, but you know what? I did have a vacation to remember. Penis Land comes highly recommended from yours truly.

Until next time.