The Time I Visited an Island Full of Fruit-Wearing Monkeys

Last night I dreamt that I was studying abroad in London, and it was time for the weekend trip. A few people I'm not too excited about and I decided to take RyanAir to the island of Vanuatu. (I'm not actually sure where that is.) We left London and landed in this little open-air airport. Then we piled on the back of a truck with all our luggage and I kept wondering why everyone brought so much luggage for four days, especially when they had to pay by the bag.
On the truck with us was the tour guide's pet giant Rhesus monkey, which was about 5'6" and wearing a giant piece of fruit around his torso like people wear barrels in old cartoons. The tour guide showed us how he'd taught the monkey to say some English words, which was freaky considering the monkey was standing upright and human-sized.

Finally we arrived at the beach, where we were to watch the mating rituals of the giant monkeys wearing giant pieces of fruit—giant squishy melons with stripy yellow, orange, or green skin with cloyingly fragrant red pulp. We saw the monkeys lining up to pull the fruit over their heads, bursting through the top, with the females on one side of the beach and the males on another. Then the males started running towards the females, who scattered in all directions.
Some of the women watching with me decided to pull on some giant fruit themselves. I was thinking, Are you crazy?! but then I also wanted to fit in. I finally decided against donning a fruit because I knew I'd probably have an allergic reaction to all that plant material running down my skin. As my comrades tugged on their fruit, the male monkeys caught their scent, and then we were all running, running, running with the female giant monkeys, leaving a trail of super-sweet juice behind us.