But every once in a blue moon, something turns out far better than you could have possibly imagined.
I can't think of a more relaxing or indulgent time in my entire life. Four days of eating, drinking, sleeping, shopping, and flopping on the beach? Yes please! I was worried Cancun couldn't possibly live up to me expectations, but it did me one better: it exceeded them. Sitting here at my computer in the basement, it's hard to believe that it wasn't all a dream...
|En route to Mexico, before the sh*t hit the fan.|
Sarah eventually managed to get us all booked on a flight to Chicago, followed by a four-hour layover, and finally on a flight to Cancun that landed at 9:00 pm. We lost almost an entire day of fun, but we made it to Mexico, and that was all that mattered. We found Kim at the hotel, walked across the street to the mall, and looked for a restaurant. Our options were endless, as long as we didn't want actual Mexican food. Johnny Rockets didn't seem appropriate and we weren't in the mood for Italian, so we found the closest thing we could to the real deal: Chili's. Let me tell you, those chips and salsa never tasted so good. The margaritas helped immensely.
You know what also helped immensely? Waking up to this:
|The view from our balcony.|
|The water really is that blue.|
|Note the coaster stuck to my drink. I was too happy to notice.|
|We had a lot of fun with this here doorway.|
|You say, "Jump!" I say, "How high?"|
When we hit the mainland, we walked past a bungee jumping center. "Come on ladies!" the vendor yelled. "It's gonna happen!"
Of course, it absolutely wasn't gonna happen: we're talking a fifty-foot tall rickety wooden tower over about five feet of water. But I admired his tenacity. Until he asked if we were from Louisiana. Seriously? He finally guessed California and I forgave him. But bungee jumping still wasn't gonna happen.
That night we decided to go to a club. We just had no idea which one. Fortunately, our towel boy came up with the perfect solution. "Go to Coco Bongo," he said. He seemed pretty serious about it. So we went.
Coco Bongo was the single most bizarre experience of my life. It's one part night club, one part Vegas show, one part Cirque de Soleil, and eight parts insane. I know that's a lot of parts. You just have to take my word for it. We somehow ended up in some kind of VIP section, which was great in that it separated us from the riffraff. Unfortunately, it meant we showed up on the big screen at least a dozen times. Dancing in public is not my favorite. Seeing my ass on a giant screen in front of a thousand people is right up there in "worst nightmare" territory. Fortunately, I was distracted by the spectacle of a Mexican Freddie Mercury, a pervy Beetle Juice, and a loincloth-clad Jesus on a cross made of curtains.
|There are no words.|
|Ah, memories. I shall always look back on this photo and smile. Or weep.|
And so I say to Mexico: "Hasta luego, amigo." Until later, my friend. Because I will be back. Oh yes, I will be back.