Mexico 2.2

Monday was the day I spent a lot of time at the pool and at the beach. As a result, I got way too much sun and burned the shit out of my back. So Monday night, I wasn’t feeling all that well (and not due to alcohol, for once) so I called it a night after the show. I woke up Tuesday feeling rejuvenated, albeit, really sore because of my burn. I was forced to sport tees instead of tanks until my back was a little less angry with life.

I spent the morning walking into town. The village is supposed to be about 1km away. Normally, I can walk a kilometre in about 10 minutes; between the heat and the fact that I was strolling along really casually, I found myself walking for about 20 minutes and still hadn’t hit the town centre. And I was feeling the effects of the sun.

I stopped in at a little café and ordered a tea, a bottle of water and some baked goods. For a brief second, I worried about whether or not I brought enough money. The cashier asked me for 47pesos (roughly $4). I guess my worry was not warranted.

I spent 15 minutes or so, cooling off and preparing myself for the outside again. I started walking, but about five minutes down the road I still hadn’t found the town and was feeling the effects of the sun… again. I’m not exactly equipped with the pigmentation necessary for survival in hot climates. I decided to call it a day and head back; I walked down the beach back to my resort.

I brought my new fancy camera on this outing and found a lot of really cool old buildings and nice properties to take pictures of, but when I pulled out my camera and tried turning it on, it didn’t work. I worried that I broke it at some point and then realized that I charged the battery the night before. And left it in my hotel room. I didn’t bring my small camera, so missed out on a lot of photo opportunities.

On my walk down the beach I came across two couples just staring into the water. Naturally, I sidled up next to them to check out what they were checking out. It was a water snake, right by the shore; it looked like he was trying to bury himself in sand, but his progress was hampered by the relentless waves.

I cursed myself for not having a camera, again, and started walking back down the beach. One of the guys rushed to catch up to me, once he was by my side, he asked “So… where in Michigan are you from?”

“I’m not from Michigan…”, he asked where I was from; I told him, then he said “Oh… well… … it’s a cool hat anyway”. Riiigghhht. The “M” doesn’t actually stand for “Mexico”. *face palm*

That night, I went to the show with a mother-daughter duo. Mom was plowed almost every time I saw her on the resort and Daughter was known as “Plastic Girl” by everyone. She was the fakest thing I’ve ever seen: bleach blonde hair, fake eyelashes, fake boobs, fake nails, too tan and abnormally large lips.

Nice girl, but she was such a spectacle that all the little Mexican kids were gathering around and asking for pictures with her. They had never seen such a thing and I hadn’t either. She was also very proud of it all; she fully admitted to having a boob job, botox and lip injections done pretty much anytime it came up in conversation. To each their own.

After the show, I went to the disco, one of the dancers from the show was there. I think he’s so beyond sexy; he’s probably half the reason I went back to the same place. Anyway, I danced up a storm… and then went home… I guess. I don’t quite remember. I’ve come to the conclusion that tequila creates gaps in my memory. I should definitely stay away from that stuff in the future.

Mexico 2.1

Sunday I woke up late (~1:30pm), between the sleep deprivation and hangover, I didn’t leave my room until 5pm. I handed in some paperwork, walked around the resort for half an hour and then went back to bed. I awoke around 8pm feeling much better; I got cleaned up and went out in search of food.

I left my big, blue cup at home because I “wasn’t really going to drink” and went about my night. Dinner, nightly show, followed by the disco once again. The disco, where I drank more than I should have… again.

The girl from the lawn was there, we started chatting and dancing. She got up on the bar and danced while the bartenders watched and continued slinging drinks. White girls seem to get away with pretty much anything in Mexico. At one point, she staggered over to me…

I simply asked “Why?”, she responded with “Why not?”. I said “I dunno… I’ve never kissed a girl before”, she thought this was all the more reason to do it. Next thing I know, she’s kissing me.

She pulled away and said “So….??”, I shrugged my shoulders and said “Meh…”. She got all indignant and offended: “What do you mean “Meh”?! You didn’t like it? Why didn’t you like it?! What’s wrong with you?!?!”

Then she walked away all in a huff and started making out with the guy from the lawn. I continued chatting up the bartender, Catarino, at one point he looked over at her and nodded in her direction:

Catarino: I don’t like her.

Me: Really?! Why not?

Catarino: Because she kissed you…

Me: Oh… … … okay…

Catarino: You kissed her too.

Me: So does that mean you don’t like me either?

Catarino: No, I like you.

Me: Why? What’s the difference?

Catarino: Because you didn’t like it.

I remember telling the bartender that I needed to go home; he asked if I wanted someone to walk me there. I pathetically agreed to the escort. The security guard took me outside and we waited for my escorts to arrive. I was really drunk and just wanted my bed. I told him this; he said we were just waiting for the other security guards to get there.

I told him I was just going to go by myself because I was tired of waiting and “was just fine”; he said “Show me”. I got up, took a few stumbling steps in the direction of my room; he said “No, no, no”, grabbed my arm and had me sit down once again. If his English was better, he probably would have said “Sit down before you fall down”.

My escorts arrived and walked me to my room; upon arrival, I immediately went to the bathroom to take out my contacts. But I was so intoxicated, I couldn’t do it. I assure you, this has never happened before. I decided sleeping with contacts in isn’t going to kill me one time and I staggered to bed and crashed.

I woke up the next day, surprisingly early, feeling, unsurprisingly hungover. I immediately hopped in the shower to wash away my illness; but I was feeling so under the weather, that I decided to sit down throughout the duration of my ablutions.

The shower didn’t have the best set up and the shower curtain was a bit unruly. I didn’t much care, given the state I was in. The moment I stepped out of the shower, I realized I probably should have cared a bit more. It looked like half of the shower water had escaped the confines of the stall and flooded the bathroom… and my entrance way… and it even went out my door.

There I was, completely hungover, trying to mop up litres and litres of water from my room using only my bathmat. It was inefficient at best.

Devastation central

I haven’t forgotten about this thing I call a blog. And by “I call”, I mean, “everyone on Earth calls”. Doubtful that “everyone on Earth” knows about this blog… but whatever. The point is I’m really upset about something.

I can’t make my tablet work. The touch function works so I thought it was my pen; I bought a new one and it still doesn’t work. I’m really upset. And my next Mexico post REQUIRES pictures. And a track pad just doesn’t cut it. I’m going to break out my mouse and see if that helps the situation, but I’m not optimistic.

Anybody know anything about drawing tablets?

*giant sad face*

Mexico 2.0

There are only two words that can be used to describe my second trip to Mexico: fucking train wreck. Okay, that was three words, but that’s just how much of a train wreck this trip was.

Last time, I was drinking enough that my liver was able to keep pace with the marathon of alcohol consumption that I put it through. This time, not so much. Next time, I’ll need to practice drinking a lot more before I leave to try and avoid the whole scene I caused.

Oh my.

Oh well, what happens in Mexico stays in Mexico, right? Except for when you blog about it afterwards… fuck.

I guess the beginning is the best place to start. I had an early morning flight on Saturday. Friday, I left work, got some dinner, ran some errands and finished up packing the last few remaining items. I talked on the phone with Dave and then went to bed around 11:30pm, desperately in need of a nap.

I got woken up around 1:45am to Thailand tapping on my window; I tried going back to sleep but was unsuccessful. For some reason. We left my place around 3:45am, I got some breakfast at the airport and was on the plane for 6:30am.

I managed to sleep for about an hour on the plane; a feat only accomplished by severe sleep deprivation (less than six hours of sleep between Thursday and Friday night). I arrived at the resort around 3pm, checked in, found my room and got cleaned up. While checking out my home-away-from-home, I opened the blinds and took in the view.

Don’t see it?

That’s right… The pathway from my room led directly to the bar. Trouble. So, what did I do? I went to check out my home-away-from my home-away-from-home: a barstool at Bar 6. Within half an hour, I met a group from Prince George and started partying with them. Tequila shots, vodka cocktails, vodka shots, rum cocktails; we had them all. Have I mentioned that I hadn’t eaten lunch or dinner? Yeah… trouble.

Come 8pm (or some time later when I convinced my party that I needed food or else), we went for dinner, but due to my extreme inebriation, I was less than successful and left most of my plate untouched.

We went to the nightly show and then… some things happened. It starts getting a little hazy at this point. I definitely lost the group and probably ended up at the disco. Next thing I know, I’m sitting on the lawn outside of the disco, talking with some chick. A couple of her friends come up, and then a couple of guys. Her friends take off, and then her and one guy take off. I was left with the other dude.

Seeing where this was headed, I made a point of mentioning that I was tired and needed to go home. Or so I thought. Turns out I’d made a point at mentioning this repeatedly throughout my time on the grass because I saw the girl and the guy at the disco the next night, buddy said to me “Oh – you’re the tired girl!”. Nice.

Eventually, I went home. Somehow. I managed to make it in the door, take out my contacts and crawl into bed fully dressed before passing out completely.

Another post to follow!