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!