So it turns out there really is such a thing as too many margaritas.
We’re into day five of our Cabo trip and I can officially say that I, for one, have had enough margaritas to last this lifetime. We have had them with lunch almost every day (and let me tell you, me and tequila that early in the day make sthe rest of the day, well, blurry) then again in the afternoon and evening. Occasionally we branch out and do tequila shots as well.
While the rest of the houseguests hit the clubs until one or two in the morning, we hit the hay about eleven and sleep like logs because we apparently lack the staying power (or, alternatively, value our remaining brain cells more) than the rest of our fellow revelers. This means we’re pretty bright-eyed and bushy-tailed by 7am, while most everybody else is still sleeping off the high jinks of the night before. So we’ve been getting runs in every morning, and the hills around here are killer! Yesterday we ran up one that felt like it was close to a 90 degree angle. Phew!
The other day I earned the title of “Yellow-Bellied Coward of the Trip” by wussing out on parasailing. I made it all the way onto the boat before chickening out. Chuck did it and had a blast, and he didn’t give me too hard a time, which I thought was very decent of him. So it goes. To prove I am not a total boring old fogey I did actually get out on the dance floor of Cabo Wabo to “dance” (which for me means hopping around like a bunny) with Chuck for one song. We managed to last about an hour after which time we had to sign to each other (our hearing having completely failed) that we were ready to go. The place was very americanized (all disco balls and LED lights) and the video screens appeared to be running non-stop videos of Sammy Hagar. There was a cage for dancers (very 70s disco) and when we were there a sad and bad dancer in a leisure suit up there was swaying and demonstrating some phenomenally bad moves to a completely disinterested crowd. The highlight was when the oldest member of our group, a 62-year-old woman married to a rich 72-yar-old businessman, was hit on persistently by a drunk or high woman who wanted to dance and/or marry an American. Weird. I did get a souvenir shirt to prove I was there.
Today we hung by the pool and had a quiet day then went to a local place for dinner and, God help me, margaritas.
We head home tomorrow and I can now say I’ve been to Mexico. I can also say that I’d come back. And maybe even someday I’ll have another margarita. I’ll post more pics when I’m somewhere with a more reliable wireless connection. We’ve been enjoying intermittent wireless here at the villa. It does beat dialup, but only just. Then again we arrived here expecting nothing so having any wireless came as a surprise.