My friend Mary wrote a blog about a trip we took to Mexico a few years ago and I giggled so hard that I decided I wanted to give my two cents about that very same trip. It’s funny how, after the years go by, people remember things differently.
Most of what she says about our trip really happened…but what exactly? Well, that’s for the two of us to know.
When we arrived at our incredible resort, our room wasn’t quite ready…so we grabbed our suits from our bags and headed to the pool. Mind you, we’d thought ahead and brought our own cups for the all-inclusive cervezas because the ones they give you are equivalent to that of a mouthwash cup.
When we settled in our loungers, we decided to speak in British accents – because we’re so damn good at it – and we did so very, very loudly as to make sure that all of the other holiday-goers could hear us. I remember it only taking us about three minutes before we realized that half of the United Kingdom was actually in Nuevo Vallarta on holiday and we looked like stupid Americans.
Brits: 1, Americans: 0.
I introduced little Mary to tequila that day, something I’m usually only friendly with in Mexico. There is just something about drinking tequila in Mexico that makes me feel culturally sound. It’s kind of like getting a Sapporo with my sushi. It’s just something I feel like I should do. If I were in Australia, I’d probably drink Foster’s (it’s Australian for beer)…or a Guinness in Ireland. Get it?
The only thing that I dislike more than tequila is undressed, HOT tequila. Tequila that’s been sitting in the sun for so long that it’s pretty much boiling. Eww. Eww. Eww. I’m not sure that Mary’s had tequila since that day…
Upon the recommendation of Mary’s co-worker, we made plans to go to this littleittybitty island called Yelapa. We set out on this “booze cruise” at the crack of dawn and quickly became the stars of the show. We did a conga line around the boat, and danced our faces off with the crew. They sang me happy birthday and I believe we did the cha-cha slide….not very well, I might add. Of course, to get your money, they video tape the entire thing and you can buy it when the day is over….I’ll save the rest of that story for the end….
So, by the time we made it to Yelapa, we were pretty darn boozed….we had made friends with a couple of people the night before and had made plans to meet them on the beach in Yelapa. Let me tell you, this littleittybittytiny island cannot be accessed by car, only by boat, and it’s not very close. To anything. It’s a legit island with third world country type living arrangements, a bar, some horses/donkeys, and a gigantic waterfall. That’s about it. But it is like heaven. Anyway, those friends we met, were actually there, tanning on the beach, waiting for us. I don’t really remember much more about that, except we went to have a drink with them, just before we got back on the boat….they were really nice though. I have no clue what their names were, or where they lived, but they were nice. I love vacation friends. They make me happy.
So, in Yelapa, after we got off of the boat, we decided that instead of drinking, or hiking to the waterfall, we wanted to rent a horse/donkey to take us there. Now, here is where they trick you. You pay something like $56 to go to this littleittybittytinyteensy island and for lunch, and all the alcohol you can drink, and you get to go snorkle…and they tell you that you can ride horses to see this incredible waterfall….what they DO NOT tell you, is that you have to pay an additional $24 to rent your horse – that is actually a 183 year old donkey whose penis looks like a withered piece of rope that someone found in 1848. I may throw up just thinking about that. They were so ewwwwww.
So…Us? Hike? Yeahright. We paid for our jackasses and tried our best to maneuver the reigns with one hand and our drinks with the other. We rode through this quaint little town and were stormed by the 38 kids that lived there. They were all holding the prettiest little flowers for us to take. I took one. I thought it was the sweetest little gesture. Until the little twerp started screaming ONE DOLLAR at me. Shiz. FINE! Here’s your ONE DOLLAR. It’s the equivalent of at least $32 here. I’m assuming.
I put the pretty flower in my hair and rode away, while the kiddos ran after us on the trail. We giggled at ourselves for not being able to steer our donkeys correctly and just kind of let them go where they wanted to. And alas, they brought us to the magnificent waterfall. It was beautiful. Absolutely beautiful. I couldn’t wait to jump in the water. As we got closer, I saw that same little shiz of a child that had bamboozled me for my ONE DOLLAR FLOWER earlier and guess what he was doing? Little monkey was flipping me off. Yes, an eight year old little boy was flipping me the bird. I don’t speak Spanish fluently, or sign language….but that one I know.
It was pretty funny…..but I was going to get the little alien back. He just didn’t know it yet!
We jumped in the water and wound up playing with the kids. We were throwing them across the pond and giggling the whole time. By the end of the day, I wanted to pack the little boy in my purse and take him back to civilization with me. I loved him…even though my jackass of a horse had more manners than he.
I’ll spare you the rest of the journey home….it involved mas cervezas y alcohol-o. We were still the stars of the show….and I’m certain there were some mothers that were trying to cover the eyes of their innocent children. Do you think I bought the dvd? You bet your arse I did. I couldn’t WAIT to get home to watch the shiz show. Mary and I swore that we would never show it to anyone….and we never have…and NEVER WILL.
When we got back to our resort….Little Mary was three sheets to the wind and decided that walking to our room was WAYToOMUCHWORK so she just decided to lie down on the sidewalk. The sweetest little old maid I’ve ever seen sprinted to Mary with a handful of towels and tried to guard Mary’s backside from being scorched. Mary couldn’t have cared less if she burned herself. I’m not even sure she knew who or where she was. We finally got her to the room though….she needed to sleep it off.
Not me though….I headed back down to the pool for some mas tequila.
I’m not sure if it was that night or the next but we decided that we wanted to go into Puerto Vallarta and explore. We made friends with some of the hotel workers…the Animation Staff, as they liked to call themselves…..There was Roberto…from Mexico City and some guy from the UK….I’ll call him Thomas…
We knew they were safe because after we got in the cab I, very sternly, asked them if they were going to “Natalie Holloway us”. They said no and that was good enough for us. I also sent my cousin in Dallas a text (that probably cost $47 to send) and told him that if he didn’t hear from me by the next day, I was kidnapped and killed in Mexico by a man named Roberto. Yes. I really thought that would be enough to solve the crime. Roberto in Mexico? Really Taylor? Use your brain. If I ever have children….they are not going ANYWHERE without me. Or a leash.
Ok, sorry, I got a little sidetracked.
We made plans with them to go to later that night….and one of their cab driver friends would drive us. There is something about cabs there….you can only go INTO Puerto Vallarta in a white cab…and INTO Nuevo Vallarta in a yellow cab. Well…..Let me tell you something. You better listen to them when they tell you that because the federales will be all up in your business if you try to take a white cab back to Nuevo Vallarta. Just ask Mary. We got back into the white cab (knowing that we weren’t supposed to, of course) to go home…..and BAM. Sirens. Shiz. Shiz. Shiz. We’re getting pulled over. Before the driver stops, he takes of all of his gorgeous gold jewelry and throws it at Mary, telling her to hide it. She is BAWLING HYSTERICALLY in the front seat, hugging her knees…telling this man that she does not want any part of his stolen jewelry nonsense. Roberto and I are in the backseat laughing at her and he’s trying to tell her to stop being such a stupid American. I’m giggling and taking photos of her so I will always remember the moment. She was mumbling something about her sweet son and how he was going to have to live with his father and yada yada yada. I was still giggling. She did NOT think I was funny.
I did. And still do.
Oh viva la Mexico.
I’m ready to go back…who wants to take me?
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