Thursday, March 15, 2007

Perfecto Majecto!

I keep writing and re-writing this post and it's yaaaaawnsville. Who wants to read "we landed at an airport and took a car to our hotel." I mean of course you did tardo!

So here I'll highlight the most hilarious/wonderful parts of our trip to Playa del Carmen, Mexico.


This bar that we happened upon while wandering down Cinqueta Lane (or whatever it was called) turned out to be our best friend the whole trip. First of all they had karaoke. KARAOKE! Yes people this means I've now done karaoke on every major trip I've taken. In London girls danced around my ex while he sang Pink Floyd. In San Francisco my rendition of "Suddenly Seymour" with Eliza brought a woman to tears. And in Mexico, well let's just say the audience was mucho entertained-o.

Turn Around, Bright Eyes

Carrie and I made friends with the karaoke DJ the night before (as is our way) and when we walked in he said in the mic, to the waiter Armando (who, might I add, was maybe the hottest person EVER – pictures of his abs coming up), "I know those ladies… give them shots!" I had been drinking vodka all night but far be it for me to turn down a free shot even if it is the devils juice: tequila. (We were at Tequila Barrel. What did you think they'd give us?)

The final night of our trip was the greatest at TB. Throughout our stay there we kept running into a gal on her own named Summer and she's an integral part of the remainder of this section so I'll combine the two.

As Bananas As She Looks

Summer was in Playa for a wedding. We met her the first night there (well Carrie met her as I went to the bathroom) at the only place people really hung out, The Blue Parrot ( i.e. the bane of my existence in Mexico). We start talking to her, find out she's from Arizona and is there for a wedding with "a bunch of married girls who never want to go out" so she's been left to her own devices. We talk a few minutes more when she says, with a twinkle in her eye, "I'm gonna make a round." She leaves us to go check out the man-meat there and within 10 minutes she runs back saying "There are boys over here and they want you to come over." A little shocked, Carrie and I follow Summer over to a table of boys who might have just gotten out of college. They were nice enough, a little Summery themselves (our new term for douchebags - Summers Eve) but nice enough. Summer, the minx that she is, sees a dude we spotted earlier who we dubbed the "silver fox." She says to the table "whoever guesses his age closest I'll buy a shot." He was 45 years old and Carrie gave me her winning shot. We knew this girl was balls out but this was further displayed on our final night at the TB. Here, why don't I just show you.

One Tequila...

Two Tequila...

Three Tequila...


Hot. HOT!

And yes, ladies. THAT'S Armando. Ye-ouch. Those ABS.

Ahem... sorry...where was I. We made friends with the owner of the TB as well. His name was Shane and he made sure we were well taken care of. So if you're ever in Playa, in the mood for a hot waiter, an awesome owner, karaoke and some free shots, head to Tequila Barrel. You too might end up like this:

(I'll be honest… I'm a little remorseful those body shot pictures aren't starring yours truly. I'm just gonna put that out there right now.)

TULUM & XEL-HA (pronounced Shil-Ha)

Carrie and I took a day trip on Friday to the beautiful Mayan ruins in Tulum. They were gorgeous and it was all very interesting, but again… not necessarily the stuff of blog posts. The highlights of the trip were that our tour guide was named Gerry Garcia and was maybe the sweetest, cutest man ever. Here's Gerry; grateful he's not dead...

Here's a ruin...

Those Mayans were tiny!

Here's a fucking HUGE LIZARD...

Here's Lance Armstrong's package made out of Tulum sand...

Here's me enjoying nature...

A leaf. Cheese.

After Tulum we were taken to Xel-ha which is a huge eco park. Now let's be honest here people. When you think eco park I doubt the first thing that comes to mind is Disney World but that's pretty much what this was. More tourists who all look the same with their fat little kids. Everywhere. The reason we got so psyched about Xel-ha was, naturally, because they had unlimited food and drinks. Alcoholic drinks! Oh yes my greedy mouth salivates at the thought of anything containing the word "unlimited." Seriously. If someone said "unlimited kicks in the vagina!" I'd probably go. I'm almost sure of it. Xel-ha, overall, was pretty underwhelming. We were super excited to try this rope swing out and after trekking all over the damn place looking for it (with our swimsuits on and our moist thighs making enough friction to start an eco-park fire) it turned out to be a rope hanging from a tree over some disgusting, stagnant water. The kind of water where you can see the bottom but wish you couldn't. And the grotto… boy that sounds cool huh? Same goddamn stagnant water. I had the feeling that if we set foot in that water our limbs would rot off. Just a gut feeling, call me crazy. So, dejected, we walked back to the beginning of the river so we could take a "lazy ride" down it on inner-tubes. Nothing says "lazy ride" like having to paddle your shit down 2 miles of river in a life vest. We had a waterproof camera (the pictures haven't been developed yet) and I'm pretty sure most of them are us paddling for dear life to finally get to the end of that damn river so we could use our remaining time to get shit-faced.

We decided to eat at an "International" restaurant there (buffets are still considered restaurants, right?) and the food was pretty good! Hey, this isn't so bad! Mmmm…let's order margaritas.

And a shot!

Oh man this is the life and it's AAAALL free. I'm starving, aren't you starving? Boy I sure…


A bird just shit in Carrie's coke. Oh man, hilarious! We're indoors (though it's not fully enclosed) and a bird shit in Carrie's coke! We laughed about that for a few seconds and then hesitantly went back to eating. Bird shit is gross but free food is free food, dudes. I was determined to eat my weight in...


No fucking way! Another bird shit on our table! Right in front of Carrie! At this point we're laughing so hard TEARS are streaming down our faces. The families around us paid no attention to the two girls choking on free pasta at the sight of not one but TWO piles of bird shit on their table. I mean, come on. And I know this is going to come to a shock to anyone who knows me (and the little fat kid living inside me) but I lost my appetite. As did Carrie. We left PLATES FULL OF FOOD and UNFINISHED MARGARITAS ON OUR TABLE. Those dirty bitches ruined our meal!

The evil bitches.

But really it's ok because that was maybe the hardest I've laughed in months.

Everyone at Xel-Ha was super excited. Especially the handicapped...

And people who had to pee...

All in all the day was great. We drank some more at the bar and I took a few more pictures and we were back at our hotel by 6pm. Perfecto Majecto! Which leads me to...


It's terrible. I picked up a lot from Carrie and every time I tried to answer in Spanish she was so proud of me. We got hit on by literally every waiter at our hotel and on the beach and every time they came over to us they'd go directly to Carrie and start speaking Spanish. Tell me… what about her face says fluent? It was fine with me because when I did try to communicate with native Spanish speakers I ended up saying stuff like, "no hablo inglés." Which is actually kinda true. (and yes I literally said that once)

I got really good at saying "la cuenta," "no me gusta," and "hasta luego." Yeah, you're impressed.


Let's talk about the sad state alcohol in Mexico is in. To give you a little idea of how watered down the shit is - in one night Carrie and I drank 6 vodka on the rocks and 2 shots of tequila. And no, the night did not last two days. Add to that the fact that we had only a slice of pizza (amaaaazing pizza from Pizza Pazza – GO THERE) for dinner and los números just don't add up-os. If I drank that much in NY I would be dead. No seriously. I know you think I drink a lot but that would kill me.

BASTARDS! And those drinks weren't a few pesos either. That shit was expensive! I think most my money was spent on alcohol there and I didn't get drunk once. Well… once but it was at our hotel bar and that story is coming up.

One of the tequila shots we were given (by our bestie Shane, the owner of TB) was supposed to be done as follows:

1. Exhale all your air from your lungs

2. Take the shot

3. Bite the lime

4. Inhale through your nose

We did those steps exactly and when he said "do you feel it?!" I said yes. Guys, I lied. Just like Moralis in A Chorus Line… I felt nothing. I even dug right down to the bottom of my soul!

My advice for anyone thinking of traveling to Mexico? Buy a bottle of alcohol at the duty free shop at the airport and carry around a flask. Why we didn't do this I'll never know.


As I said before, The Blue Parrot was the bane of my existence in Mexico. This was for a few reasons. 1. The drinks sucked, 2. They had two different types of mysic playing on two ends of the bar so if you sat in the middle (where the bar was) the two conflicting beats will literally drive you insane and 3. It's the same every night and NO ONE GOES ANYWHERE ELSE. They draw their patrons in by having swings surround the bar…

Wee! I'm gonna crack my head open!

…and presenting a fire show at 11pm nightly.


It's all kitchy and fine but damn guys. It's just the same thing every night! Did that stop us from going? No it did not. We swung, we danced, we told people we were named Kate & Allie (no one got it) and I dumped buckets of sand out of my shoes. I think that's really all I have to say about you, Blue Parrot.


Now there was an interesting mix of men there. It wasn't all backward baseball hat wearing Summers Eve dudes. There were Summers Eves from Europe too! For the most part we'd make small-talk with guys and give them our fake names. We told a bevy of men that we owned a talent agency for celebrity impersonators and that we were in Mexico scouting out a Shakira impersonator. (Carrie… you are brillz.) At one point we were talking to a suuuuuper drunk dude from New Jersey. We told him what we did and asked if he had any good impressions for us. He thought for a moment and I said, "why don't you do Matt Damon?" So he said, "Apples. Apples. How do you like these apples" while empting half the contents of his mouth on my face. Say it, don't spray it, bro. Then he did an impression of Al Pacino that we're pretty sure was Jack Nicholson from The Shining. What a lovely fellow with lovely and abundant spit glands! Then there were the 14 year olds who got super drunk and tried to grind with me and Carrie on the dance floor. They were all arms and googley eyes. Bless their tender, underage hearts. I like men but I am no cradle robber, dears.

Now let me just talk about the man my Mexico eyes got googley over. His name was Charlie. Sigh. Charlie is a great name. Charlie was a nice guy who didn't try to force his tongue down my throat and therein laid the mystery. He was there with about 17 guys on a bachelor party weekend so you'd assume they wanna get their groove on right? Not so. They spent most the time talking to each other. Except for Charlie (you should know I'm saying this "Chaaaaarliiiiee – sigh" each time) who flirted with me like it was his damn job! Because my hotel never delivered a message that he called I will probably never see sweet, dimpled Charlie again. But ladies – my heart will go on. And, as Carrie pointed out, we really dropped the ball on getting a picture of him so you'll just have to trust me that he was indeed hot, hot, hot and we would have had beautiful babies. Sigh.


I was robbed in Mexico. Yes right from underneath my nose. Well… Carrie and I had been out all day and decided to head back to the hotel to sit at the bar, get a few ritas and check our email. I had spent a few bucks on little gifts for people including a $60 bracelet for my sister (it was so gorgeous and way more than I could afford) and a t-shirt for Liz. I hung the bag with my purchases in it on the back of my chair and I guess because I got a lil tipsy I left it there when I headed upstairs to pass out in our hotel room. When I woke up I realized what I'd done and went down to get it. It was gone. Sad Face! I asked the bartender if he'd seen it and a housekeeper and she looked around and found the bag. It had been ripped opon and the dirty thief had taken out the bracelet and the shirt (she was kind enough to leave me the shot glasses I purchased for a whopping $3 each). It's all so sad and unfortunate but made funny by one small fact. This was the t-shirt I bought Liz.

Someone stole a t-shirt that says "I Heart To Fart." I hope you are proud of yourself, sir or miss, whoever you are. I hope you are proud and I HOPE YOU REALLY DO HEART TO FART!!


Our trip finally came to sad conclusion and as we headed back to the airport we saw two more great things. One, they have a sign to let you know your status once you arrive:

And two, they make sure you know what this trip was really about:

Shots. Lots and lots of shots.

And now, my lovely readers, that concludes my wonderful and awesome trip to Mexico. Let's do it again real soon, shall we?



1 comment:

Liz said...

At least I know deep down that I, more than anyone else, really really do heart to fart. Thank you for thinking of me, Glennis. Muchas Gracias indeed.