*The following article is from, Alice, a client and friend of mine (wtdaterry). She is as funny as she is crazy for training with me everyday. You can check out her other work here. She’ll write your pants off, if you pay her!
Well, you aren’t really going by yourself, right? I mean, you’re going with friends. It’s not like you’re going by yourself to be abducted by a drug lord. You just happen to be the only person who isn’t traveling with their husband or boyfriend. Plus, 7 (3 couples plus your little sad self) is a lucky number so you’re just certain that this vacation will go off without a hitch. That would be a welcome piece of luck since every other vacation you’ve ever taken has had a fair amount of drama. Remember?
You missed a flight in New York and had to run across 4 lanes of a busy interstate with your luggage. In Japan your Japanese was crap and you couldn’t buy anything because you weren’t a size XXS. In Ohio there was poop on the wall of your hotel room and you ate a bug in a salad. In Illinois you shoveled horse stalls and inhaled a bucket of sawdust. So…Mexico has got to be better than all of this. What could possibly go wrong?
Day 1: As you are dropped off at your resort in Cabo, Mexico, you leave your purse and sunglasses on the seat of the taxi. After a few frantic phone calls and 3 hours later, the taxi driver brings it back to the hotel but demands you give him a large tip. Fine. At least you got your crap back.
Day 3: Get depressed because you’re single. On vacation. In Mexico. You have this huge room all to yourself and only cheap pillows to cuddle with. Even if you had no morals, there are no attractive single people at this resort to seduce…only young married couples and their kids. Cry for a bit, drink a coke, take a nap, and get over it.
Day 5: While walking the boardwalk after the gorgeous sunset cruise, follow behind your friends. They’re walking in pairs and there isn’t room for you to walk shoulder to shoulder with them. Enjoy the views of the marina and whatever you do, don’t make eye contact with the Mexican kids who swarm tourists. They can smell fear.
You’re almost around the corner when you’re flanked on either side by the wee wolves…the boy, about 5 is on your left, his sister, maybe 7, is on your right. Ignore their chirps to “buy my chicklet.” You don’t want any bracelets or candy. Keep walking. They sense you’re a hard sell, so they start punching you, first the little boy, then his sister. Now you’re walking through the marina getting punched on both sides by giggling Mexican kids and there’s nothing you can do. Finally get rescued by one of your friends. Wish you had a supersoaker watergun. Wish you had yelled at them and frightened them. Wish you had yanked them up and spanked them in public. Then think about how a Mexican prison would look like. Decide it’s best that you didn’t yank them up and spank them. Brats. Hope that the bruising to your arms (and ego) is minimal.
Last Day: Apart from the few crazy events that have happened, it’s been a nice trip and you’re relaxed and ready to head home. Your flight is at 7:30 so you have to check out of the hotel at 5:30. At 5:20 you are downstairs and no one is at the front desk. Ring the bell. Nothing. Debate whether you should just leave. Pace around. Find security. They call for the front desk guy who was sleeping on the job in the back room. Check out and have them call a taxi. When the taxi driver arrives, tell him you need to go to the airport. He doesn’t speak English.
Within 5 minutes you know you’re in trouble. The roads don’t look familiar…in fact, they’re dirt roads and he’s taking you through a village with shacks, dogs, and a few burned-out cars lining the streets. Prepare to die. 15 long minutes later he drops you off at the wrong airport and charges you 45 US dollars. That was all you had left. Find the one guy in the wrong airport who speaks English and explain what has happened and that you have no more money. He calls a taxi driver from the other airport to come get you.
Of course, that driver doesn’t speak English either. Situations explained, the new driver packs your luggage into his trunk and drives to a bank. As you walk up the stairs to the ATM hope he doesn’t drive off with your luggage. As you’re deep in thought, trip up the stairs, stub your toe, break your toenail in half, curse, and hobble the rest of the way to the ATM.
Money is exchanged and you’re now on the way to the right airport. You get there 15 minutes before your flight leaves and you still have to go through customs. The men at the front desk yell at you for being late. Then the customs guy takes his precious time looking over your paperwork. Board your flight with a few minutes to go. Hope your luggage makes it. As you sit in your seat, your toe starts throbbing. You probably broke it. But you made the flight.
As you touchdown in Nashville, vow to never take another vacation by yourself.
