The Mexican Adventures of Shakira and GWH

Day 1: Arrival in Playa del Carmen

So we're on our way from Dallas to Cancun when we find our flight has been delayed by 17 minutes. It turns out the reason is “crew rest.” That's it? Peeps, take a half hour if you need it. Gawd. You're only flying a plane!

Once we arrive in Mexico, we wait in line for some other people who actually are heading to Playa del Carmen. It takes a while to fill a bus. Our theory is that most people head directly to an all-inclusive resort, and because we don't roll that way, GWH and I feel pretty superior. So when this lady and her daughter get on the bus, he tells them how glad he is they showed up, and says something about all-inclusives and how silly they are.

I wonder if she was offended (it turns out she and her daughter are headed to an all-inclusive after all) but she probably couldn't be more offended than we are when she tells us about her hometown.

“I'm from the Mushroom Capital of the World,” she tells GWH, “and we have Mexicans up there. Little brown men everywhere. They're the only ones who will do that kind of work.”

I haven't turned around to acknowledge her yet, and I definitely won't now. I can see GWH looking at me out of the corner of my eye. I can tell he's praying I don't turn around and tell her off. Luckily, the daughter recognizes how painful her mother is, and hands her the iPod.

“Here, Mom, listen to this.”

We have almost arrived at their resort when Mushroom Lady notices the sign and starts screaming at the driver to pull over. “There it is!” she yells. “It's a good thing I was paying attention!”

What a bitch. GWH and I hope she becomes shark food.

We make it to our hotel without further incident, dump our stuff and head directly for tacos and margaritas. We see a T-shirt with an appropriate saying for the rest of the trip: Rule #1: No Rules.

Later that night, we wind up at another old favorite: The Tequila Barrel. It is most awesome. It is where I get really drunk. It is also where this obnoxious group of guys sitting behind us are making out with some ladies—er, girls?—who suddenly disappear, and the dudes attempt to find some new ladies. Their method: whistling at girls in the street. GWH and I shoot our second tequila and I laugh. This method is so not working out.

GWH meets a guy who lives in the North Pole and this fascinates him to no end. In the meantime, this really weird parade goes by. I know I'm freakin' wasted, but…what is that? Is it a man or a bird? Some of this Mayan stuff is kind of out there. Oh, wait, are those people dressed as pilgrims with the U.S. flag?

Day 2: “Hey you!” Playa del Carmen

The guys who hang out in front of their stores in the Avenida are pretty awesome. They'll stand there all day, every day, making up lines to attract the tourists. We delight in listening:

“What a good-looking couple! You must be American…or Canadian.”

“Hey Texas !” This is what they call anyone with a Longhorns cap on.

“Hey, honeymooners!” This is an especially popular one, so finally I turn to one of the guys and say, “Hey, if we're honeymooners, where is my ring?” and hold up my left hand, wagging my fingers.

“Oh, you're just practicing!” they say, and GWH and I crack up.

And then there's the best one:

“Honeymooners? You look happy and tired.” What? Tired of having sex? Tired of being married already? We think perhaps something got lost in translation.

But then I'm pretty sure the highlight is my New York City shorts. They are red terrycloth and they say “ New York City ” on the butt, and two days later one of the guys on the street asks GWH where his New York City girlfriend is. GWH sighs. “I think you've made an impression.”

Day 3: Party in the Room: Playa del Carmen

So it's raining today. There's no more palapa on our porch outside, owing to Hurricane Wilma or Rita or one of those nasty bitches, so we resort to tequila shots and beer accompanied by some iPod tunes.

This is way more fun than it sounds. There's also a video of me performing Bon Jovi, and GWH has threatened to post it on YouTube.

I hope he's kidding about that.

And, um, doesn't it suck when your hangover begins before you're done drinking?

Day 4: Oooh, Fire Dance: Playa del Carmen

Today I put on my new Mexican Princess outfit. I think I will probably never find a place to wear this again, but I LOVE THIS OUTFIT, so I will wear it and GWH humors me all night, calling me his Mexican Princess. And then we take on another new adventure: watching the fire dancers at The Blue Parrot.

At The Blue Parrot, it's 2 for 1 happy hour. Tequila shots ensue.

And when the fire dancers show up, I think I say this statement about seventy times: “This is the coolest thing I have ever seen.”

It's also pretty scary when you read in the guidebook (as I did) that the entire place burned down just ten months ago due to a flame from a fire dancer's pole. Whooops.

Day 5: Parasailing, Subway sandwiches, Football: Playa del Carmen

Today is the day we defy gravity in a tandem parasailing adventure. While the view certainly is beautiful, it is also terrifying and GWH laughs at me because I won't let go of the harness.

Later, we're eating lunch or dinner or whatever—maybe it's Fourth Meal?—and we see some guys preparing for the opening of the new Subway. Because if you need anything in Playa, it's a delicious Subway sandwich. The owner has hired two Subway Babes. They are dressed in matching slinky black dresses, and the owner is actually STAPLING what appear to be Subway bumper stickers on the white sashes they are wearing. I think he's hoping to cop a quick feel in the process. It's still unclear as to what the Subway Babes are doing, exactly. Are they handing out coupons? The damn restaurant isn't even open yet. Are they just supposed to stand there? Is it a beauty contest? Will Jared judge the contest and see which Babe is lower in fat? We head to our hotel room to shower, and hope to find the answer later when we pass by again.

On our way to the sports bar later to watch GWH's beloved Cowboys, we find the Subway Babes are still just sitting there. Booooring.

The sports bar is a Mexican version of, well, a sports bar. This translates to really crappy chicken wings and ranch dressing that tastes more like mayonnaise. It's…interesting. We watch the Cowboys game and our waiter cheers enthusiastically for Dallas . He really loves GWH, and just wants him to be happy.

“Nice toss, Romo. He's threadin' the needle tonight,” GWH says to me.

Apparently the ladies restroom in this bar is also in some twilight universe. I walk in to find a silver-haired tattooed man washing his hands. I shrug to myself; I HAVE consumed some Bloody Marys and then Electric Lemonades. Then he looks up, sees me and says, “Am I in the wrong place?”

I shrug again. “One of us is.”

Day 6: “Rollin' in my 5.0:” Isla de Mujeres

GWH and I take on the Mexican bus system! This is not nearly as adventurous or crazy as it sounds. We arrive at the ferry without incident. Behind us, this guy is commenting that no one gets skin cancer on their legs. But he's pretty sure one can have cancer of the eye. I'm pretty sure he's wrong about the legs.

Then he says, “Sure would be nice to have some sunglasses.” Um, dude, how did you end up in MEXICO without them?

GWH is wild to rent a golf cart and “explore” the island. I am wild to experience the awesome beach just 26 steps from our room. He gets to rollin' and I get to sunnin'.

Later, he takes me in his souped-up golf cart to dinner. We find a quaint Italian restaurant and open up a bottle of wine. When some mariachis wander in, the guy behind us requests “Hotel California.” GWH and I nearly spit out our wine as the mariachis just shake their heads in confusion. GWH requests “ Volver ” and then tells me that this should be our song.

“Of course we sort of need to break up and get back together again to make it really work,” he muses.

“Let's try finding another song.”

GWH and I roll to the liquor store to find some more wine. There may or may not be an incident with a parked VW Bug. I'm not really at liberty to say. Regardless, we return to our hotel and get an opener and an ice bucket for the wine. GWH puts his key card in the door and nothing happens. We look up. Wrong room. We run away giggling.

Day 7: It's My Birthday!: Garrafon Park : Isla Mujeres

Garrafon Park is a dream come true. GWH gets to snorkel and I get to sun myself and read all day long. Plus, it's my birthday and here I am in paradise. Dude. Best. Birthday. Ever.

-Shakira 01.03.07