Playing in Playa del Carmen

Day 1: Customs in Mexico: always interesting. If you haven’t been, you’ve probably heard about the stoplight after you get your bag. Press the button. Green means go. Red means they grab your stuff and tear it apart in front of your eyes. GWH and I both manage to get a green light, grab our bags and zoom through the doors.

“Ah, Mexico, you’re my bitch now!” he says under his breath. Yeehaw! We’ve arrived.

I’m unable to focus in the waiting area as GWH secures a ride. There’s an ad for Johnny Rocket’s that reads: “How come you taste so good?” I can’t stop giggling as GWH collects me and we go outside. The next ad we see is for Burger King and exclaims, “Just do eat!” I really can’t stop laughing now. I’m not even drunk yet!

That night we eat a sumptuous meal and then head to the Tequila Barrel. We may be in Mexico, but Sunday Night Football is in full effect. We order margaritas and settle in to watch the game. The Redskins are trying to beat the Eagles, and everyone in Playa can hear me cheering on my team. There are some shots of tequila and one suspicious gay man who’s hitting on GWH and suddenly it’s 1 a.m. GWH and I stumble through the street. He ponders his drunk level.

“Am I going to hurl? I don’t know.”

Ahh, sweet Mexico!

Day 2: It’s time to hit the beach. Awww yeah, it’s breakfast or lunch or whatever the hell meal it is, right on the water. GWH and I decide that guacamole will become a mainstay of our diet for the next five days. We’re sunbathing next to the water—okay, I’m sunbathing and reading; GWH is taking pictures of just about everything that moves. I whip out my Road and Track and GWH tells me just how sexy that is.

“Lady Butterfly told me once that I was every guy’s wet dream,” I smile at him and nod my head to the beat of the latest song playing at the restaurant. It’s “Informer,” by Snow. Wow, that’s one hell of a blast from the past.

“You’re every guy’s nocturnal emission,” GWH agrees, and we toast. This makes us giggle like lunatics. I love drinking in the middle of the day. Seriously. What can I say? I’ll admit it.

Back to the hotel midday to recharge. Hey, I’m not telling you people everything. We venture out later for dinner and drinks. We wander around reading menus until we find a place with veggie fajitas. Score! The restaurant we’ve chosen features the loudest and worst jazz/R&B music we’ve ever heard. And it gets louder and louder until we elect to stop talking.

Well, it’s Monday. Time for Monday Night Football at our new favorite bar, The Tequila Barrel. Mmmm. Margaritas. Damn, I’m full of food.

Vive Mexico!

Day 3: Dude, happy hour starts at noon around here. Yes! But I have issue with these drinks we’re getting on the beach. The margaritas are weak. GWH’s pina coladas seem to be doing him right.

“I need a beer,” I say. We pack up, change and head to what GWH affectionately refers to as “The Swingers” bar. It’s actually a bar with swings instead of bar stools. Oooh this is cool. And perhaps a lawsuit waiting to happen. GWH and I decide that people don’t sue in Mexico, but this idea would never work in the States.

“In the States,” I repeat. “I love that phrase. It makes me sound so well-traveled.”

“Keep it together, baby,” he admonishes me as I lean back in my swing. It’s become the mantra of our trip, as GWH yanks me out of the street away from oncoming cars, keeps me out of manholes, and puts a protective arm around me when I’m oblivious to the catcalls of the locals.

And it’s a special birthday dinner tonight—just for me! I’m just a little bit drunk from the magic of the Swingers bar. For some reason, we don’t have hot water in our room. Or maybe we just can’t figure out hot vs. cold in Spanish. Either way, we both take cold showers and boy, does that kill your buzz. From there, it’s off to Casa del Agua for dinner.

I’m treated to an amazing tortilla soup that positively makes me beam with delight.

“I love this soup!” I declare. “And you know how I feel about soup—I’m a little lukewarm.”

GWH watches me write my notes at the table and applauds my use of the m-dash. A twenty-minute conversation ensues regarding our love for both the m-dash (he affectionately refers to it as the long dash) and the ellipsis. Yeah. We know. Totally dorky. Don’t send letters. But if you do—see if you can work in some of our favorites.

From our seat at dinner, we can look over the balcony and watch the street below. And we can hear some annoying flute music that just won’t stop. It’s clashing with the awful R&B that’s playing on the speakers at the restaurant. Ewww I can’t stand dueling music.

“Lutists. So snobby,” I say to GWH.

“I know. They think they’re from Sherwood Forest or something. And what’s up with the music around here? Is there just one DJ? And he only plays R y B.” He says this last part “in Spanish” and I crack up. More wine!

Good night Mexico!

Day 4: Our new hotel is called Deseo. Remember the second-best hotel in all of South Beach? I feel like maybe we’re back there. Everything is very modern and very cool. GWH frowns at the weird sink.

“I have issue with conceptual appliances.”

Deseo is sort of conceptual all around. There’s even a volume control in the wall, so we can hear the DJ spinning tunes 24/7. (However, Deseo has managed to employ the OTHER DJ in town. The music isn’t nearly as bad here as most of the clubs.) And clearly this is the sex hotel. The free items include: condoms, ear plugs and bananas. Hmmm. Bananas? Ewww. I’m not even going there.

We sit on the patio of our enjoying the view. GWH relaxes in the hammock while I sit in the deck chair. I climb on top of him in the hammock to see if we can balance. He raises his eyebrows and grins.

“This rules. No one can tell us to get a room because we already have one!”

That night at Deseo, we realize that we’re not quite as cool as everyone else. The music is cool, the bartenders are cool, and the people are trying to be pretty. I think it’s time for more Tequila Barrel. I feel at home there. Sort of the like the night of the Pod People, it’s time to ground myself.

We head over and check in with our favorite waiter. I’ve discovered a new drink—it’s vodka and Sprite. For those of you feeling slightly nauseous but unwilling to give up the drink, try a vodka and Sprite. The vodka makes you warm and fuzzy while the Sprite settles your stomach. Yes!

A couple of these concoctions, plus a couple of gigantic margaritas for GWH and we’re down for the count. Ahhh, it’s so hard doing nothing. It really takes a lot out of you. Time for bed. I mean, time for…never mind.

Me gusta Mexico!

-Shakira 01.01.05