This morning Jeff, Shannon, Laura and I headed out to Yalapa, a secluded beach town about an hour water taxi ride away from the main Puerto Vallarta beach. Jeff decided we should sit in the front of the boat, which we did. Little did we know that meant we were going to feel the ride. Although the water was pretty smooth, Jeff and Shannon were getting banged around by the boat. When we finally got to Yalapa, Jeff and Shannon jumped off the boat and landed in the nearest cantina on the beach, literally ten feet from where the boat dropped them off. Laura wanted to see the highly touted waterfall, so I joined her. The water taxi took a short jaunt to the Yalapa pier where we disembarked. We were insatntly approached by Jorje who promised to be our personal tour guide. And when Laura was looking for 5 pesos to use a local restroom, Jorje was right there with 5 pesos for Laura. While I was waiting for Laura, Jorje asked me if I smoke. This guy was working us bigtime, and had all the connections in place.
Jorje walked us through town to the waterfall, a pretty unspecdtacular sight considering that it is now dry season in Mexico and there was little more than a trickle coming through. We took a quick photo and headed back to the beach to find Jeff and Shannon. Jorje alluded to the fact that we should pay him $10, we slipped him a $5. Jorje didn't bother us again.
Shannon made a first night dinner reservation at Daquiry Dick's, a beachside restaurant. Colin and I were ordering margaritas when the waiter talked us into ordering a pitcher, which we did. They were tasting good and strong, and soon were ordered another pitcher. Then, BAM! The afternoon base of Coronas plus the tequila kicked my ass. I guess the nightdcap of Mexican cofee didn't help either. Several hours later I awoke on my bed fully clothed. How did I get there? Magic?
I woke up just a few minutes before my alarm was supposed to sound. But this morning it was still dark. Afterall, I couldn't sleep as late as I wanted because I had to be somewhere -- the airport -- and it was all business. You see, today we departed to Puerto Vallarta to celebrate Jeff's 40th birthday, which is tomorrow.
I drove over to Jeff's & Shannon's house and caught their limo to the airport. Lydia and Colin drove to the airport, and Angela and Tom did as well. Laura met us on the plane after flying up from LA. Don't ask.
Jeff and Shannon were on Alaska Airlines, but the rest of us were on Ted, "part of UniTED." Get it? Maybe it's just the Ted staff who like to remind you of their clever branding pun. Anyway, after checking in, we searched for the bar. But all of the airport bars were closed in the Ted wing. Jeff happily called to inform us that he was on his second Bloody Mary. Finally, on the plane, us low-life Ted flyers could calm our nerves...
So I went out drinking last night with my Irish friend, Scott, in honor of the big holiday. We met up at around 10 p.m. We were carrying on what seemed to be a mellow pace, but my juices were getting stewed.
As the night wound down, it became apparent I wouldn't make the last train home. Scott offered to let me sleep on his couch, which I guess I did for a while. Then I woke up and needed to take a leak. All I could see through the haze was a wax man sleeping in a large bed on a pedistal in the middle of the room. I look again. Yes, it's a wax man on a throwne of a bed. I got out of the building immediately and hailed the first thing resembling a cab. After the Mexican dropped me off at home from his low-rider, I crashed hard. My BAC this morning? .091 @ 10:19 a.m.
Okay, I realize there is a rather large hole in my blog. It will be filled, eventually. Rest assured, I didn't die during my 5-state tour of the southwest. But I did get pulled over by the pigs three times, had my skis stolen and and fell in love.
