Danger is the word of the day week.

As I reflect back on the last week in Mexico, there seems to be a running theme of putting ourselves into situations that are not recommended, or better, flat out discouraged by most of the tourist guides. But we are here to experience authenticity. Right ladies? Crickets… OK, maybe in some of these situations not all of us were completely on board with the plan of attack, but we all ended up having some damn good fun. And we’re all alive. So its all good. I’ll do my best to catch you up on the past few days, but some hilarity might have been lost to the tequila Gods…

After taking the abandoned road to nowhere and running with Marc Anthony we wandered out and about in search of food and beer and what not. Apparently we were lucky enough to be here for the 6th anniversary of the Grand Bazaar… which was, well, bazaar. It was really just a humungous garage sale with people selling old shit. Even underwear. That’s just wrong. It was a zoo. We ran.

The Bazaar Bazaar

We worked our way to the Mega to stockpile groceries, in search of some authentic food along the way. Found it here, along with house shots of tequila that made our eyes burn.

Burning house tequila shots

Danger Alert: After we rolled around Mega for what felt like hours, the four of us piled into a cab to ship us and our stockpile back to the casa. I chatted up, in poor Spanish, the taxi driver, a strapping young 22 year old mexican boy named Uriihas, and asked why we were unable to buy beer. Apparently you cannot buy beer anywhere after 5pm on Sunday. This was a big problem. I somewhat jokingly asked him if we could buy some on the black market and next thing you know, he’s on the phone with someone talking way too fast for us to know what he was saying. When he passed our turn home I motioned that he needed to turn around and he replied “Beer Aqui!” We traveled a ways to what I can only describe as the ghetto. We rolled along getting plenty of stares from locals and shirtless children wondering why these four white girls had left the 3 mile radius around the tourist district. Urihas pulled up to an auto mechanic/black market beer distributor and instructed us to stay in the car, locking the doors behind him. Sure enough, after we sweated it out in the cab for a bit, he brought us two 6 packs, charged us about $1.50 a beer, took us home, gave me a card in case I wanted to return the favor and we arrived safe with our cervesa. No harm done!

Then the rain came. Pouring down rain. It was kind of fun to sit on the balcony, drink our beer and watch it come down in our jungle/pool area. Then the power went out. That was kind of fun too. Until we realized that meant our door code lock would no longer work and we freaked ourselves out. After a few more beers, we got past the fear.

Danger Alert: We hiked up to the roof of our building carrying aluminum beer cans to check out the view from the top in the middle of a raging thunder/lightening storm. The view was spectacular. Even if we were tempting a fate of three fried dead women only found on the roof of a Mexican condo when someone followed the stench.

Next, we were going stir crazy. Our friend squirrel was already fading. Deana said “if Squirrel doesn’t get a second wind, I’ll blow a second wind into her ass.” Mouth to Ass resuscitation became the term of the week.

So we said screw this rain. Let’s find the nearest bar that is open. We ran down the street, 3 drenched rats, and came upon Kool Fish, where we met Alturo. We essentially drank the bar out of tequila. No seriously, my last shot had a mixture of the last drop in three different tequila bottles. Might explain the next day’s near death experience. He sent us home with three buckets of Micheladas.

Three drowned rats and Alturo

To-Go buckets of Micheladas

Danger Alert: Mexican Influenza Monday. I will breeze past this day because it was spent doing a few conference calls for work in the morning and then leaving my bed only to projectile vomit every 30-45 minutes. Thank God it was only a 24 hour bout of flu and it wasn’t the “revenge.”

I was ready to roll the following day and we worked our way over to the Cozumel ferry to find some trouble.

Back in Action!

Danger Alert: Scattered Thunderstorms were expected, but we rented scooters anyway (as if those weren’t dangerous enough). Deana had never driven one and fell off within 5 blocks of leaving. Really, she was going so slow that she just toppled over leaving not a scratch on herself. In fact, all the people in the street were whistling and clapping. One guy was kind enough to walk out into the busy intersection to pull the scooter off of her. Once we knew she was AOK it was really quite funny. I wish I had photo documentation, but I only have the image in my head… and its glorious. Then we rode those damn scooters, in the rain, down the highway with crazy Mexican cab and truck drivers flying by. We R Smart.

We were in search of some Bob Marley bar but it was really really far. We stopped for one margarita at a cute looking bar on the beach. The margarita tasted like sour mix and bug spray. I was tempted to rub it on my legs because I was getting eaten alive by the mosquitos.

Bug Spray Margarita

Back on the scooters in search of Bob Marley. We eventually made it there, after 25 miles of riding scoots through the jungle asking ourselves where the hell we were.

Bob Marley Bar

It was a bar. On a beach. Had lots of old T-shirts and bras and what not hanging from every surface. We had one beer and headed on back. We like danger, but none of us were up for drinking and driving scooters in the rain.

We returned our scooters. Got into an altercation with the owners because they claimed Deana’s scooter had damage, even though they never looked it over with us before we left. I assure you, the damage was not in a spot that could have happened during her little spill. There was arguing and annoyance and ultimately Deana was out another $100. At that point we needed to lift her spirits, so naturally we stopped for beers and tequila and made friends with two freaking crazy ladies from Nashville. They seemed kind of smart and fun, but one of them kept saying “stoled” instead of “stolen” and that just makes you sound stupid. They did however, walk Deana through all the steps she needs to take to get her credit card company to sue the scooter company and get her $100 back.

We freaked out when we found out there was no 7 or 8pm ferry back to Playa. We had missed the 6pm. We were determined to get back though. We sweet talked the man at the other ferry company into giving us four tickets to his 7pm ferry. Before we got on the boat, a Mexican guy ran up to Deana and me and asked if he could take his picture with us. Then like 15 different people were snapping away and laughing and clapping. We were some sort of attraction, but I don’t know if they thought we were famous or just liked the fact that we were white girls in drenched sundresses.

Danger Alert: As we waited to board the ferry, an ugly storm rolled in… so what did we do? No, of course we did not sit inside the ferry. We went to the upper outside back deck that only had a measly roof overhead and was open on all sides. It was a terenchal downpour with high potential for one of us either slipping down the stairs or right over the side.  We sat next to four dirty old men from a small town in Mexico, who had brought on a bottle brandy and passed the cup around the whole trip while they chanted “chi chis! chi chis!” hoping we would give them a first hand view of our tan lines. Alas, we are not those kind of girls. One of the men actually showed us his boob though. It was gross. The brandy was nice though.

Chi Chis Chi Chis!

In the eye of the storm

We walked/swam down a flooded 5th street then searched for a cab home. Well you don’t have to search, but all the cab drivers were telling us 70 pesos, which I knew to be high for where we were going. We were determined not to be taken again like the scooter guy and so many trinkets before, so we kept running through the rain to find one that would take us for 50 pesos. Yes, we spent 20 more minutes in cold pouring rain, soaked to the bone, to save $1.60. It was the principle of the matter.

Today is the last day of our trip. It has been quite a wild ride, but I am ready to get home to my bed, my DVR, TexMex and pizza. But not without one more trip to The Cave, The Dirty and that random bar we call “death stairs” because you have to climb some narrow looking, metal un-sturdy stairway to get to the alcohol (danger alert).

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