Well, we made it back from Mexico safe and sound.  We ducked out last Wednesday morning, under cover of darkness, and boarded a plane for Playa Del Carmen.  We had some first class tickets in our hands, thanks to our Albuquerque traveling buddies Jill and David.  I’ll say one thing, it’s a darn site closer than Hawaii: we were sitting on the beach soaking rays by 2:30 that afternoon.  SWEET!!

To sum up the trip, let me just say “All Inclusive.”  That pretty much wraps it up.  We stayed at the Gran Porto Real, and I’ll give the place an A+ under the “relaxation” category.  My goal for the trip was to move no more than 300 yards a day under my own power, and I met or exceeded that goal each and every day.  It was a rather stunning display of sloth even for myself.  I did start to feel a bit bad about the situation after the first two days.  Nobody should eat and drink that much without countering it by doing some type of physical activity.  It just ain’t natural.  I managed to fight through the emotional rollercoaster and stick it out ’till the end though.  Our daily agenda went something (exactly, actually) like this:

• 6:00 AM – Stumble outside and stake our claim to four premium lounge chairs, by using the international symbol of the beach towel draped over the back.  Go back to bed.  This was by far the closest we came to work the entire trip, taking sometimes as long as 10 minutes to accomplish, and definitely carried the most responsibility.  We split these duties with David and Jill, every other day.


• 7:30 AM – Get back out of bed, pick up clothes off floor, put them on, and go to breakfast.  Typical breakfast consisted of a large omelet, several sausage links, assorted fruit, chunks of cheese, scrambled eggs with ham, potatoes, french toast, and a few pieces of the “meat du jour,” all covered liberally with pico de gallo and washed down with 4 cups of coffee.  You may think I’m exaggerating… I’m not.


• 9:00 AM – Switch out shorts for swim suits, shuffle out to the aforementioned lounge chairs and read the newspaper.


• 10:00 AM – Everisto, our personal bartender, shows up for work and brings us a round.  We grossly overtip him, ensuring prompt returns, and lay back in our chairs.


• 1:00 PM – Lunch time gluttony, consisting of nachos, guacamole burgers, french fries swimming in copious amount of chili and cheese sauce, ceviche, and assorted other artery-cloggers, all buried under a few cups of the same awesome pico de gallo.


• 4:00 PM – Nap time.


• 6:00 PM – Dinner.  Although the content varied a little more than the other meals, the portions were quite similar.


• 8:00 PM – Here we mixed it up a LITTLE bit, but not a whole lot… Just kind of went with the flow.  Check out the nightly show, sit out by the pool and chit-chat, watch a red-neck wedding, that kind of stuff.

Think you could hold that pace?  Not as easy as it sounds, bub.  Not for lounge-rookies, I’ll tell you that.  Any oddities on the trip, you ask?  Well… All the topless chicks kind of took me by surprise.  Not an all-together unpleasant surprise, mind you, but it kind of threw me off my game.  There was always that underlying feeling that something just… Wasn’t right.  A bit unnerving.  Plus, I think it distracted Everisto, and that’s just not good for anybody.  We also went and saw a Michael Jackson impersonater one night.  THAT was something to see.  There is a very good possibility that I may live out the rest of my life regretting not getting a picture with ol’ Michael.  Would’ve been a fine keep-sake.  Oh, oh, and I can’t forget the Red-Neck wedding, alluded to above.  The wedding party wasn’t all that remarkable actually; relatively normal people with horrible drawls.  But then there was Will, and he was quite a case.  Will (pronounced “Whee-Ull”) sat out on the beach every day in a cowboy shirt, properly-formed ballcap, Wranglers, and well-worn boots.  Honestly, watching and listening to Will provided me with more diversion than the topless chicks.  (That sounds like something out a “you know you’re getting old when…” skit, but it’s true.)  He had many memorable lines, few of which can be repeated.  One of my favorites was when he wandered by, soaked from head to toe, (and still in the clothes described above) and stated “%$&%#*-*$%#@, that was a bad decision.”  Other than that, the synopsis above pretty well covers things, with the exception of a few items filed under “what goes on south of the border, stays south of the border.”  Well, there are several little “catch phrases” we picked up on, (besides Will’s,) but they just wouldn’t work on here.  You have to actually hear them, and for that matter you have to hear them the FIRST time to get the full effect.  So never mind on those.