I was getting withdrawal symptoms not updating the blog, plus there have been too many incidents going on, so I need to jot them down. If you’re looking forward to hearing about how unbelievable Spring Break is, with the thousands of hot women, free booze flowing, crazy parties, savage clubs, time of your life and all that, I apologise in advance. If you want to hear about OAP’s, German dudes in thongs (stereotype on!), not so all-inclusive, and married/incestuous women, read on!
This is my second time flying to Mexico, and both times I clapped like an ape when I landed. This first time flying to Cancun, I noticed the pilot was actually in the bathroom when the plane was descending and close to landing. With a dodgy hop, skip and a jump, the plane landed, just about, so I presume there were two pilots but still dodge. I joined in with the over-enthusiastic Yanks who were hooting and hollering that the plane had landed.
This time around, I did a one handed clap to myself as I could get off the plane. I’d say about 5 minutes into the flight, I detected that the guy next to me had to have just s**ted himself. The smell was horrendous. Either he did, or I did without knowing, the smell was that bad. Then again, if it was me, I wouldn’t really be divulging it on the blog. He was an older, gruff looking Mexican, and didn’t seem to care or notice. Even though I was happy with my seat – aisle on the emergency row, awful pains in the legs, any chance? -I had to move. So I scoured the plane for an available seat, its full to the brim, happy days. In the end I had to go down the back of the plane for the flight and hang around by the toilets. The stewardess gave me her seat for parts, parts I spent sitting in the toilet (funnily enough I wrote my first stand-up pieces when in the toilet), but mainly I was just hanging around the back of the plane. Small plane too so I could more or less hear what person did what in the toilet, it was great. The smell was better down there at least. It was a mighty start to my priest get-away!
My first morning at breakfast was when I kind of thought I picked the wrong place to stay. Firstly, the hotel was split in two, grand and club. Grand was nicer, more restaurants, bars etc, the better place to stay. Club was cheaper, it’ll be grand, club on! So I’m eating some dodgy buffet food in the club section, waiting for the hoards of college girls to trundle in for breakfast, some dude to give me a beer bong and the music to blare up, my Spring Break would be under way. Just like they do on MTV. And here they come, hoards and hoards of old people, mixed with people wearing Muubuu’s, Homer Simpson fat camp style. The job. Sprung Broke all the way. Felt more like Radio 1. There were a splattering of hot women at breakfast, but mostly couples, or are they brother and sister, I’ll come back to that.
I moseyed way up to the pool after breakfast, at least it was roasting, the chicks will all be up here, come on the beer bong! The pool was cool enough, bar in the middle, younger crowd up there, might not be too bad. It was then when I found out that all-inclusive does not include water. Or the majority of drinks one would probably drink. One beer, one watery vodka, one dodgy mixer (there were more but that was my menu). The pool was full to the brim with apes as well. They were either Tom Cruise wannabes, or Bon Jovi lovers. The Tom Cruise dudes were all small, pumped up, finger pointing, gun motioning, high fiving, cringe worthy, rooting tooting apes, with none of his good movie lines. The Bon Jovi dudes were bandana’d up to the max, with their florescent, Speedo, too-tight-for-their-heads sunglasses. And the women, who weren’t part of couples-ville, were… sound looking. The music was pumping, but sweet lord, it was horrific. Cher’s classic, Do You Believe In Life After Love, must have been on loop every third song. I liked it the first 7 times but after that I had to have a word with the DJ, the world renowned Senor Miguel, all night long, requests are welcome, as long as its Cher or Bon Jovi!
After a fair few watery vodkas at that pool, I decided I should really sneak into the grand section and see what the fuss was. So I cleverly walked across a path, and I was in, tough enough. The pool was better in fairness, plus it had a better selection of watery spirits to choose from, so I hung around a while. Chilling with all the grandparents there. Having small talk about the books we were reading. Saying how glad we were that we had all brought cardigans, as it does get quite chilly here at night.
One granddad ruined all the small talk. His wife was telling another set of grandparents, and me, of how great it was that they brought their young granddaughter, she can interpret for them, she’s only 6 but speaks Spanish so well. The other granny must have said “Isn’t that awesome, really awesome, good for her, and for you, that is really awesome” about 9 times. She was interrupted, however, by the girl’s granddad, who had said nothing at all up to this point, until he pops out with “I wish the little c**t would shut up if you ask me”. Ha, it was brilliant, I was the only one laughing though. Cue awkward silence, which was a lot of fun, followed by the fighting about calling her that name in front of people, followed by the granddad calling his wife the same name too.
That fun was then followed by my brief meeting with Ze Germans. So, sitting at the bar in the swimming pool, grandparents fighting to my right, I decide to swivel to my left. Two big fat German dudes, in red thongs, both looking like Gary Glitter with their beards and caps, and who were holding hands I should add, a post wouldn’t be complete without some gay paragraph, at least I can talk to them about Harvey Milk. I kind of overhear them talking in German and looking at me. It takes a minute for my German ear to tune in that they’re saying something about my hair, mocking it I think. Little did the know about my previous life as a translator! So, I say nothing, let them mock on, make sure, I can get that they think I need a haircut, something like that. So I finish my drink, then in German, ask them where they bought their thongs, and inform them that hair is actually a wig, don’t tell anyone. Brutal comebacks I know, but it was the best I could do at the time in German. I finished off with a “Ja, VOLL!” alright which Germans don’t like, I showed them to mock me to my face in a foreign language!
I’ll have to blog on tomorrow about the brother and sister/boyfriend and girlfriend tomorrow. I’m late enough as it is. The game of bridge starts over in Sue and Jim’s room in 5 minutes! Sprung Broke on!!!
Song of the day is not cheesy DJ Senor Miguel’s choice but this savage one… Courtship Dating by Crystal Castles