Mexico hates me.

My best just wrote a status about Mexico hating her for changing her flight to one day later than it should of been. This brought back a flood of inappropriate memories from when I went to Mexico in 2006 with Taylor David (www.coherentlychaotic.com)

I am a vacation. drama. queen.

We were in Puerto Vallarta for one reason and that was to make bad decisions and gain some weight. Okay, that's two reasons. But we approached both with confidence.

We were staying in Nuevo Vallarta, which is about 15 minutes from Puerto Vallarta, in an all inclusive 5 star hotel for 5 days. It cost about 450 dollars per person, so that goes to show you how far out of town it was. We were booooooorrrreeeeed. One can only drink so much tequila, play so much marco polo, and talk so much in fake accents. The only attractive men there who were over the age of 9 and maybe willing to pay attention to us were the employees of the hotel. They were known as the "animation staff". They did everything from leading a game of volleyball to disinfecting the giant dolphin pool when an eight year old poo'd in it. They always carried around microphones and spoke everything in Spanish and English. "Esta chica americana poco solo caca en la piscina this American girl she poo in the pool yes". Taylor found a boy who treated her like Paris Hilton and he said he wanted to take us into Puerto Vallarta and show us a good time at the club, "Zoo". I was a little apprehensive. Mostly because I wasn't the one getting doted on and I prefer activities in which I'm the center of attention. I told Taylor we would go with him once he got off work, and we had some bebidas while we waited. When he told us he was ready, he said to meet him in the back of the parking lot because he wasn't allowed to hang out with hotel guests. My response, in Spanish, was. "It is not pleasing to me to be in a car of you. I am needy a taxi to go to the Zoo. You like to Natalee Hollaway me and my friend that is a girl. I have eyes." ("son" and "eye" is the difference between "ijo" and "ojo")

Him and Taylor laughed and giggled at my Americanistic ridiculousness and we walked to the back of the dark parking lot. in Mexico. at midnight. Where a cab driver was waiting with his door open. He was an off-duty cab driver, had two gold earrings, and didn't speak any English. I wasn't feeling exactly warm and safe and Roberto kept assuring me, telling me he was his "amigo" and "stop watching so much dateline". I got into that cab, knowing my mother was somewhere weeping over raising me so poorly.

We got to the club uneventfully. If you consider I was slapping the hands of our best friend the cab driver for 75% of the trip saying "You are not good. No put you hand on my leg. You are not liked by me. I have eye"

Then we got into Zoo and had fun. A lot of fun. A ridiculous amount of fun. Taylor told everyone it was her birthday so she got a free drink with a giant banana sticking out of it and some pretty latina girl kept pouring alcohol into my mouth and shaking my face. I was more than okay with it. I wanted some street tacos. Vamonos mi amiga y nuevo novia de mi amiga y su amigo meido! Vas a las tacos!

Scary yellow cab drivers are opening the door for us and practically cattle-roping us into their cabs. One particular one who, in my haze of drinks, seemed to have scars all over his face, pointy teeth, and dark, painted-on mean eyebrows. Like this.

They don't realize, we have an inside-man. My new best friend, who I ignored the whole time we were in the club, drove his own white cab. It was free, and ya'll betta back off!

We get in the white cab and start driving to get a taco(s). I'm singing and dancing and sweaty and silly when I start noticing there are lights coming on us pretty quick. Flashing red and blue lights. Federali. I immediately start bawling, knowing I am about to be sold into slavery and I don't know where my shoes are. I start SCREAMING uncontrollably at the cab driver. "I DO NOT LIKE YOU I HAVE DRUNKNESS I NICE I DONT LIKE YOU. FEDERALI! FEDERALI! AHHHHHHHHH!"

Roberto screams from the backseat  "Shut up, it's just the local police. They're like security guards. Calm the hell down and take your purse off your head. And give us some money to pay them off. You guys are rich, you're Americans on vacation."

"I HAVE NO MONEY I HAVE NO MONEY I DON'T LIKE THEM TO TAKE ME MY MOTHER AND FATHER AND SON AND NIECES AND COUSINS LIKE ME I AM NICE GOOD WORK I WANT WATER AHHHHHHHH!" (it should be noted I was excellent at the chapter entitled "family members" in freshmen spanish)

The cab driver takes off his earrings and throw them at me. I start heaving uncontrollable sobs because now I realize he's a thieving criminal and he is trying to pin the evidence on me. I throw the earrings back at him with a vengeance, screaming

"I NO TAKE SILVER THAT IS NOT OF ME I DO NOT LIKE YOU BAD MEXICAN"

He tells me some cops will bribe you and take it, but I am just uncontrollable and too horrible at the Spanish language to listen to a word he's saying. The cops come over and politely inform us, in English, that it is illegal to take a white cab to Nuevo Vallarta, it is considered stealing tourism from Puerto Vallarta and he will have to take us back to the Club and we will have to go home in a yellow cab. I gave the police officer a hug and 10 pesos and an apology for calling him crooked and threatening to call Border Patrol. We rode back to the club where pointy-teethed man was waiting with his cab door open.

He had clearly been the one to call the police because he wanted us for himself. I immediately started bawling and screaming about my eyes and my good working but Taylor took over and looked the man straight in the eyes and said "There is no way in HELL I am getting in your cab. You can go drive your cab into the ocean or find some ugly girls. We will stay on the street all night. We are NOT getting into your cab". By this point, if scary man was willing to take me to a taco, I might be okay with it. Taylor took control and got the club owner to call us a yellow taxi he trusted not to to gut us and we rode home, me sobbing quietly in the front seat, both bra straps hanging down to my elbows, both shoes missing. I vowed never to come back to Mexico and never to leave the hotel again.




Yep, Taylor took a picture.


That's the thing about Mexico, you wake up at 1pm the next day, eat some guacamole and you find yourself asking, "Can the thieving criminal in the free white cab pick us up again tonight?"