We hit the road for the airport about 7:15 AM on the 8th, arrived, parked, pulled our bags out of the car and I began pulling passports out of my purse for everyone to check in with. We checked one bag, got to security, pulled of shoes, belts, keys out of pockets and walked thru the scanner at Spokane International. The Dad was a few people behind me so I informed him through the scanner that I was heading to Starbucks for our drinks.
I ordered our drinks, waited for our drinks and as I tried to manage them, my carry on and my ginormous purse I looked behind me, expecting to see The Dad, Blue Eyes and Boozeanne... but they were not there. I looked towards the two concourses - realizing I hadn't taken note of which one we were in so went to set down the drinks, stand my carry on back up and pull my ticket from my ginormous purse. As I was finally getting to the papers I see the trio round the corner from security.
Weird. What took them so long?
They walk my way, I hand The Dad his drink and we venture up the B concourse.
THANK GOD I WALKED AWAY TO GET COFFEE.
This is why: After I walked away and everyone elses bags were still being scanned, The Dad walked through the scanner and then he heard the TSA agent say "Uhhhh, we're going to need Mary over here. We've got bullets."
Needless to say - he crapped his pants.
So yes. There were a few bullets in Ryan's bag. They've been there since our trip to Demingham at Christmas - where Richard took the boys all out shooting and then bequeathed upon them all bullets. Souveniers. But yes, bullets. In order to go on, Ry was going to have to surrender them or NOT go to Cabo. He chose wisely.
"Uhhhh, we're going to need Mary over here. We've got bullets."
Sweeeeeeet.
We arrived in beautiful, warm, sunny Cabo around 3:30pm - and though it was nearly the same temperature here in The Can that day, there was no ocean breeze, sand beneath peoples toes, or fun frilly umbrella drinks being delivered to the people on their chaise lounges here I'm guessing. <shrug> Or maybe there was some of that... First night dinner is, as usual, a jaunt down the beach to Tabasco where you sit at a table, toes in the sand and happy hour provides you with TWO drinks for the price of one. Perfection.
 |
| Night at Pepe's |
 |
| First night at Alexanders |
 |
| Mango Deck |
 |
| Alexanders - 2nd Time Around. Douche LaRouche MC night. |
 |
| Us with Rudy |
Our room at La Estancia was very nice - though not stocked with the kitchen necessities to cook much more than breakfast so our trip to Costco and Walmart found us spending far less $$ this trip at those locations and far more $$$ dining out. Which didn't suck. With the exception of the sounds coming from our wallets. Ugh. We played "Liars Dice" a few nights, watched some Harry Potter and hit the night clubs a few nights as well.
The Dad and I made our daily mile trek to Starbucks each morning and by the time we arrived back, it was time to head to the beach. The very nice thing about going in the off season (other than it's hotter... oh how I love the heat, what with having that Winslow, Arizona blood running through my veins) was that we didn't have to race to the beach at 8 AM to place towels, books and other "markers" to "reserve" our spots... It was quiet. As quiet as could be. The deals were better, bartering was EASY SHMEEZY and food actually seemed affordable. The killer was the drinks. The drinks that at some places didn't have a hint of rum, or tequila or anything with any sort of PROOF of alcohol in them. I turned to wine and beer after about 4 days in. I should have "turned" earlier, but... oh well.
Early on in the trip Jeff or Ry said something and it went a little like... "Whuu whuu... what are the..." and... because Jeff and I have been on a kick with one of those AT&T commercials - it became the thing, whenever someone in the group stammered - to say "Wha wha... what about the animals? What would they be made of?" And we laughed and laughed and laughed. Just one of those things, I guess. But a very big part of our trip.
Snoozeanne was a trouper wearing the St. Louis Rams masks that Ry bought for him and his pal Dev and she and Ry became quite the barterers as the trip ended. We all got too much sun one day even though we'd slathered ourselves with sunscreen - so that was fun.
It's important to mention that the night we went to El Squid Row - we were seated towards the back before it began to fill up, or as it began to fill up and as is customary they have all of their "activities" going on. As the "coordinator" bopped around and gave away free shots - there came the moment where he said he needed 5 people who wanted a free beer. I raised my hand. I mean... who doesn't want a free beer? So he took pity on the old lady at the back of the establishment and picked me as Free Beer person #3. They didn't hand out coupons or call us up so I figured "Ehhh. Well, at least I was picked."
Then it happened. He pipes up by asking where his 5 Free Beer patrons are and that when he calls our number, we are to go up to him, stand on the chair in front of him and have a beer chugging contest with another employee of the bar.
Shit.
My usual is Angry Orchard hard cider these days and I certainly cannot CHUG one of those. There was no way I could down a Dos Equis in a friggin contest. Eff. I, who know that there's always some sort of loophole, that nothing is free... did NOT see this coming. Cuhhh... rap. So #1 went up. She lost. Then #2 went up. And she lost. So when I was asked if I had any words to the little gal bartender/server I said "Be kind". After all... I could tell she likely enjoys more beer than I do. Crap...
So here's my "showing" in the contest to help win everyone in the bar a "free shot". My mother is oh-so-proud. Well, okay, she's not, but the fella standing below me was pretty jacked up about it! (Click "Aye Carrimba!" link)
Shortly after I "won" my part of the 5 person contest... I decided that I MUST hold this little mexican baby boy... whose grandma had him in the bar... because that's how they roll in Mexico! And then right after that... we stood on chairs and danced. Because that's how WE roll when we're IN Mexico!
We ate well at Alexanders... our first time there (twice) and found a new place off the beaten path at Maria Corona. I looked at plate after plate after plate at all of the vendor shops and those who trudged down the beaches with the heavy things and finally, finally, on our last night found the one that was as close to what I was looking for as I was going to get AND I bartered very well for it AND a matching bowl. We inappropriately filmed an a middle aged asian man with no idea what a "beat" is at CABO WABO and laughed. A lot.
Annnnndddd.... then there was the elevator fun. It is safe to assume that from here until eternity - that if ever Suz, Jeff, Ry and myself are in an elevator with a mirror... Ryan will take his normal new stance:
If we had driven across the state, or flown to California or New York - I'd have fretted about the hounds here at home, even though we trust and love our dog/house sitters - but in Cabo, relaxing and having fun are all that come to mind.
Oh. My. I almost forgot.
So Ryan or Wack had told me somewhere along the way that if someone has "tears" tattooed on their face - that this represents the number of people they've killed or some really uhhhh, cool? thing like that <?> notsomuch... So at our second visit to Alexanders for their amazing caesar salad and the thai shrimp, to be followed by their bananas (or Buhnawnaws as The Dad mistakenly, and wished he could have it back, called them) flambe - a youngish couple sat down next to us. I didn't really notice them at first as I got us involved in a conversation with Elliott and his dad (damn, I didn't take a picture) who are from Scottsdale and had just gotten a caricature drawn of them at their table. After they walked off was when I noted that the young man at the table next to us with the drop dead gorgeous girl - well, he had two teardrops tattooed to his face. This made me pause and look to Ry and confirm what I thought they'd told me once upon a time. At this point, one of the servers at Alexanders asks the teardrop fella where he got his hat. I didn't listen to what Teardrop Guy said as I was now noticing that he had tattoos' all over, BUT... had taken steps to dress so that they were not showing. The ones I saw were on his neck and I could see the tops of his hands and knuckles. It was easy to tell that he is COVERED with them but I found myself respecting that, while the hat looked silly, she was dressed in one of those long dresses, was fashionable, stunning - actually and he HAD taken measures to cover up to eat at Alexanders. I'm not going to apologize for semi-respecting this gang-sorta-looking fella.
Soooo.... what did I do?
I asked him what his hat said. (Douche The Destroyer). Soooo then what?
ME: "Soo... that deoesn't seem like a super flattering thing to have on your hat."
Beautiful Girl: Turns to me and nods emphatically... "No. It's not."
The Dad: <kicking me under the table. Tapping on my arm> (Most of which I never noticed.)
Biker Dude: "Yea. I know."
ME: "Well, so... why?"
The Dad: <more nudging>
Biker Dude: "It's the name of our motorcycle club. Well, Douche LaRouche."
ME: <now seeing Jax Teller in my new, very own, motorcycle club friend> "Huh. Cool."
Biker Dude: "We have a website. Check it out."
The Dad: <quietly> honey... honey... shhh... honey...
As we paid our tab and started to head out, the gal drawing the caricatures that had drawn Elliott and his dad, then Ry & Suz, then The Dad and I... was now drawing Jax & His Girl. I looked on as she drew and she was drawing a little baby bump so I looked at the artist puzzled and she nodded towards me. I looked at her as if to say "Are you sure?" Because you KNOW what happens if you ASK someone when they are due and they are. not. pregnant? Well - I thought it would be in especially BAD FORM to draw my new friends girl, pregnant, if she was NOT in fact. At this point, the gorgeous girl touches my arm and nods and I tell them "Congratulations." All the while, The Dad is tugging at my hand to walk on.
 |
| At our table next to my new friends. |
Big scaredy cat.
We've only got so much time here... I'm going to talk to anyone I want to while I'm here. So there. Even if his motorcycle club is called Douche LaRouche MC.
I'm already ready to go back... and am actually... starting the planning process for a second trip in 2013.
 |
| Add caption |
No comments:
Post a Comment