Details taken from Hero's notes, edgyness/asshattery added by me :)
A few weeks back the wife and me took a vacation to Cancun Mexico. We got a
deal on a room at the Westin, so we decided why not. The flight was from Newark
to Cancun, non stop. Flying sucks these days, I friggin hate going through TSA
check points. Something about being treated like a criminal like that makes
me want to choke the fuck out of someone. So the beginning of a trip at the airport
is super stress time for me. This time check-in actually went pretty good amazingly.
Newark airport is actually the 5th level of hell, so actually checking in the bags
in a reasonable amount of time was a miracle. So we get to the TSA checkpoint
joy, joy!,
Quick aside..
When they first started the TSA bullshit, I flew somewhere and a security guy
wanted me to unbuckle my belt, and like frisked me around the waist. I lost my
cool, and asked the guy if he was happy how his life turned out, that the apex of
his accomplishments was that he had a job sticking his hand in other men's pants.
Or something to that affect, along with a "go f urself", Yeah about got arrested
that day...
aside over...
Where was I... Oh yes, the God foresaken TSA check point. Yay me!, I made it
through without having a cavity search. So I am sitting on one of the benches
outside the checkpoint trying to put my belt and shoes back on (not unlike some
chick waking up from a date rape and gathering her belongings before taking the
walk of shame back to her dorm)..
All of the sudden, so fucking Fat ugly woman with a red shirt that was at least 2
sizes too small, starts getting in my face gesticulating wildly, something about
"Her husband needs room!". Keep in mind this bench is huge, and I am the only
one on it. I sit there dumbfounded, about to cause a scene, then I see
my angelic wife giving me signal to just let it go. Then I get up and try to
gather my shit and I see this woman's husband. He is this short also fat guy
with a similar red golf shit as his wife, and some shorts with the waist band way
above his belly button. And his belly was formidable, it was one hell of a
beer belly (which doesnt make one a bad person), still it was huge. This guy
looked out of it he looked vaguely latino, but I could not tell where
the f he was from. His wife seemed to be hovering around him,
doing everything for him, I thought he must be retarded or something.
Any way, I get up and go the gate, thinking, "Damn, I am glad I am not going
where that crew was going".
Cut to the plane.
We get on board, we are like the first isle behind 1st class, 3 seats on either side
of the aisle. Our assigned seats are the window, and the middle seat on the port
side of the aircraft. We walk hopefully towards our seats, Then karma steps in
and I am forced to pay for some past transgression (possibly when I pushed some
anorexic girl named Meg into a locker in high school (often) just cause I wanted to,
or,.. fuck,.. it could have been any number of things), guess who are in OUR fuckin
seats? Yup, you guessed it, Mr Retard guy from the checkpoint and his bizarro
Platiumn dyed blond monster/wife. Fuck me in the eye! I am about to have a
melt down, "Go to my happy place, go to my happy place", my saint/wife
interfaces with these crogmags and gives me the window seat, she taking the
middle right next to mister potatoe head who's real seat is the aisle seat.
This guy is taking up a significant volume of space, so much so that Hero has to
kinda lean on me. He was toadlike in shape and mannerisms. His f'in
wife/monster was flittering around making me nervous as hell,the damn guy could
not figure out the seat belt, it was like watching my dog Lucy trying to do a math
problem. His wife was helping him, bumping into Hero, it was a fucking goat
rodeo. Ok that ends, we take off and everything the flight goes pretty good
actually. I feel guilty and give Hero my seat, wait no thats a lie she asked me to
give up my seat and I begrudingly ablige. So I am sitting next to a Mr potatohead.
Oh yeah, it is an early flight like 8 in the morning or something like that.
This guy and his wife/monster we pounding scotches, I mean, eveytime the
stewardess came by, they were buying four more (2Xtwo small bottles each).
It should be said, that ordering drinks like they did does not make one a bad
person, to the contrary, I thought it was pretty cool, but now I have the possiblity
of two raging drunk complete retards sitting right next to me. Not a pleasant thought.
Anyway, we finally get over Mexico, flying over Cancun and the Yucatan Pennisula
it looks like a flat unending stretch of quasi-tropical/arid bush.
The water is a patchwork of blues, quite light near the coast.
We get through customs/immigration/baggage without a hitch.
On the way from immigration to outside, sales people gather around exiting t
ourists, inundating with offers of cheap transportation/tours/whatever.
We bust our way through these guys and make it to our guy who is waiting
with a sign with a horrible misspelling of our name. The driver turns
out to be friendly and cool, trying out his engllish and what not.
It’s less than ten minutes to our hotel, Westin Regina, that sits at the very south end
of the Hotel Zone, the Zona Hoteleria, the semi-detached island of tourist Cancun to
the southeast of downtown Cancun. Club Med is the only neighboring hotel to the
south of the Westin.
The driver drops us off at the lobby and we are pleasantly surprised.
The hotel is friggin super nice, it is almost a resort, like 8+ mini pools, couple of big
pools, outstanding view, open air bar, and 4 reatuarants on site, pool bar.
The staff is friendly and everyone speaks english well. It’s only 11am and check
in isn’t until 3pm. We’re out of luck. Looks like we have to wait until then.
We check our bags with the porter and amble around the hotel. We have a room at
the "Royal Beach Club", the premium section of the hotel on its south side.
(Has a private pool, and breakfast and happy hour is included in the price).
We walk through the main wing of the hotel that houses the restaurant, some pools,
a pool side bar. The ocean is spectacular. Unfortunatly, the red flag is up as it will be
the entire time we are their. Riptides. We sit at the Sunset Bar terrace and have a
lunch of burgers and fries. The burgers, though good, are different, kind of a dense
rubbery meat. After lunch, we wander around a bit more, then have a couple drinks at
one of the pool bars. Hero had a margarita and I had a couple of beers
(Dos Equis on tap to be specific).
By three, our room still isn’t ready. They have the bellboy drive us and our luggage
in a golf cart over to the Royal Beach club via a private cobbled lane that connects
the two hotel buildings. The concierge must have felt sorry for us (or at least
wanted to get us, the scene-makers, out of the lobby) so he told us we could have
free drinks at the bar (Amen, halleugha!) and he gave us one night of our stay free.
And moments later, our room was ready.
Our room is spacious but smells a bit moldy. The air conditioner is on and keeps the
room cool but the humidity lingers a bit. The room is pretty damn nice though, kinda
modern vibe, the bed was great, large flat panel TV, etc. We watch a little TV and relax.
We rise to go to Happy Hour down in the restaurant adjoining the pool terrace on the
first floor. When we get there, we take a table and meander over to the hors d’oerves
table, a pattern we will repeat for our entire stay.
Happy hour at the Royal Beach Club is from 5:30 to 7:30 pm every night and is
manned by a small hotel staff. You can get any alcoholic drink you want including
shots. My wife sticks to Vino Blanco, some kind of California white, and I either has
beer or margaritas. One night I get a shot of tequila. The drinks are good but we
suspect watered down or something. Either that or the change in climate/environment
has made us more somewhat immune to the effects of alcohol. I think I could drink
15 margaritas and not get sufficiently hammered. Beer was the better way to go s
upplemented with shots of Tequlia.
The Happy Hour buffet is substantial. They have do-it-yourself nachos chips,
pico de gallo, melted velveta type cheese, dice red onion, chile beans, refried beans.
They have finger sandwiches, BBQ ribs, glazed chicken wings, tamales, bite sized ham
and cheese burritos. There is always dessert fruit tartlets, slices of chocolate or
mocha cream layer cake, chocolate raspberry pastries as well as a fruit bowl with grapes,
bananas and other fruit including the Pitayaha, or dragon fruit, a strange round spiny
red fruit from the organ cactus; the inside looked like kiwi fruit but instead of being
green with dark seeds it was white with black seeds. We were so full after happy hour
at the Westin RBC that not once did we go out for dinner while we were there.
The service was good and we always left a tip.
More later....
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