Tuesday, February 19, 2008

The Mexican Diaries: You Say "Tequila", I Say "T' Kill-Ya"

What would inspire two beautiful, intelligent, strong, independent women to suddenly decide to straddle a minature sized horse statue in the middle of the hotel lobby bar? And what would possess a self-assured grown man to allow himself to become "one of the girls" and also participate in this "horse riding"? And FURTHER, what would motivate yet another seemingly intelligent (sorry, I must emphasize the seemingly at this point) grown man to announce that he can roll a lime up and down on his belly and then perform said trick (again, in the hotel lobby!)? Now I'm not saying that any of this occurred one evening in the hotel lobby bar after having dinner down on the beach, but... Well, okay, I am saying that this occurred one evening in the hotel lobby bar after dinner down on the beach. And while I can't definitively place all blame on tequila, I cannot completely rule it out as the cause for such behaviour.

I believe the consensus on the first night of this vacation, by any of us who had ordered a margarita, was that, well, they were pretty much awful. Clearly the all inclusive package did not include the "good" tequila. I don't think it even included the "bad" tequila. I think it actually included the tequila that was so bad it could not be sold at all, as not even the poorest Mexican would pay a peso for it and in order to get rid of it, it was passed off to tourists at all inclusive resorts who would drink it because it was free (like us!). Yet, however awful these margaritas were, we continued to order them, drink them and order them again.

I know for a fact that margaritas were consumed by at least a few of the participants in the hotel lobby bar antics on the night in question. Further tequila was consumed by all participants in the form of shots while lounging in the bar. (I should note that one round of said shots was actually "good" tequila, sent over by one of Rhonda's (I mean Ginger, I mean Sandra) admirers. Although I think this was after the fact as some sort of toast to our antics.)

So, after a while, what do you do in a hotel lobby bar? Well, according to Jeffrey! Jeffrey! Jeffrey!, you roll a lime on your belly. And then you are given your room key and put into a taxi back to your room.



Now what? Well, there's this horse statue which I believed to be a permanent fixture to the ledge behind our couch...I decide that this is not only a great photo opportunity, but it's just a little bad to be horsing around on a piece of sculpture in your hotel lobby (no pun intended of course!) and well, let's be mischevious! So, much to Dave's initial chagrin, I'm on the horse.

Not to be outdown by a fellow attention seeker, Rhonda (oops, I forgot, at this point she is Ginger, I mean Sandra - it's a whole other story) also gets on for a ride. This is hysterical to us all (and yes, once again, you had to be there). We are being sneaky, trying to make sure our bartender Afrieme (NOT pronounced A-Frame, as I keep unintentionally calling him) doesn't see us. We have had our giggles and are on the couch when out he comes, picks up the horse, puts it on the ground and gives us the okay to ride away. Hysterical laughter. The thing isn't even nailed down! And apparently nobody cares if we're making asses of ourselves on it.

SO, not to be outdone, or perhaps to quieten our egging him on, girlfriend Dave hops on. Dave, by the way, has become one of the girls by default when Jeffrey! Jeffrey! Jeffrey! was sent home in a taxi.

I'm not really sure what else to say about this. The story had to be told. Likely not one of my proudest moments. Then again, definitely not one of my worst public displays of behaviour in recent history (you've read the Portugal blogs, right?) Surely a very fun moment indeed. And perhaps a little warning: while that cheap tequila won't literally kill ya, if you're going to drink it, spend the money and order yourself the good stuff.

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