Like many people, the very first night of my very first vacation will be forever imprinted upon my memories. I assure you every word if this article is true.
Red-eye flight. Rush to the airport. Forgot the camera. Turbulence. Lost baggage. Too early to check in, and too late for lunch. Over-dressed, over-stressed, unkempt and under-slept. A disastrous beginning to a hard earned vacation for an exhausted, single, female student. I feel like crying but manage not to.
The baggage finally arrives (with a room key) at five o'clock, warranting an immediate trade of the sweat-suit for a sarong and bikini. A quick rifle through drawers and the mini-fridge earns a postcard and a Coca-Cola in a glass bottle. Check the bed for lumps, the bathroom for towels, and the closets for any treasures (like a luxurious robe). Now I can feel myself slowing down.
Absorbing the sights and sounds for the first time is magical. Palm trees sway in a salty breeze. Impossibly blue water is contrasted sharply by pearly white beaches. Various brightly colored lizards and birds compete for sunning spots on the balcony. Insects and frogs lay a base track to the classical music floating from the main foyer. Exploring the resort grounds and its many pools, spas, restaurants, and entertainment concludes with a tequila shot and margarita chaser at the swim-up bar. This is promptly followed by intense heartburn, the spins, and a brief nap on a pool-side lounge chair - but being woken up by a dreamy cabana-boy just before dusk insinuates it was not such a short nap after all.
I zip back to the room for a cold shower and wardrobe change, only to discover the makings of a serious sunburn are at hand. Finding aloe-Vera fast is the key to surviving the rest of this trip with only mild discomfort...now where did my wallet get to? A frantic rummage through luggage for traveler's cheques and shorts reveals several forgotten items - most notably toothbrush and shaving cream.
Finally achieving all these goals, my stomach now audibly indicates its neglect. I knock on the door of my traveling partner's suite and we discuss the seven possible dining options available at the resort. Deciding on dock-side seafood, my stomach (with a little help from the maitre d') leads the way to a table with a perfect view of the ocean. A perfect golden sunset spreads the last of its rich tones across the sand, and a pelican is perched at the end of the dock (still no camera!). I want to select something from the menu that won't compliment my cherry burn - settling on fresh sea bass and a juicy looking, neon-colored cocktail.
Stuffed to the brim, and with a fresh glass of crisp white wine in tow, my friend and I migrate towards the foyer. The classical music from earlier is replaced by a lively string quartet, a magician for the children, and a meringue instructor for the adventurous. Platters of fresh fruits and flowers adorn every table, and a relaxed mix of families, couples, and partiers mingle around a central granite fountain. As I meander closer to the fruit presentations, a small child screams and darts behind me. I turn to see what he was running from, and a giant, angry bee is coming right for me! So I whip off a sandal and wave it aggressively at the bee in warning, taking a small step back - slipping on (I kid you not) a chunk of banana! Bashing my head on the seat of a chair, I am now sprawled on the floor, soaked in white wine, one shoe missing. My good friend, of course, is howling with laughter, along with various nameless individuals.
A supervisor rushes over, helping me up and retrieving my shoe. He is completely appalled and apologetic about the entire incident, insisting on an all-inclusive upgrade for both my friend and I.
Now with a shiny black wristband to flaunt, I head back to the swim-up bar and order...
...A shot of tequila with a margarita chaser.
Ahh...Cancun.