12/06/2007
Al's Mexcellent Adventure, Days Six and Seven: Drunk Monday and Tulum Tuesday
Tito likes to drink.
Tito also likes to name things. These two passions first came together late in the Spring of '99, when our friends who left town for college returned after freshman year. About ten of us met up at Tito's house for a BBQ and a day drink. That day drink quickly grew out of hand and the next thing we knew it was seven o'clock and we had all run through personal 18 packs of Icehouse.
(Just typing that makes me want to puke.)
The day ended in all of us getting kicked out of a high school girls soccer game, Dennis Quiad going into work at Office Depot stinking drunk and dropping his pants in aisle five, and some lost hubcaps. And I'm willing to bet I passed out on Tito's porch.
That was on a Tuesday; or, as it came to be known: "Drunk Tuesday."
Fast forward to this year. I received the following e-mail from Tito on August 22nd:
"I say we have drunk Monday where we start with tequila shots at 10 and black out by 4. Then do it again starting at 8. Sorry for rambling, I am that excited."
Tito wanted a "Drunk Monday" and that's exactly what he got.
The families of both of The Wife and me, as well as a bunch of our friends, left on Monday morning to return home. Leaving Mexico always sucks, but it was rainy and (relatively) cold, helping out the leaving pains. Our group was down to ten, with Tito's parents set to arrive later in the day (they had passport issues. God damn democrats.)
We met up at noon and the beers started to flow like water. The next thing I know, there's a five-on-five battle of the sexes Catchphrase match going on (the girls would go onto win in three sets) and I was drunk. It was about five in the afternoon. Drunk Monday had come and gone and I spent the whole time drinking and missed it.
We met up for dinner, did some bartering on giant bottles of tequila, and headed off to see a hypnotist show. The hypnotist's (one Danny Doyle) show got off to a rough start when during the introduction the narrated voice-over said "Hypnotism has been around for a thousand years. No one know when it began." I turned to my cousin Jeremy and said "Sure we do. It was a thousand years ago. You just said that."
Danny Doyle succeeded in hypnotizing two out of twenty five people, but their spell (or whatever) wore off by the time his big finale came around and it failed miserably. Danny Doyle bombed.
Afterwards, Mr T showed up and we went snorkeling.*
Tuesday, we took a cab out to the Mayan ruins in Tulum and played around at the beach there. We stayed until around five, then cleaned up in the most disgusting bathroom ever and got yelled at for putting our feet in the sinks. We went into Tulum and enjoyed a whole meal of food and drinks at Charlie's.
The food was fantastic, as were the drinks, but what they poured us for shots would be what you or I here in the states would refer to as double shots. I took my first shot down, but struggled; it was really good tequila, I just can't do that big of a shot.
When it was time for our next round of bangers, I tried to ask the bartender to only pour me half of a "shot." He no comprendo. Dennis Quiad was working the town as our more fluent translator (he majored in Spanish at SMS), so I asked him to ask the bartender about my needs. Now, I may have only have taken two years of Spanish in high school, and, sure, I got Ds in both of those classes, but I'll be damned if Dennis Quaid didn't call me a pussy in Spanish. Pendejo.
The highlight of my trip to Charlie's was seeing this sign in the restroom:
In case you can't tell, it is requesting you to kindly throw your used toilet paper into the trash can, not to flush it. I had never done that before. So, even though I didn't really have to go, I squeezed one out and threw the leftovers into a trash can. When in Rome, as they say.
Later, we went back to the resort and I filled in on the bass during a Journey concert.**
*I have no idea what we did next, but that would have been awesome.
**Ditto.
Tito also likes to name things. These two passions first came together late in the Spring of '99, when our friends who left town for college returned after freshman year. About ten of us met up at Tito's house for a BBQ and a day drink. That day drink quickly grew out of hand and the next thing we knew it was seven o'clock and we had all run through personal 18 packs of Icehouse.
(Just typing that makes me want to puke.)
The day ended in all of us getting kicked out of a high school girls soccer game, Dennis Quiad going into work at Office Depot stinking drunk and dropping his pants in aisle five, and some lost hubcaps. And I'm willing to bet I passed out on Tito's porch.
That was on a Tuesday; or, as it came to be known: "Drunk Tuesday."
Fast forward to this year. I received the following e-mail from Tito on August 22nd:
"I say we have drunk Monday where we start with tequila shots at 10 and black out by 4. Then do it again starting at 8. Sorry for rambling, I am that excited."
Tito wanted a "Drunk Monday" and that's exactly what he got.
The families of both of The Wife and me, as well as a bunch of our friends, left on Monday morning to return home. Leaving Mexico always sucks, but it was rainy and (relatively) cold, helping out the leaving pains. Our group was down to ten, with Tito's parents set to arrive later in the day (they had passport issues. God damn democrats.)
We met up at noon and the beers started to flow like water. The next thing I know, there's a five-on-five battle of the sexes Catchphrase match going on (the girls would go onto win in three sets) and I was drunk. It was about five in the afternoon. Drunk Monday had come and gone and I spent the whole time drinking and missed it.
We met up for dinner, did some bartering on giant bottles of tequila, and headed off to see a hypnotist show. The hypnotist's (one Danny Doyle) show got off to a rough start when during the introduction the narrated voice-over said "Hypnotism has been around for a thousand years. No one know when it began." I turned to my cousin Jeremy and said "Sure we do. It was a thousand years ago. You just said that."
Danny Doyle succeeded in hypnotizing two out of twenty five people, but their spell (or whatever) wore off by the time his big finale came around and it failed miserably. Danny Doyle bombed.
Afterwards, Mr T showed up and we went snorkeling.*
Tuesday, we took a cab out to the Mayan ruins in Tulum and played around at the beach there. We stayed until around five, then cleaned up in the most disgusting bathroom ever and got yelled at for putting our feet in the sinks. We went into Tulum and enjoyed a whole meal of food and drinks at Charlie's.
The food was fantastic, as were the drinks, but what they poured us for shots would be what you or I here in the states would refer to as double shots. I took my first shot down, but struggled; it was really good tequila, I just can't do that big of a shot.
When it was time for our next round of bangers, I tried to ask the bartender to only pour me half of a "shot." He no comprendo. Dennis Quiad was working the town as our more fluent translator (he majored in Spanish at SMS), so I asked him to ask the bartender about my needs. Now, I may have only have taken two years of Spanish in high school, and, sure, I got Ds in both of those classes, but I'll be damned if Dennis Quaid didn't call me a pussy in Spanish. Pendejo.
The highlight of my trip to Charlie's was seeing this sign in the restroom:
In case you can't tell, it is requesting you to kindly throw your used toilet paper into the trash can, not to flush it. I had never done that before. So, even though I didn't really have to go, I squeezed one out and threw the leftovers into a trash can. When in Rome, as they say.
Later, we went back to the resort and I filled in on the bass during a Journey concert.**
*I have no idea what we did next, but that would have been awesome.
**Ditto.
Labels: Al's Mexcellent Adventure, Mexico, Stuff You Probably Don't Care About
