Albertian and I hit the sack two hours before the alarm clock went off at 3:45 a.m. We wore light sweaters and flip-flops to the airport in Newfoundland’s chilly “spring” weather. When we told the cabby that we were headed to Mexico’s Riviera Maya, he asked if we had brought enough condoms. Gross. But yes. I brought 50. Minus 50.
Our flight was over six hours long (direct, fortunately) and we preoccupied ourselves by playing Hangman and discussing how crappy Canjet is. Trying to find a comfortable sleeping position on a Canjet flight is like trying to put my ankles behind my head. I slept on Albertian’s shoulder, she slept on my ass. It sucked, until we caught a glimpse of crystal blue ocean beneath the wings of the plane.
The Cancun airport was like walking into the fiery depths of HELL. The rest of our plane went to line up for immigration but we stayed behind a few minutes so Bob could quell her motion sickness, but by the time we emerged from the bathroom, 20 other flights had apparently entered the Cancun and were lined up. It took us FOREVER to get through, and the other passengers of our plane were gone. Instead, we were delighted to feast our eyes upon a middle-aged, leathery-tanned, blonde, fake-breasted, mid-life crisis woman and her doting husband showing her off for the world. Class, lady. Grow some class.
Then we dragged our luggage through the x-ray machine thingy and we had to press a big button of DOOM. So of course when I pressed the button the light turned red and sirens started wailing and the police came out and start clubbing me. Joking, but I did get my luggage searched. So did Bandaid, and the officer stole her comb.
However, when we finally reached the exit, it was like walking into a whole new world. We emerged blinking and shielding our eyes and trying to find our tour group among the masses. There was a freakin’ welcome bar just outside the exit. A BAR. In the middle of nowhere. We found our bus and clambered aboard… we were the last people to arrive. I drank beers and sang cheers and I wanted to get up and hug the bus driver because I was so filled with love and happiness and RAINBOWS.
It took two hours to reach our resort, and during that time we got to check out the other resorts along the way (none compared to the Gran Bahia Principe Coba, of course). By the time we reached check-in, I was sweating profusely and nearing DRUNK stage. I tried having a sensible conversation with the check-in senorita, but my eyes were crossing and there was a strange buzzing in my ears, so I counted on the girls behind me to understand everything she was saying. Good thing, because I suck.
Once we had our keys and map, we tracked down our villa… the only successful endeavour of the evening. Our rooms were immaculate and comfortably furnished. Orange, blues, greens… big colourful paintings, a coffee maker, and most importantly, a great, private balcony. Most of us hadn’t eaten in over 12 hours at that point, so we immediately dropped our bags and ran to find a snack bar. We loaded our plates with random assortments and gorged for at least 30 minutes.
The next thing we needed was a drink, so we located the pool with the swim-up bar. Perfect. We ordered rounds of dirty monkeys and daiquiris, then floated around in a happy stupor. After trying to roll over the separation between the Jacuzzi and the pool, Bandaid lost her drink in the pool. An older man floating by looked at us and said, “No sunburns…you can always spot the new ones.”
By supper time, we were incredibly pissed off with this incredibly massive resort. Let me explain that this resort is actually three resorts in one: Coba, Akumal, and Tulum. Although we stayed in Coba, we had access to most everything else in the other resorts, and all it took was a short trolley ride to get there. However, on the first evening of our arrival, this concept was like trying to decipher ancient Egyptian hieroglyphics. Nothing made sense, and our orientation wasn’t until the following morning. Instead, we wandered around until we found the buffet restaurant.
Okay, before I left, I ran into a lady who had just came back from my resort. She said the place was great, but the food at the buffet got tiring after awhile. Seriously? Are you kidding me? Every day there was a new selection, and oftentimes we wanted to try EVERYTHING so that we ended up needing to go back for refills. It was incredible, just endless food for everyone! Lordy I thought I had died and gone to heaven.
After supper, we managed to somehow locate the empty beach. We lingered in the swings of the swing bar (where couples drop their room keys in a hat, everybody picks a different key, and then pairs up with that person for the night…not), dipped our toes in the water, and posed for pictures on the dock. By the time we got back to our rooms, we were still pissed off, anxious to figure out the trolley system, and just tired of life in general. I mean, we stopped to take pictures of an iguana for two minutes before we realized the creature was DEAD and picked apart by a bird.
I fell into my bed at 8:30 p.m., and never awoke until 8 a.m. the next morning. You must realize how astonishing this really is: I didn’t wake up to hear the girls going to bed, I didn’t need to pee throughout the night, and it was my first night in a new place. Paradise, baby. Paradise.