My roommate and I are dead donkey broke- but decided to say a big “Fuck You” to Bush by spending our Economic Stimulus checks on another country.
No… it didn’t go quite like that.
I’d like to think that my All Inclusive Cancun Vacation was a Political Protest- instead it was a wine soaked evening in front of a lap top which ultimately decided the trip. After several grueling hours crumpled in a plane- me and my roommate, Heather- I doubt she’ll mind if I use her name- finally tumbled into the hot and semi overcast wonder of Mexico. Already I could sense the deep stench of couple-dom surround us as we waited for our poor deflated luggage to come hobbling through the baggage return. I noticed the ever present uniform of matching sweats, weary faces, and flattened up do’s- which could only mean one thing: I was in a Honeymoon Vortex. Heather and I had previously joked that this was going to be our “honeymoon”- but I had no clue that there were going to be so many freakn’ newly weds. It was almost as if I had a giant sign that read, “SINGLE” in scarlet red letters across my chest. On the shuttle to the hotel we met a lovely couple who had to be at least 21. They told us they were from “mAAAAss” which I took to mean Massachusetts . Apparently, they had just got married the night before and boy did it show. The groom was friendly, but stared out the window of the van with the glazed, “I’m in over my head and super hungover” look. The bride’s fake eyelashes clung to dear life as she rubbed the corners of her eyes smearing the last remains of her professionally done make- up. This was the ugly side of marriage and I secretly noted to take a break, at least to wash my face between the wedding and the honeymoon.
The pleasantly deflated love birds were the last friendly couple me and heather encountered the rest of the trip. The hotel was beautiful, but should have been named Jerk Town, because that’s all it seemed to accommodate. Who knew that people who were supposedly in love could be so damn cranky?! From the moment we checked in, to the time we exited the premises we were encased in a bubble of assholes. Which is a shame because the staff was wonderful- by wonderful I mean they said hello and constantly fed me alcohol- which is the way to my heart.
The women of the hotel were from various walks of life, and there must have been a representative from all age groups. Yet there were two uniting factors which made them seem like clones to me; they were all fat and angry. You don’t even know how many ladies I spied rubbing sunscreen on their exposed fleshy parts as they scowled down the waitress when handed their fruity drinks. Needless to say, this made Heather and I (two single ladies) the target of many leers. I’d like to hope that during my honeymoon and/or anniversary, I wouldn’t have to worry about my spouse as much as these ladies where.
Yet, unfortunately they had reason to be so overprotective, because these men… these bloated rolly polly, t-shirt tan, hairy men were pigs. Especially when their angry broads weren’t around.
I’d like to bring your attention to Exhibit B.
Trying to take advantage of the sun, Heather and I decided to sit by the pool. On this particular day, it seemed that the entire hotel thought that this would be a fabulous idea resulting in a shortage of lawn chairs. After fiddling with two broken chairs and circling the pool, we finally decided that moving two empty lawn chairs out of the shade and into the sun would be the best option. I’d like to think that me and Heather are sturdy individuals- but these lawn chairs must have weighted a ton each- so we had to tag team it and move one chair at a time. Reclining next to these chairs were two Grampa black guys who were obviously checking us out. Instead of silently checking us out as they probably would if their collective angry wives where next to them, they choose to revel in their freedom and heckle us as we moved each chair,
“Tryn’ to get some sun, eh… hahahahah… don’t work too hard… hahahaha, try not to hurt yourself hahahha… that one doesn’t like me…”
The “one” being me, obviously since I’m black I should be extra responsive and enjoy being checked out by men who looked like my great uncles. It would have been nice to get some help instead of being mocked by two beached whales… but I was on vacation, so I smiled and continued to move the chairs. Not wanting to move very far, we went about 3 feet and placed them next to a Yee-Haw white guy in a baseball cap, who once we were done looked up and said,
“Well, I guess I should have told you that these two chairs were empty… they just have some towels on them.” That was annoying. To add insult to injury the two Gramps added,
“Way to tell them about the chairs after they moved the other ones!!!” To which Baseball Cap replied,
“I’m on vacation, meaning my brain’s on vacation,” Then out of nowhere the portly Russian gold chain wearing man who had been silently observing the whole situation decided to add his two cents,
“Well sometimes it’s nice to see women actually working.” They all had a big old laugh, while I sat horrified at the idiocy of these douche bags.
One by one, each of the spouses returned to their chuckling husbands. As each angry lady plopped down, each man stopped chuckling and took on a very pious look- as if they weren’t just apart of a giant sexist bru-haha.
Looking at these pitiful individuals I decided not to make a funk, after all, once I left the premises I would never have to encounter these people ever again. While these Piggy men and Jerk women were attached to each other for however long their unions would last.
I laid back, flashed a smile at the waitress as she handed me my sugary concoction and decided that being single was a very wonderful thing.