Puerto Vallarta, Mexico

Each night, upon approaching the hour of intentional intoxication, we would commence questioning of the bell boy to determine the night's party location. "We want authentic food," we'd say and our bell boy would direct us behind a counter and grab some coupons for us. "We want hot women," we'd say and our bell boy would tell us about a happening club. After our intelligence gathering, he would direct us to one of the taxi's which were always waiting outside of our hotel. Once in the taxi, we put our lives on the line with the aggressive driving of the Mexican taxi drivers. We'd also attempt all our rudimentary Espanol with them. Our conversations with the taxi driver varied in the livliness depending on whether or not we previously drank.

It was immediately apparent that the reason one goes to Mexico is to drink. With our first dinner, we had at least 4 or 5 shots of Tequilla. At other times we'd go to a club and order our respective drinks only to find it was 2 for 1 night--this is what happened on one memorable night at The Zoo. While I had quit drinking in the United States, I found myself drinking throughout the afternoon in Mexico (and during the entire night), sitting pool side with a Pina Collada (sp?) converting sunshine into sunburn.

Walking on the beach was my first surreal out-of-country experience. Planning on a peaceful walk on the beach is near impossible because roving merchants affront you in 15 foot intervals. One could buy hats, sunglasses, sombreros, T-shirts, jewelerly, pipes, drugs--virtually anything that was portable was purchasable on the beach. The point of these purchases is, of course, to haggle to a price where you think you're getting this great deal and feel you can't turn it down. I found the only way I could feel good about myself in doing this was to carry with me a strong rum and coke as well as carry around additional alcohol in my bloodstream that I previously consumed.

One day, we met this lady, memory fails to recall her name, and she told us about this trip to Los Arcos on a boat. She referred to it as a booze cruise--she said they served liqour on board the vessel. This, for 30 dollars, we signed up for. We quickly discovered the night life in Mexico. At about 4 or five o'clock we'd clean ourselves up, drink alcohol in our hotel room, and go out to eat. After our supper (we ate at a different place each night), we'd find a club to go to. The first night we went to the Club Roxy. This place was pretty unique because it was slightly off the beaten track and featured a live band playing tunes like Bob Marley and Jimmy Buffet. Another place we went to was Christine--a lavishly expenive dance club. Basically, you paid for special effects like dry ice shooting steam from the ceiling and confetti and lights and lasers...and, oh yeah, free liquor (at least on the night that we went). I never enjoyed clubs in the states, but in Mexico, for some reason, they were just fucking awesome.

During the day we'd strut around the town and look at all the sideshops. The people there spoke enough English and we spoke enough Spanish to make simple transactions and inquiries. The flea markets were such a strange sight to my eyes that I enjoyed them more for the ambiance than their fake Rolex and Citizen watches. You could definitely tell it was a tourist town, however, because a glance past the main streets revealed the poverty hidden beneath the facade of clubs and alcohol and drugs. This is not meant to detract from Puerto Vallarta at all because it was a great vacation spot (especially for college kids like me) with agreeable people and lots of liquor.