Page 18 of Here You Are

“In case I shit myself.”

“Every day, multiple times?”

“It’s Mexico! I don’t know how my intestinal tract is going to react to the food. What if I brush my teeth with tainted water? You saw what happened to Charlotte, and all she did was open her mouth in the shower.”

“Cora, that was a movie. Millions of people survive traveling in Mexico every day. However, if having twenty-five underoos makes you feel better, I support you. What are you planning on wearing to bed?”

“I just sleep naked, you know that.”

“Uh, maybe you don’t sleep naked when we are sharing a room for ten days.”

“Ok, good call. I’ll pack some sleep clothes, and then if I shit my way through all of them, you’re going to have to deal with me sleeping naked. I might be naked the whole last half of the trip, depending on the butt situation.”

“It’s fine. I overpacked, too. It’s hard to know if we are going to want to chill in bed at night or go out and do something.”

“Girl, we are not going there to rot in bed the whole time. We are going to party, and you're going to like it. We are both going to have a one-night stand that is not to turn into a two-night stand. We are going to be young, wild, and free.”

“It’s like you don’t even know me.”

“It’s Mexico!”

“Well, I hope you don’t accidentally shit on your one-night stand.”

“Oh god, I didn’t even think about that. I’m packing more underwear.”

Our flight to Cancun went off without a hitch. We arrived in the afternoon and spent 100 hours in customs with 9,000 of our new closest friends, waiting to get into the country. We bought $20 margaritas at the airport while we waited for our ride to the hotel. The air was hot and humid, and the sun was shining, and I had never felt better. On our drive to our hotel, I took in the palm trees while holding on for dear life because we were cruising at top speeds. There were some other couples in the van getting dropped off at their resorts. In front of us, a mother and daughter appeared to be traveling together.

The mother: “How fast are we going? It feels like we are going too fast,” she asked as she leaned around the driver to peer at the speedometer. She yelped and yelled, “OH MY GOD! We are going 110 miles per hour!” while punching her daughter in the arm.

Her daughter: “Mooooom. We are in Mexico. It’s kilometers per hour, you moron.”

This had me, Cora, and the driver silently giggling. I started to see glimpses of the ocean out the window; the water looked just like my desktop screensaver. It was not the color of the Midwest lakes and rivers that we were used to.

Cora gasped, “Oh my god, look at that water. I honestly don’t even care if I'm shitting myself the whole time if this is the view.”

I elbowed her as our driver was giggling to himself. He probably hears a lot of dumb shit from tourists. “Dude, can we chill with the shitting yourself thing? Not everyone thinks you're as adorable as I do.”

She mimed zipping her lips, and we continued watching out the windows for the rest of the drive.

When we arrived at our hotel, the first thing I noticed was the smell. I smelled the ocean and the aroma of the lobby, and a total sense of calm washed over me. All of the anxiety in my brain dissipated. We checked into our room, got freshened up, and hit the pool for a bit before the sun went down. When we walked into our hotel room, the curtains covering our balcony windows automatically opened, revealing the sunny skies, aqua-colored water, and white-sand beach. It was paradise, and our home for the next ten days.

Our first morning, we headed down to the beach to snag some chairs to live in for the day. We had been exhausted from our travel day, so we went to bed early the previous night. The sun was coming up over the horizon; there was a slight breeze, and the sound of the rolling waves soothed my soul. I mentally declared that I was doing this every year from now on, because what was the sense of having money saved when you could be spending it on a vacation? Cora and I settled into our chairs for a day of sun, drinks, and relaxation.

The relaxation was short-lived when a local came up to ask us if we wanted any marijuana. We declined, so he leveled up to cocaine.

Cora exclaimed, “Dude, we should so do cocaine while we are here!”

I stared at her with my mouth agape, then shook my head and told the salesman, “No, thank you.”

“If there is ever a time in my life when I decide I'm going to try cocaine, I can tell you it is not going to be cocaine I bought from a beach salesman in a foreign country. It is going to be cocaine from a trusted source, and I'll consume it in the parking lot of my preferred emergency room in case things go south. There will be a physician present in the car. In other words, I'm not doing cocaine with you today or ever.”

“Geez, I wasn’t serious. Mostly. We’ll just stick to fruity drinks. Will it be okay with you if they put alcohol in them, you giant baby?”

I pushed my sunglasses to the top of my head to give her a side-eye. “Yes, I can do the alcohol. I intended to do many alcohols, in fact. Let’s get started now.”

“Whoa, slow down, tiger. It’s only 9 a.m.!” Cora mock scolded me.

“It’s Mexico!” I shouted back, and we erupted into giggles.