Swan song

Wednesday night, atop the third floor of El Asador on Avenida Yaxchilan, I proclaimed that I would never again visit Cancun. Was I on JagerBomb number three in that hour? Had I been drinking for the last ten hours and convinced everyone to skip dinner for a spontaneous trip to Centro? Were JagerBombs the least potent of anything I had had as a shot that day? Yes to everything. But it dawned on me even when I landed the Friday before and was being shuttled to Kim and Arturo's house that the odds of me coming back to vacation in Cancun were not good.

It's not that I don't like it anymore. I mean, who doesn't like the beach? But there's just something not there anymore that used to be and I really doubt that it will come back. Kind of a been-there-done-that sort of thing. Plus tourists irritate the crap out of me.

But what a great trip you guys all missed out on! Naked Steve and his wife Sue showed up as a grand surprise for Marita and Dave, Marta and I cohabitated somewhat reasonably well, I didn't spend TOO much money, didn't get hit by a car, only ended up with three bruises and one cut, taught Lumpy the meaning of "no", and got a fairly good tan. Our weather was perfect, we were ridiculously popular, and the staff dug the hell out of us. What more could you ask for?

Maybe that feeling to come back. The one that makes me want to turn the plane around and go back. That feeling of "I'm home". It's just not there anymore. And that's not a bad thing, it's just a "let's do something different next year" thing.

I'll try to get some pictures up but I just thought I'd let you know that I'm back and there isn't any need to ask me if I am moving there again. Because I'm not. Believe me.