Friday, June 10, 2016
I’ve had my fair share of crazy times in Mexico, but this one just might take the cake. I’m honestly not even sure were to start. Mimosas at 10am followed by Vodka shots at 11am is probably the best place to begin this ratchet tale of international debauchery. Our plan was innocent enough: a nice boozy lunch at the Mango Deck, followed by some beach time, then naps to recover and out to a fancy dinner. Ha! In our defense we at least made it to the Mango Deck, so 1 out of 4 ain’t bad.
Suzanne woke up at 8am for some ungodly reason and went down to the market to get champs and eggs. Mainly because she knows I get cranky if I have to start a day of vacation without either of those things. Mimosas quickly turned into group tequila shots (vodka for me, of course) and we were off to the Mango Deck at noon in our friendly neighborhood big green taxi van. Ah, the Mango Deck, how I love you. For those of you who don’t know, the Mango Deck is the better of two big bars on the main beach in Cabo San Lucas. They do two-for-one drinks pretty much all day, and even graciously host wet t-shirt contests for a little afternoon entertainment. Quesadillas and tits on the beach is always a recipe for a good time. We sat down and immediately ordered a round of shots, drinks and guacamole. The holy trinity of bachelorette parties. Our waiter was a nice guy named Hugo who had the abs of a greek god and hustled to bring me chilled vodka on command. What more could a gal ask for? We made Jenn do some games on stage that did not require her to remove her clothing, like bobbing for beers in ice water. She killed it. No one wants to see our old tits flopping around up there anyway. So you’re welcome, Cabo.
The early afternoon went a little something like this: shots, drinks, repeat. We met a boring bachelor party who looked like they were generally terrified of women. You know the guys I’m talking about – the ones who immediately inform you that they are married if you glance in their general direction. Chill out dudes, I just asked who the groom was. And for the record, he was on the golf course. Because apparently he would rather golf by himself than party on a beach with his friends at his own bachelor party. It was clear we would need some new party companions, however these boys would have to suffice for the time being.
Some nice woman was selling headbands with funny sayings on them. For some reason I opted for one that read “Baby Dick” because I thought it was hilarious. Hopefully that gives you some idea for my mental state at this point in the day. I then made the executive decision that it was banana boat time. As two of the girls in our group are braving Mexico with broken bones, we grabbed a few of the lame ass bachelors to fill the extra spots and off we went! Pictures of the drunken banana boat below for your viewing pleasure.
And this is where the day takes a hard left to crazy town. While in the process of moving from a table to some beach chairs, a boy came up to us and uttered the most beautiful words in the English language: “DO YOU GIRLS WANT TO COME ON OUR YACHT?” I immediately turned to see him point towards a 100ft beauty out in the ocean. Why yes, my knight in nautical armor, yes we do. We would later attempt to rationalize why they chose us on that glorious, sunny June day. We there younger girls to choose from? Absolutely. Sluttier ones? It’s Cabo, so obviously. I can only assume that their criteria for yacht party companions included the ability to withstand 12 straight hours of vodka to the face. I’m also assuming they saw 10 soaking wet drunk chicks who had just been thrown off floating banana wearing headbands that said “Baby Dick” and “Pussy Monster” and said to themselves, man I want to party on a boat with those broads. Whatever the reason, I have never been known to turn down a party on a yacht. Or even a fishing boat for that matter. So off we went in a glass bottom boat to meet the yacht that would make all my P. Diddy dreams come true.
These boys were in Cabo on a bachelor party, along with about half of the town. But make no mistake, they brought their A game. They even had a full staff to make us drinks (or my case, chill my vodka shots) and a chef to feed us. It was heaven. We spent hours running around the boat, dancing on every surface, drinking to our hearts content. And when the staff informed the boys that they had only booked the boat till 6pm, they just threw money at the problem and extended the party. My kind of people.
I feel like I’m not accurately painting the picture here. This yacht party was ridiculous. Even for me. I wish I had more details for you, but to be honest I’m about 47 shots deep at this point in the day, so it gets a little fuzzy from here. Alas, all good things must come to an end, so once we docked we had a decision to make. Do we try to salvage any part of our original plan to be real people and go to dinner? Or do we just continue down the rabbit hole and move the party to the bachelor party’s rented mansion in hills of Cabo? Decisions, decisions. So party on we did. Until well past our dinner reservations. Until we could party no longer. Until Jenn took a drunken spill in the infinity pool and quite possibly broke her foot. We bid adieu to our new best friends, sans tons of shit that we lost along the way during the day, but just happy that we were within ear shot on that beach earlier today when they said those magical words I will never forget. If you learn nothing else from this blog (and you probably won’t), please remember that answer to anything involving a yacht is always YES.
This Bitch Be Trippin 