This place is ridiculous.


January 20, 2011 by sandwichcontrol

So, we’re here. In Cancun. The trip was seemingly painless, surprisingly. We arrived at the airport, which is an hour away from the house, at around 4:00am yesterday. After about 45 minutes of the Continental Airlines people not showing up, finally an American Airline guy manned the CA station to start checking people in. As soon as we checked in at the “self-service kiosk” the guy asked aloud “Who’s going to Cancun?” That is when the trickle of trouble began. But, doesn’t it always?

He informed us that their plane was delayed and that we would he was going to get us to Cancun via Delta. So much for those Continental miles that we were going to earn. Whatever. Instead of flying into Houston we got rerouted through Atlanta. We landed in the A-town (Dave, be sure to click this.) with just enough time to hustle to our boarding gate and get on the next plane. No food. No pee break. No time left for you.

After a few minutes, we were airborne again. And about 2 and a half hours later, we landed in Cancun. If you’ve never been here, their air traffic control tower is painted like a Corona bottle. ‘Nuff said. Cancun: Where the beer flows like wine.

After doing the Immigration thing, collecting our luggage (that, by some bloody miracle, was waiting for us), doing the Customs thing, and fighting through the hoards of time share/tour pushers, we found our shuttle and had just enough time to share a cigarette before being whisked away to the hotel. We arrived at the hotel around high noon. We were blown away at how relatively smoothly things were going. We should have kept our big mouths shut.

We got to the counter to check in and they informed us that the room wouldn’t be ready until 4pm and that we couldn’t check in until then. Okay. Then our luggage was swept away into baggage check and we were left standing there exhausted and over-dressed for our new tropical climate. Fuck. We did a little bit of exploring, but like I said, our outfits caused an excess of sweating, so no. Plus, Pancake Land was wearing her brand new pair of Converse and the blisters were already starting to take hold way back in the ATL. Not to mention this simple equation:

Shoes & Long Pants + Sand = Bad Service (if and only if S&LP is an element of a High Volume of Sand Transfer to the Interior of the Hotel and if and only if BS is an element of Hotel Employees Being Upset by a High Volume of Sand Transfer to the Interior of the Hotel)

Math is everywhere, but I’ll get back to that later, though. So, luckily, the lobby of the hotel is air conditioned and has free WiFi. Otherwise, Pancake Land and I would have had to make a suicide pact and died of heat exhaustion. The good news is that we were given our all-inclusive bracelets (read as meal ticket) and we could finally get something to eat. The lunch buffet was okay. I think the screwed up sleeping/eating schedule conspired against us to make us nauseous, but whatever. After our disappointing lunch experience, we laid about, without napping, for two and half hours in the lobby. After we finally got to check in, we grabbed our luggage from the baggage check and ran up to the room. We threw our bags down, P.L. slipped into some flip flops, and rushed to make our 5pm appointment at the… let’s just call it Pancake Land’s “Secret Mission”. More on that in a second. First, the view from our room:

Now back to the “Secret Mission”. This one turned out to be a blessing disguised as bad news. Apparently her “Secret Mission” contact had been trying to get a hold of her all day to inform her that their meeting would be this morning rather than last night. But, since we could not check in, the hotel had no record of her being here. (I guess looking in the small stack of documentation concerning people who were waiting to check in, to see if she was here, was totally out of the question.) Anyways, we trekked over to the “arranged meeting location” and, luckily, they were there. They explained the situation and arranged for our transport back to the hotel. Her contact is good at what she does. Pancake Land was very put at ease by the contact and we ultimately decided that it was better for the “mission” if P.L. was well rested.

So, back to the hotel we went. Dinner wasn’t offered for another hour so, we got to go hang out on the beach for a little bit. The sun was almost down, so it was cooler out and we didn’t fry to death. The beach here is a ridiculous place. The water is scary blue. This little trip to the beach was kind of a pay off for a rough day of sleep deprivation and waiting around. We pretty much had the beach to ourselves. The full moon was rising. And the water slowly turned from blue to black. A breeze kept the bugs away. It was so surreal, so foreign. Amidst the calming sounds of the waves, I couldn’t help but thinking about Trig and wondering about the wave functions associated with the water. I blame Dr. J for cursing me with this. Anyway, this was what I saw while I was thinking about Math:

Pancake Land and I, deliriously tired, had this deep conversation about the importance of being reminded of how small and insignificant we really are. Or something like that. It was pretty Jerrytown and we were both hungry, so we didn’t get too deep into the conversation. It was dinner time.

And boy, did we eat. We have decided that anything that resembles food that we are used to, should be avoided. Not that it is bad, but it is not quite right. It is like if aliens came to Earth and kidnapped you, and then used a machine to recreate a piece of baked chicken or a Brussels sprout, to make you feel at home. They are just off a little bit. Anyway, there was lots of eating stuff we had never had before. And dinner was a success.

This morning I learned, the hard way, the difference between real sugar packets and artificial sweetener packets. Breakfast was kind of a bust, but I am in charge of getting us reservations at the Italian restaurant, so good food will be had at some point today.

I got Pancake Land off to her “Secret Mission” and I am sitting in the lobby typing this, because there is no innernet anywhere else in the hotel. The plan for me today is to do some exploring, make the aforementioned reservation, and take a lot of photos. I have lots I want to talk about, but I keep forgetting to take notes, so I don’t remember any of it. Going to make an effort to do that today.

And don’t even think of giving me, the food guy, crap for eating at the hotel. The plan, aside from the “Secret Mission”, is to not leave the beach. To lay there, baking, and do nothing. That’s the plan. We will more than likely get bored of this plan in the course of a day or so and go do stuff elsewhere, but for now we’re going to stick to it.

In case you were thinking that this “Secret Mission” business has anything to do with getting married, you can just forget it. This is Pancake Land’s “Secret Mission”. It has nothing to do with me.

Also, Mexican music videos are weird.

Anyway, I’ve rambled on long enough and my butt is hot from sitting on this vinyl couch. More soon. ~SC


  1. TeacherSis says:

    Oh…I miss you already! But I am very happy that you are getting settled in.

  2. Chuy says:

    Can you explain the logic behind patronizing an Italian restaurant in Cancun?

  3. I’m going to go with… proximity.

  4. Curly Bill says:

    I’m almost positive that the majority of Italian food cooked in America is made my Mexicans anyhow…

  5. Curly Bill says:


    Although the comment, as it reads, is kinda interesting.

  6. Dave says:

    Cruisin to the ATM. Ahhh memories.
    Now for serious.
    If I dont hear that you, at the very least, dipped your toes into that gorgeous blue water, I will wait until you get back and are sleeping and then take a shit in your hair.
    Try me.

  7. What is this Secret Mission?! I’s gotta know!

  8. Word to Me says:

    If the secret mission doesn’t involve marriage…I don’t think I care 🙁

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