Last resort

When Ryan and I travel alone we normally try to find a place that is comfortable, small, clean and most of all -- cheap. We like to be central so we can walk to see things and never care if food is included because who really wants to eat hotel food anyway? However, on our recent trip to Mexico we had more than just ourselves to think of. We had a father, three brothers, two sisters, three nieces and one nephew to think of, many of whom had never been out of the country before. The only way we were getting them over the border was to take them somewhere as familiar as possible. An all inclusive resort.

The resort was everything Ryan and I normally try to avoid when we travel. It was at least 30 minutes walking distance to anything of note -- and 15 minutes taxi ride to anything of note you actually wanted to see. Group activities were encouraged and all meals were served on the grounds. And this place was enormous. It had six different wings for rooms, four swimming pools, six restaurants and a night club. Walking from one end to the end took about a half hour. If you were looking for someone it was almost guaranteed you wouldn't find them before passing out from heat stroke. However, there was one thing that caught my eye -- it was cheap. Just one hundred and six dollars a night. Oh, and all drinks were included.

Twice Ryan and I managed what I came to refer to as "the Borg" in order to get something to eat. The rest of the time we lived on what could only be described as a step up from college cafeteria food. It was starchy, it was fatty and it was plentiful. It all needed salt. Because there were so many of us we normally couldn't get a reservation at one of the resort's "theme" restaurants and ended up at the buffet. There I would try to pick through the limp offerings in the steam trays -- usually filling my plate with whatever pasta was there that day. Yes, I was in Mexico, eating pasta. They also had a salad bar and a lot of fresh fruit, but I wasn't that desperate.

My complaints about the food pale in comparison to my complaints about the people -- or Resortians as I came to call them. It's like all the people that I try to avoid all came to one place and put on skimpy swim wear. And few of them should have been wearing skimpy swim wear. They also were all liquored up on the free drinks filling their giant mugs , so their personality traits were especially endearing. I came to identify several species...

Formalwear

• The Ugly American: The prime of example of this category was a very tattooed man who I don't think brought a shirt with him to Mexico. He wandered into the buffet one afternoon and was asked, very nicely, to put on a shirt or leave. He responded that "he paid a lot of money to come here, so he didn't need to follow their rules." Yeah. I think you get the point.

• The Gross Couple: There were a lot of honeymooning couples at the resort. And many of them were trying to start families -- in the swimming pools. One evening a couple floating in the pool was so involved in their amorous embrace that they didn't notice they were within inches of our two nieces. Yes, it was their first exposure to porn. Only the people weren't good looking.

This is tame. I can't post the other examples...

• The Braid People: All over the beach there were women offering to put your hair in cornrows. I said offering. They didn't hold you down and braid your hair against your will. But so many people had it done you would think that was the case. Let me make it clear: NO ONE LOOKS GOOD IN THIS HAIR STYLE!!! Not rap stars, not little children, not old ladies. It works on no one. And the sound of the beads clacking is second only fingernails on a chalkboard. And yet, every person with braids was smiling like they had just won Miss Universe. So, the braiding process must have involved some sort of lobotomy.
  

It looks great with her bedazzled jacket...

There are many other species to identify, the tour group, the couple trying to reignite their marriage -- but not talk to each other, the frat boys, the sorority girls, but I'm starting to piss myself off thinking about them all. But before I move on I must tell you of one more species: the ultimate Resorter.

She was about forty, skinny, with skin like leather. She was anorexic skinny, made all the more obvious by her sagging bikini and her cornrowed hair. Her physique may have had something to do with the fact that I never saw her eat -- just drink margaritas from a mug bigger around than her waist. She was obviously there alone, but managed to talk to everyone in a very loud, almost cab driveresque voice. I wanted to get a picture, but every time I saw her it was like seeing a unicorn, I couldn't risk looking away for fear she would run off.

Now, not everything about the resort was bad. The pools were huge, clean and warm. That may have been because so many children were peeing in them, but I don't want to think about that. Also, the drinks weren't bad, even if the wine was on tap from a container that looked like a foot locker. Also, I didn't catch any diseases -- that I know of yet. But would I go back?

I am shaking my cornrows very slowly no...