We're back from a weekend in Cancun. While it's nice to be home, it's still winter and I want to go away again now.

It's been a jumble of events; I hope I get everything in the right order...

The company I work for sent everyone (who could go) to an all-inclusive resort in Cancun for the weekend. A couple hiccups, as all travel has, and a bit of fun, as we all want to have when we travel.

The flight from Minneapolis departed at 6AM, therefore we planned to arrive at the airport around 4AM. The group was to meet at the group check-in at 4:15. Up late packing, we turned in and got a couple hours of shut-eye, jumping out of bed around 3AM.

We were prepared and got ready quickly. I called for a cab, was told one was available in the area and would be here shortly, so we waited. We waited some more. Eventually the cab arrived, drive slow past the house and turned around the corner at the end of the block. A couple minutes later we got a call from the cab dispatcher saying that the cab was outside; I told them we saw him approach but he kept going and isn't outside our house, the dispatcher said he'd correct the driver and send him to the right house. A couple more minutes later and he was outside.

We quickly threw our stuff in the cab and got going. First thing we noticed was that the cab wasn't much warmer on the inside than the twenty below-zero temperature outside. The next thing was that the driver wouldn't exceed 40MPH. Finally, he decided to take the long way to the airport. Being tired and patient and lame we just mumbled to each other in the back and rode it out to the airport where he drove to the farthest entrance for NWA before letting us out. Milking every bit for the fare, I guessed, so I gave him the spare change and a dollar over the amount on the meter. Screw that.

We rushed around the airport and found our group. We still beat the expected time for the group check-in counter to open. We milled about with the others, excited and tired, and all looking forward to a weekend in the tropics. About an hour passed and we learned that the group check-in wasn't open at 4:30AM, but 5AM instead. No big deal, there were still a couple stragglers to our group. Then the first check-in guy got there, evidently surprised to find a group waiting. Our travel agent, there to help keep things smooth, learned quickly that we should have just checked-in individually upstairs. A quick pass through the self-check-in machines, and everyone had a boarding pass. A less quick pass through security, and everyone got a nice trot to the plane. Everyone made it in time, although probably more harried than necessary.

The ride to Detroit was uneventful. The landing, however, gave everyone a pulse-quickening. Well, at least to everyone who knew what a landing was supposed to be like. As we approached the ground, the pilot quickly threw the engines into overdrive and we rushed back into the air. A brief announcement that we'd been too close to the plane ahead, but were going to make a quick circle and try again, let us know that we'd been waved off by the tower. We circled and landed without further incident. A quick jaunt through the airport there, and we were again on the way.

The flight to Cancun, and the subsequent landing were uneventful, and after a short zig-zag through the airport, passing the luggage claim area, and we queued up for customs entry into Mexico. Passports are checked and a quick push on the lottery button, and we were through. It seemed every third person in the airport was vying for attention, apparently to try to sell some kind of timeshare, but we made it through without purchasing anything. A quick scan of the signs outside the airport and we found the tour group guide; he directed us to "number nine" by the buses. We started for slot number nine, and got caught by a fellow company guy who indicated the correct bus; we quickly noted the bus had a sign with a number nine on it, and divined the previous guide had meant the bus, not the bay.

The ride to the resort had its own brand of entertainment. A tour party-girl with a shrill voice and a Fran Drescher laugh peddled beer and tried to get everyone to party-up. She obviously underestimated the introversion of the average American nerd.

We arrived at the resort, grabbed our bags, followed the line through the hotel, and queued up for check-in. The staff at the hotel started in with the niceness we would come to enjoy for the rest of the visit by bringing everyone a festive drink of their choice and sometimes a new one to experiment. A normal and fast check-in later and we were on our way to the room.

The room was nice enough. Walking in on the right side of the room, the bathroom area is to the left. The shower and toilet are in separate glass rooms against the wall the door is on, with a pair of sinks opposite. Between them, on the far wall, is a three-door closet. Beyond the twin sinks is an enormous Jacuzzi tub, and beyond that is a king-sized bed, and then the balcony door. On the right-side of the room is a flat screen TV, set kind of between the bed and tub, and a dresser with a refrigerator in it. Next the 'fridge is a three-bottle dispenser.

We unpacked a few things, tucked the passports, tickets, and other stuff we wouldn't need for the rest of the trip in the safe, switched out of the winter clothes and into some shorts. We headed out to check out the hotel and see what other company pals we could find.

The weather was barely less than perfect. Just a bit cloudy and very windy. Still there was the wonderful temperature; an excellent eighty or ninety degrees warmer than when we left in the morning. Curiously, many people, the wife included, commented how cold it was. Apparently they were quick to realize that we left the tundra just a few hours before.

I lamented that the beach was closed, so there'd be no first-thing dash into the waves. We found some drinks and wandered around between the groups, introducing each other to each other and our companions. It's a consulting group, so I've only really engaged a few of the employees, and had only met one of the non-employee guests; one of the guys also on my gig is dating a girl who also works there, so we've met.

After a bit we returned to the room to put on some warmer clothes and prepared for the arrival mixer. Just a more official gathering like the day had been, except it got dark, had a buffet, and was by one of the covered pool areas, instead of just by the beach. After a couple hours of milling about and tasting the foods and drinks, we returned to the room for some shut-eye.

The plan for Friday and Saturday was to leave them open for whatever vacationing individuals wanted to do. A scheduled dinner for Sunday night was really the only function after the arrival mixer.

The wife and I had a nice quiet breakfast and set out for a day of power-lounging. She wanted to plan some activities for Saturday and maybe Sunday morning. But for Friday, just unwinding while thawing on the beach. We'd both brought a couple of books, and she wanted to get some sun.

We returned to the room and changed into more beach-friendly wear, and made for the warm. The weather was nicer, but the winds were still high enough that the beach was closed. Well, technically, the beach was open, but the red flag was out, indicating no swimming was permitted. There were a few people wading in the surf, but if they got in too deep, like waist-deep, someone would rush out and herd them back in. We ended up milling about with some folk from the company, enjoying the relaxation and improved weather, eventually settling into a couple of lounge chairs out of the way.

After a while she checked out the spa, and had something relaxing done to her. A light rain rushed in from the ocean, giving everything a quick wet-down, but I was tucked far enough beneath an overhang that only some slight spray hit even my feet. Still better than home; I'll take a tropical rain over a snowstorm any day.

I sat around on the lounge chair for a while more, and then got up to stretch my legs. I found some fellas hanging out in one of the pools who goaded me into jumping in. I dashed to the room and swapped my shorts for swimwear, and raced back down, jumping in right away.

I hadn't realized how much I missed swimming, even though this was really just floating about. The pool was heated, so it was nicer than hanging outside the water. The kind waitress brought some more beverages, and we even toughed out another little sprinkle. It wasn't a lightning storm, after all, just a small drizzle from the sky.

Dinner time arrived, so I changed again into real clothes, and we met up with some folk for some dinner. Because of the weather, wind and chill, really, the hotel closed the terrace restaurants, so we pretty much took over the more casual place indoors. Much food and drink was had by most. I'm trying to behave on a diet, so I chose responsible portions. I still had a variety and probably a little more than I should have, but I didn't do too bad.

Lazily, after dinner we returned to the room.

After breakfast on Saturday, we thought to do something more than hang at the hotel. Unfortunately, the way it seems to work requires a little more advanced planning, so all of the excursions we might be interested in had already started. We scheduled some stuff for Sunday and settled in for another relaxing day.

We spent a little time on the beach. The sun was out and the winds had died down. I was busy slathering on sunscreen to avoid the tropical burn. After a little while sitting on the sand, I decided it was time to frolic in the surf.

I coaxed another guy out and we just splashed around like a couple of chuckle-heads, fighting to stay on our feet in the smashing waves. Sun, sand, and surf; what more could you want?

We headed in after a while, and after a little more time on the beach loungers we went in for some lunch. We ended up lurking about with some of the others, bouncing around between groups as we mingled about the place. After a while, it turned into dinner-time.

We ate again at the casual place, mostly because we liked it. After, we ran into some folk at the bar. While we were enjoying yet another free cocktail and trying to decide what to do that night, a show started. We all gathered around to watch as the rather funny staff grabbed a few people from the audience to embarrass. Since we were almost seventy strong, quite a few people were from our group.

There was a macho contest, where the contestants had to go through some goofy motions and the crowd, by show of applause and cheering, would vote for the most macho man in the room. Well, of the contestants, anyway. Then, since we were at a couples-only resort, with no kids allowed, they did a kind of saucy balloon-popping game. Both were very funny, and in both cases, our troops did the winning. A number of us recorded what we could with our phones; mine sucks, and every thing ended up too dark, and most of the audio it picked up was from the closer crowd than the show itself, so I didn't share mine.

After more discussion it was decided we'd brave the downtown area and hit a different bar or two. Six of us banded together and hopped a bus to near the destination. We hopped off and walked the last few blocks to the activity, rather than sit on a bus near the action. We ended up going into one giant mosh-pit club. Every place was set up for spring break, with most having drinks-included, or at least a lot of drinks included. Entry cost about $50 no matter where we went, so we decided on the Congo Bongo since it was well advertised and we were standing just outside of the place anyway.

Inside was just mayhem. A mob flows through a Disney-land like series of channels, winding through an outdoor area, down a couple long hallways inside, up some escalators, and again another long hallway. Partway through I was reminded of an old joke about a whorehouse run by nuns.

A few guys on the road see adverts for a whorehouse run by nuns. Giving into temptation, they stop and inside are greeted by the top nun. She explains that indeed this was a whorehouse run by nuns, and took their money. She directed them through a door and explained that they should continue down the hall and they'll find what they seek at the end. The hallway is long and dark, and eventually they make their way to a door. They push through it, and as the door closes behind them, they realize they're back outside in the parking lot. In front of them is a big sign that reads "you've just been screwed by nuns."

We weren't screwed by nuns, but instead found ourselves in a melee of drunk twenty-somethings. We grabbed a bunch of our "free" drinks and rounded the corner and abruptly stopped at the end of the crowded pit that appeared to be the main party room. The room is a giant bowl, filled with bobbing heads, under flashing lights, with a stage of sorts in the middle that is crowded with beach hotties doing their best to party the most. Off to one side is a stairwell where there's a fella dressed as Beetlejuice from the movie of the same name. He's accompanied by a few midgets dressed the same way. They do a little show, roughly in time with the music. The music was a collection of the party hits from today and days gone by, but only a part of each song. A good thirty-second swipe through the middle of a song, just long enough to get a cheer and different bounce from the crowd, and a new song bit would start.

We watched for a little bit, buffeted by new arrivals to the club who were more interested in pressing into the crowd. After a while of getting pressed, us old folk wandered back out to the hallway bar we'd walked by and out of the heat and rampage of the thunder dome. A couple of the guys went deeper into the fray.

The music was plenty loud coming through the hallway, and still piped in speakers over the bar, but it was much more tolerable. The flashing lights made the hallway seem like something from a sci-fi movie devouring all who entered. Few who went in came back out. We stood at a fairly out-of-the-way spot, avoiding most of the flow of traffic and settled in for some chatter and people watching.

After a while we decided to give in and head back. It's been a long time since I stayed at a place until 2AM. I'm glad I did, as I'd never been to a spring break before. I just felt like I'd arrived twenty years too late. We asked for an escape route that wouldn't take us through the pit of dispair, and were directed out a convenient door into a regular mall hallway. A little jaunt through the concrete tube, and we were in an ordinary shopping mall. Everything was closed, of course, save a few fast-food places that were taking advantage of the greasy desires of the drunk.

We headed on foot over to where we thought we could catch a bus back, reliving the night. I think a pretty good time was had by all. Not as good as it seemed some of the young 'uns who were more the demographic of the pub, but a good time nonetheless.

We didn't find a bus, but were offered a bus-rate taxi ride by a nice guy who gave us the low-down on bus and taxi corruption in Cancun the whole ride back. He was quite pleased to give the four of us a ride back for just a few dollars.

We didn't fare too badly, suffering only from a late night. We're beyond the age of heavy drinking, so we didn't suffer any ill effects from that. We had a nice quiet breakfast and wandered the hotel again.

We discovered that we pretty much had the whole place to ourselves as a great many of our gang had gone in on an all-day excursion. We didn't want to get up earlier than needed, so when asked on Saturday, we declined. Later, we learned that they'd been partially scammed; they'd been told that if they had enough people going that they'd get essentially a private cruiser. The did get enough people, but it turned out to be too many for the available boats, so they got split-up anyway, and on each of the boats that did go, they weren't the exclusive group. Still it sounds like they also had fun.

After a while we got ready for our excursion. We'd decided to take a lagoon tour on wave runners, which included a bit of snorkeling out in the ocean. The directions we'd received were great, if you knew the landmarks. It turns out there are two of the Senor Frog's, and we went to the wrong one. It worked out OK, and we made it to the place just a few minutes late, and they had kindly waited for us.

The wife hadn't ever been on a wave runner, and I'll admit I'd never driven one, 'though I motorcycle all the time. She took the first shift and drove out. There were a few moments where she got a little wild, squeezing the throttle more as the impacts with waves got worse, or the wobbling steering jerked us about a bit more. A couple of times I had to tell her to let go, which settled the craft down, and we could continue without fear of flying off the thing. It was a fun ride, though, and we made it with smiles on our faces.

Thinking we were better off for it, we had brought our own scuba gear. I've got some rather big fins, and my head doesn't fit the general pool of masks that most tourist places go. As such we'd had to wedge my fins on the platforms of the wave runner. This wasn't a big deal, but between me wrestling those out, and she reaching into the boot of the runner to get the other gear out, our twisting and turning resulted in dumping us into the water before we were prepared. I momentarily lost my snorkel, but the guide found it pretty quickly.

After just a few minutes of snorkeling, the Canadians who were also with the group got out of the water. Evidently, one of them was afraid of all of the fish. There weren't that many fish...there was one school, but they were happily getting pressed back and forth in the current, and weren't bothering with the swimmers five feet overhead.

Unfortunately, we were compelled to wear life vests the whole time we were in the water, so it was really just a bunch of floating about with our faces in the water. While a fine time, it was nothing like really snorkeling, and while interesting, the area really reminded me of the bottom of lakes near us, instead of some of the tropic areas we'd come to enjoy on our trips to Belize.

After what seemed like we'd just started, I got tapped on the shoulder and we were told to get out of the water and start back. The other couples were already on their watercraft waiting for my bobbing butt to get on mine. More carefully, the wife and I stowed our gear, I looped the strap of my wet bag around my leg and took control of the craft for the trek back.

It is not like riding a motorcycle other than the way you sit and the fact that you use a handle bar. I think the ride back was smoother only because we were going with the waves. Where the wife would squeeze the throttle harder when the going got rougher, I think I erred the other way, giving in to much less throttle than would be really necessary when we started getting a little too bouncy. We found a groove, kept up with the group, and made it back safely.

Then the flaw in my plan hit me. Unlike the others, I'd not brought a change of clothes. Somehow I'd convinced myself that the time traveling back on the wave runner would be enough to dry my swimwear. This was true enough for most of the shorts, but the shirt I'd worn to fight the sun was soaked and didn't benefit from the wind as it was under the life vest. Additionally, while the suit is really a couple layers of fast-drying nylon (the solid blue everyone sees, and a nice mesh beneath), there's a big padded bit that goes beneath, kind of like a big diaper. It didn't get a chance to dry much, either. Add to that the quick rinse I took when we got back to the place, and I was basically just dripping as we walked away from the place.

We wandered a little bit up the road to the bus stop, and happily got there just as a bus did. The bus was empty other than the driver, so we spread out near each other and recounted the afternoon. As we prepared to disembark, I realized I'd made quite a puddle, and the other failure of my planning hit me; I'd not brought a towel. Thankfully one of the others had, and it was just a hotel towel, so I mopped up my drippings and we made our way back to the room to clean up and change.

A nice long shower later, and we again hit the terrace for a little more lounging. A dinner on the beach was planned for Sunday night. We weren't quite sure what this meant as the beach by day was covered with lounge chairs.

We returned to the room and made ourselves up for the night. Another shower to get rid of the sunscreen and embedded sand, and a quick press of our not as casual garb. While getting ready we watched a little of the Inaugural event on the television.

We dressed and met up with the others and indeed headed to the beach. The hotel had cleared the chairs and set up a buffet-style appetizer area and some tables. We milled about for a while and headed over to grab seats at a table. They had another buffet-style dinner set up, so when told we made our way through the line and had some dinner, too. As always, there was a steady flow of drinks. Again, I behaved, although maybe not as well as I should have.

We joined everyone as we all wandered about the hotel for the last night. We returned to the room a little early, tired from the adventures of the day, and stuffed with food and drink.

We aren't frequent travelers, but we've done enough to know how we travel, so we set about packing and preparing for departure the next morning. Somewhere between prepping for moving out and turning-in, we each noticed a bit of a dripping noise. I thought it was either plumbing or something the wife was doing on that side of the room, but she thought it was a weird sound to be coming from the other side of the room where the only water was in bottles or the ocean outside.

We quickly determined there was a steady drip, drip in the ceiling above the jacuzzi. We guessed that the people up stairs must have filled or drained theirs and it somehow spilled or otherwise leaked. We called the front desk, alerting them to the situation. They sent a fella up who couldn't hear the noise, but did notice a staining on the ceiling. The stain wasn't new, and didn't appear to be wet, so he tried to convince us that it was nothing and went upstairs to check with the patrons above. While he was gone, the wife and I decided it was a little discomforting, and if nothing else, we didn't want to be disturbed by the plop of water all night.

The guy returned and told us the guests above were not answering his probably very gentle knocks (he knocked gently on our door even though we'd called for some attention), and again tried to assure us it was nothing. The wife kindly insisted we see if there were other accommodations, and he waited while she called the front desk again. They passed the phone back and forth a couple of times, she speaking to them in English, he in Spanish. During one of her turns on the phone, he was quietly standing for the first time. Suddenly his head jerked toward the ceiling as I imagine he heard the distinct plop of water. He climbed onto the tub and pressed the ceiling in a few spots on the stain and the nearby unstained ceiling. On his next turn on the phone he spoke and frequently spied the ceiling again. When he disconnected, he let us know they were going to move us to another room and apologized for any inconvenience.

We hastily gathered our things as a bellhop arrived with a cart. Thankfully, we'd already largely packed for travel, so the move was short.

We moved to a spot on the "first" floor, which is one level up from the main entry. Only in America, I think, is the "first" floor the same as the ground floor. The new digs were a little bigger than the old ones, and we had a straight-on view of the beach with an enormous deck. Unlike the other one, our deck was separated from the others by only a waist-high wall and railing, so we wouldn't have been able to sleep with the door open if we'd wanted to. It was warm enough, but we're hesitant like that. Not that I'd expect any of our neighbors to invade our room, but there was a bit of the deck area that was connected to a doorway accessible from the hallway and not through a room. Just not our style.

Not that it mattered, 'cause we were fast asleep after brushing teeth and turning in.

We woke to another beautiful tropical morning. I walked the distance of the room and quietly made my way out on the deck just about in time to watch the sun rise. It was mostly risen, still just touching the horizon. A few staff and early joggers were out. I returned to the room to prep for the day.

During our dressing, the wife realized she'd left her sandals in the shower of the previous room. A quick call to the front desk and help arrived at our door to escort me to the other room to fetch them. They were right in the shower, tucked behind the door out of sight, where she thought they were. The ceiling over the tub had an enormous hole in it, and the tub was filled with ceiling. There didn't seem to be any debris outside of the tub, and the tearing of the sheet rock seemed to be minimal, so it may have been done by hand, but there also weren't any drop-cloths nor were the bedding, furniture, or even decorative bits moved aside as I would have expected should some person have done the destruction. The bellhop commented that it was lucky we changed rooms as that might have been quite disruptive and unfriendly to happen while we were still in the room. I was tempted to photograph the hole for proof, but didn't want to seem like I was trying to embarrass anyone.

I returned with the sandals and the story, and the wife was quite happy that we'd decided and she'd insisted on moving. I went again on the balcony as she was finishing her preparations and found another fella I know from the company was next door. We'd worked together at another company on a different gig, and kept ending up at the same places in the hotel, so we'd taken to joking that I was following him; this just seemed to make it all that much more true.

We got some breakfast and relayed the story to those we encountered there, too. Shortly it was time to check-out, so we did, surrendering our free-drink bracelets and hanging out in the lobby until our bus started filling. Each time we found someone in a room near our first one we'd query if they'd heard anything. No one had, and we'd relay the story again.

The bus arrived, we all got on, quiet trip to the airport, and through the airport, including a few long queues. The flight home was uneventful. We were seated apart, me next to strangers, so I just stuck my face in my book. It was cold when we got home. We shuttled through customs with the whole plane.

We half-hoped for an offer of a ride home from someone, but didn't press and weren't put-off that no one did. Travel wears a person out. We grabbed a cab and were home in no time. The house was as we'd left it, the dogs happy to see us. Everything was still clean and nothing was broken.

Almost immediately I wanted to head out to the next vacation. Alas, to work again...