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Cancun's Dark
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Cancun's Dark
Half |
This
article provided by:
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So the hotel didn't have any towels and the toilet wouldn't flush. Big deal. It was my first trip and I was in exotic Cancun, Mexico. A leisurely week of debauchery awaited me, and these non-luxurious conditions weren't going to impede my fun.
"Let's check out the beach," my friend Lori optimistically suggested after seeing
our less than superior accommodations. We meandered through the tacky purple
and gold lobby toward the hotel beach. The white sands we had envisioned vanished
as our eyes focused on a crescent of black seaweed and sharp rocks that infiltrated
the surrounding tides. I should have known then that we were doomed.
As the week progressed, I discovered the real Cancun: A land of strip malls and food chains, meat-heads, long lines, outlandish cover charges, shady taxi drivers, dishonest hotels and absolutely nothing to eat on my budget. No, you can't drink the water; eat anything that has been washed in the water; or even brush your teeth with the water. Even if we dared to test the water we were at a loss since our hotel had run out by mid-week.
Despite having to shower at neighboring hotels (the line at the outdoor pool shower was just way too long), we didn't let the lack of water dampen our spirits -- at least until the last night. Getting ready for bed, Lori attempted to wash her face and turned the faucets as far as they would go. Still no water. Frustrated, she simply passed out on the bed.
Throughout the night I heard water gushing, but I was convinced there was a tropical storm passing over us. Even the continual knocking noises sounded like thunder to me, and it wasn't until I heard a man screaming in Spanish that I snapped out of my alcohol-induced sleep. I languorously lifted my head off the pillow, swung my legs over the bed, stood up and screamed.
I was knee-deep in a pool of freezing water three feet high and rising. The hotel had turned the water on in the middle of the night, and since Lori had left the faucets on, the water flowed generously. It flooded our room, the room below and all the rooms surrounding us. We were too unconscious to notice. The mattresses were soaked and the comforters were trashed; our suitcases were water-logged and our clothes were stained; our neighbors wanted to murder us and the hotel was charging us for damages. Consequently, we high-tailed the next day. As I waited in an airplane hanger for our flight (delayed six hours) with the rest of Cancun vacationers, I vowed never to go back to Mexico. I've yet to cross the border again.