What happens in Mexico...

I am back. Safe. Not sound.

Seven straight days of straight drinking. We were seriously savages.

Before we left, it was all finger pointing, hand waving “ I am NOT spending my entire vacation drinking at the beach and going to the same bar EVERY night. I just won’t do it. I want to shop, and go on tours, and see the city!”

Pfft. Yeah, right. We spent all day, every day at the hotel, recovering from drinking our faces off the night before, and then starting to drink again. The only thing that was different was that S and I went to a different bar every night.

So what did we see of Puerto Vallarta? We saw, in no particular order:

Senor Frog’s
Hilo
Carlos O’Brien’s
Andale’s
The Zoo
Some shady local bar called Dollar’s
A LOT of the three hotel bars

In retrospect, though, we all absolutely needed a good ol’ twist off vacation. All of us had experienced pretty crappy things over the past year, and it was nice to have some female bonding (Ha! I originally typed bonging…go figure) and some fun times. It was Spring Break down there, and we acted like a bunch of high school seniors on our very first beach vacation.

I managed to achieve my personal goal of making out with someone every night (apparently, in Mexico, I can flirt! And flirt well! Who knew?) Yes, this might sound trampy, but this is the first time I’ve been single in years, and my first ever all-girls vacation while I was single, so keep your opinion to yourself!

I was engaged to be married on three separate occasions; I actually got ‘married’ once! Then spent two nights with him sharing his room. Then found out he lives in my city, about 10 minutes away from me. Trust me to go to Mexico and meet a guy from my hometown. Frig.

I went to bed no earlier than 5 am on any given night.

I went in the pool! (Those who know me will be gasping in shock right now)

I broke my camera. I don’t want to talk about it.

I discovered these cool little purple-blue glowy things on the beach at night, which turned out to be plankton or something. Man, were they ever cool after a night at the bar.

I ate burgers every morning at 4 am with the rest of the crew, but I was the only one who had the privilege of wearing the chef’s hat.

I met a ton of really cool fun people from all over the world. Boston! Minnesota! Alabama! Ottawa! North Dakota! Iowa! England!

I danced my ass off every night, and lived up to my boozy nickname.

I made myself sick off of tequila poppers.

I saw a whale! A real one!

I did not get sick from drinking the water.

I had the best vacation of my entire life and miss the girls dearly every day that we’ve been apart.

It’s taken me a full five days to recover from the hangover. I am in serious withdrawal, and waking up to snow on Tuesday morning just about put me over the edge.
I’m dealing with a cold now, and still don’t feel 100% up to par.

Yet, even with all of these post-vacation-coming-down-symptoms, I wouldn’t trade one second of my week.