I Miss America and Sometimes She Does Too

"And sometimes I think of her
When she is fucking you
I love America
Yo siempre he confiado en ti
I love America
¿Por que me tratas asi?"

[Originally written on 2008-11-24.]

I think it's the 24th. I haven't done the arithmetic to verify this or not, and it's not worth turning on the GPS receiver to find out. Dinner last night was at Mark's, an Italian place that had an excellent saffron risotto and butter poached lobster tail[0]. The only downside is that the server took away my margarita de la casa before I was done with it, so I had to order a mudslide in order to satiate my booze lust. Monk and Stef are already poolside, so I need to hurry if I'm going to make today's aqua-aerobics class. The activities announcer here ends all his announcements with a bizarre ululation that sounds like festive water dripping: sort of an "oop-oop" sound. I'm going to spend another day readying and working on my tan. Oop-oop.





After a day of sun, hot tubs, hammocks, and another amazing dinner at Mark's, I returned to my room with a strawberry smoothie that I generously laced with tequila. I have discovered that there will be no obscene television for me tonight — the TV is broken. Perhaps this is for the best, as I have an early day tomorrow.

[Originally written 2008-11-25.]

It's after midnight no matter what regional timezone you choose. I'm mostly packed and ready to go: all my things are either in my bag, sitting on the guest bed, or waiting in the baño for me to use them tomorrow for my shower. We put a huge dent in the bottle of tequila we bought upon arrival...and we still have tres cans of Corona — a beer I never really liked until now — and listening to the slow, repetitive click of the ceiling fan. The blades are chopping the air, but something inside — a bolt, a loosened wire, something — is rhythmically clacking inside about four times a second. It was annoying at first, but after five days I'm used to it.... It's actually kind of endearing. Any minute now I'll pop in my earbuds and zone out with something on my iRiver. I made a Mexico mix before I left Los Estados Unidos and I've been criminally neglectful of my iRiver since the plane landed.

[0] Yes, I'm aware that in an earlier entry I wrote that I wasn't expecting much from Italian food prepared in Mexico. I wasn't. However, I'm happy to say that Mark's is amazingly good Italian food no matter the latitude.

No comments: