Oh, To Be Twenty-One
In Puerto Vallarta, 29 Is Old Enough To Qualify As An Old Fogey
Hip Hop Polack
Issue date: 4/1/02 Section: Humor
- Page 1 of 1
Sunday, March 17th, 3:20am
Vomiting feels like a really good way to pass the next 30 seconds. For the most part, Rowland and Cottone are to blame. The previous night under that tent on St. Paddy's Day slowly faded into this moment, a 4am packing session – me stuffing dirty clothes into my dad's old army bag and Jeff going to the laundry room, in the hopes of taking some cleanliness with him on the way to Puerto Vallarta. Andrea, of course, has everything lined up in rows and ready to go out the door.
Eventually, we met the rest of the crew, late, at the airport. Not that the other people were still drunk from the night before - but instead of saying hello, Knauss greets me at the airport with, "Hey, I got an f'ing job offer on this date!" holding up his passport as if I can read the issuance date from 15 feet away. At least we got to Mexico in tact. The rooms at our all-inclusive club were not ready, so we dropped our bags on the pool deck, stripped down, grabbed beerz, and got wet. But … something looked odd. People were younger than us, or older than us, but NOT OUR AGE. Is this foreshadowing? Aww, why wait? let's just get right into it:
On Tuesday, Jeff, Brad, and I assent to be in the mystery contest on the pool deck. Once entered, we were informed that it was the 'sexy butt' contest. We gave it everything, boy. Shaking our asses in front of this all-inclusive crowd, we sang "GSB GSB GSB" like it was the damn national anthem. We danced our hearts out while the pool boys threw buckets of water on us. I actually nabbed 2nd place. It was probably because of the move where I dragged myself across the edge of the pool ....anyway.
We go up to the bar after to get a beer and calm the nerves a little. One of the judges in line speaks, "I voted for you! I thought you should have won!" Great. We've got conversation going here. "How old are you guys?" Jeff responds, "How's 25 sound?" (he's lying) She looks at Brad, who states honestly, "I'm 26." She says, "Oh good, because everything over 27 is past the cut-off." . . . . . .Jeff and I (ages 29 and 31), before having finished meeting our first girl, have had our sexy asses handed to us. Meanwhile, Brad's dancing around in his head like a monkey because he realizes that he's 'inside' the cut-off for virtually every young person at this resort. I took this girl's comments as an implicit request for us to go back to the old peoples' section, which I think we did promptly. At least the drinks were still free for us senior citizens.
That night we hit a place called PiPi's. Forever, anyone who relates this story to a non-attendee, will have trouble making her audience realize that the following is no exaggeration: This place serves marguerites so big that if you pass out at the table, you will drown. I'm not being cute. We had to watch each other and drink these with the buddy system. I managed to down two. Karen Lindgren took the first hit in credit card roulette. Her Duke credit card won this game – unfortunately the basketball team then lost theirs.
Went on to go dancing at Zoo. It was all a haze at this point, but I kind of remember being in a cage with Deb Pike, and maybe Renata. T'was from this magical night that Andrea acquired her nickname for the week, "Slim Shady." Or really, it wasn't till she rolled in at 6am the next day that she acquired the name. I never saw this guy, nor am I implying she was with a guy, but all I know is that while we slugged around the beach the next day in a low-hanging cloud, Andrea was doing cartwheels and back flips in the sand, but with only 3 hours sleep. Hmm.
On Thursday, we got up to go snorkeling. After getting up early to buy a hat, I found Hamilton in the lobby. She looked like she was crying. She was barely walking. When I got to her, she whimpered, "Do you know how ridiculous it is to be up this early?" Since it's already about 9am, I wasn't really following her. And I did feel like a champ at this point, having gone to bed at about 2am. I followed her into the gift shop where she was going to buy water. Things started to make sense – it became apparent that Anne should probably not drive a car at this point. That day, we snorkeled - she slept on the boat.
I mentioned the dispersion in the age of club members. Imagine trying to play tequila water volleyball, next to the seventy-year-old people who are trying to sleep in the sun, but with this one guy, probably about 19, who keeps screaming, "LET'S GET F'ED UP!!!" Fortunately, we heard there would be a second rotation of vacationers halfway through the week, so there was potential for the group to homogenize a little.
The second wave did roll in on Thursday. Wouldn't you know it - none of these people were guys. They were ALL girls, and they were all HOT. The story could go great places from here, right? Oh, no, that would be WAY too easy.
That day, our group was wading around at the opposite end of the pool when we noticed – actually, it's probably true that the entire complex noticed – that about 12 of these girls had gathered at the other end. And I'm telling you, this story is not for the straight guys. Even the women at the club all had their heads turned like, "damn, who they is?" I couldn't take it anymore. I coax Anne into separating from the group to go float across to the other end of the pool to see what's happening. I'd say it was about the time when we got maybe 25' feet away that I'm hit with the realization that one of the girls has braces! Anne and I travel another 2 feet, 7 inches, before it's clear that we're violating some sort of cosmic moral issue by even doing this. We turned our little boat around and returned to shore. At this point, we had two days left in our vacation. But it was, in my head, essentially over.
Of course, there were bright spots. During a random 'get up at 7:30am for NO reason,' I had one of those quiet, alone moments on the patio. It's a different world then. Grandparents are up with their grandkids. Reading books and explaining why the trees look different here than in Minnesota. The rest of the group was still tossing and turning in bed, their bodies trying to expunge the cheap tequila from the blood, knowing full well that the infusion would begin again in about six hours. Gliding past it all towards the beach, I descended the steps, which gradually turned into sand. The sun hadn't pierced enough of it yet to make it burn my feet. The dry 72 degree air was a vast improvement over what we'd be experiencing in Chicago. At this moment all was good. I'd recommend the all-inclusive thing as a bonding opportunity for GSB spring-breakers. But just, if you're going to do this, try not to be 29.
Vomiting feels like a really good way to pass the next 30 seconds. For the most part, Rowland and Cottone are to blame. The previous night under that tent on St. Paddy's Day slowly faded into this moment, a 4am packing session – me stuffing dirty clothes into my dad's old army bag and Jeff going to the laundry room, in the hopes of taking some cleanliness with him on the way to Puerto Vallarta. Andrea, of course, has everything lined up in rows and ready to go out the door.
Eventually, we met the rest of the crew, late, at the airport. Not that the other people were still drunk from the night before - but instead of saying hello, Knauss greets me at the airport with, "Hey, I got an f'ing job offer on this date!" holding up his passport as if I can read the issuance date from 15 feet away. At least we got to Mexico in tact. The rooms at our all-inclusive club were not ready, so we dropped our bags on the pool deck, stripped down, grabbed beerz, and got wet. But … something looked odd. People were younger than us, or older than us, but NOT OUR AGE. Is this foreshadowing? Aww, why wait? let's just get right into it:
 |
On Tuesday, Jeff, Brad, and I assent to be in the mystery contest on the pool deck. Once entered, we were informed that it was the 'sexy butt' contest. We gave it everything, boy. Shaking our asses in front of this all-inclusive crowd, we sang "GSB GSB GSB" like it was the damn national anthem. We danced our hearts out while the pool boys threw buckets of water on us. I actually nabbed 2nd place. It was probably because of the move where I dragged myself across the edge of the pool ....anyway.
We go up to the bar after to get a beer and calm the nerves a little. One of the judges in line speaks, "I voted for you! I thought you should have won!" Great. We've got conversation going here. "How old are you guys?" Jeff responds, "How's 25 sound?" (he's lying) She looks at Brad, who states honestly, "I'm 26." She says, "Oh good, because everything over 27 is past the cut-off." . . . . . .Jeff and I (ages 29 and 31), before having finished meeting our first girl, have had our sexy asses handed to us. Meanwhile, Brad's dancing around in his head like a monkey because he realizes that he's 'inside' the cut-off for virtually every young person at this resort. I took this girl's comments as an implicit request for us to go back to the old peoples' section, which I think we did promptly. At least the drinks were still free for us senior citizens.
 |
That night we hit a place called PiPi's. Forever, anyone who relates this story to a non-attendee, will have trouble making her audience realize that the following is no exaggeration: This place serves marguerites so big that if you pass out at the table, you will drown. I'm not being cute. We had to watch each other and drink these with the buddy system. I managed to down two. Karen Lindgren took the first hit in credit card roulette. Her Duke credit card won this game – unfortunately the basketball team then lost theirs.
Went on to go dancing at Zoo. It was all a haze at this point, but I kind of remember being in a cage with Deb Pike, and maybe Renata. T'was from this magical night that Andrea acquired her nickname for the week, "Slim Shady." Or really, it wasn't till she rolled in at 6am the next day that she acquired the name. I never saw this guy, nor am I implying she was with a guy, but all I know is that while we slugged around the beach the next day in a low-hanging cloud, Andrea was doing cartwheels and back flips in the sand, but with only 3 hours sleep. Hmm.
 |
On Thursday, we got up to go snorkeling. After getting up early to buy a hat, I found Hamilton in the lobby. She looked like she was crying. She was barely walking. When I got to her, she whimpered, "Do you know how ridiculous it is to be up this early?" Since it's already about 9am, I wasn't really following her. And I did feel like a champ at this point, having gone to bed at about 2am. I followed her into the gift shop where she was going to buy water. Things started to make sense – it became apparent that Anne should probably not drive a car at this point. That day, we snorkeled - she slept on the boat.
I mentioned the dispersion in the age of club members. Imagine trying to play tequila water volleyball, next to the seventy-year-old people who are trying to sleep in the sun, but with this one guy, probably about 19, who keeps screaming, "LET'S GET F'ED UP!!!" Fortunately, we heard there would be a second rotation of vacationers halfway through the week, so there was potential for the group to homogenize a little.
The second wave did roll in on Thursday. Wouldn't you know it - none of these people were guys. They were ALL girls, and they were all HOT. The story could go great places from here, right? Oh, no, that would be WAY too easy.
 |
That day, our group was wading around at the opposite end of the pool when we noticed – actually, it's probably true that the entire complex noticed – that about 12 of these girls had gathered at the other end. And I'm telling you, this story is not for the straight guys. Even the women at the club all had their heads turned like, "damn, who they is?" I couldn't take it anymore. I coax Anne into separating from the group to go float across to the other end of the pool to see what's happening. I'd say it was about the time when we got maybe 25' feet away that I'm hit with the realization that one of the girls has braces! Anne and I travel another 2 feet, 7 inches, before it's clear that we're violating some sort of cosmic moral issue by even doing this. We turned our little boat around and returned to shore. At this point, we had two days left in our vacation. But it was, in my head, essentially over.
 |
Of course, there were bright spots. During a random 'get up at 7:30am for NO reason,' I had one of those quiet, alone moments on the patio. It's a different world then. Grandparents are up with their grandkids. Reading books and explaining why the trees look different here than in Minnesota. The rest of the group was still tossing and turning in bed, their bodies trying to expunge the cheap tequila from the blood, knowing full well that the infusion would begin again in about six hours. Gliding past it all towards the beach, I descended the steps, which gradually turned into sand. The sun hadn't pierced enough of it yet to make it burn my feet. The dry 72 degree air was a vast improvement over what we'd be experiencing in Chicago. At this moment all was good. I'd recommend the all-inclusive thing as a bonding opportunity for GSB spring-breakers. But just, if you're going to do this, try not to be 29.