I've actually drank to the point of vomiting five times. Not four.
I'm planning a trip to the tropics again, and I was reminiscing about the times I've been sun burnt beyond comfort in the past.
Scuba diving in the West Indies, bus touring Mexico, snorkeling coral reefs off the coast of the Yucatan, and touring the temples at Chichen Itza... And then I remembered spring break in Cancun.
I went with a friend who was excellent with women. He had recently started an exclusive fucking arrangement with an exotic woman, so he was there for moral support and to be my awesome wingman.
We went on peak week, so the resorts were absolutely packed with bikini clad hotties. The hotel staff would organize strip volleyball, drinking games, wet t-shirt contests, and all sorts of activities with the ultimate goal to get everyone stark ass naked and fall-on-your-ass drunk.
My kind of vacation.
We planned on being mostly sober the whole week, so the first night we got there we decided to get the drinking thing out of the way.
I certainly did.
We got to the hotel late, but just in time for the party crawl going to Daddy O's.
Fifty bucks put us on the bus, got us in the VIP door, put us in the VIP section of the club, and provide us unlimited bottle service for the night.
Fuck. Yes.
And, with no open liquor laws in Cancun, and an all-inclusive hotel, we loaded up with as many cups as we could carry full of shots for the bus ride there.
We handed out the shots and made a few solid 'cheers' with everyone around us.
My idea. You know me, I get the party started.
I was getting fully drunk before we even got into line at the club.
The crowds were intense. Even the VIP line was out the door and down the block.
Our guide told us before we got in the door to hold on to each other and not get lost. I laughed. Until we got in the door.
I looked at my buddy. The look on his face was priceless. 'Shit just got real,' he said.
We fought our way through the crowd up the stairs to the VIP area that had reserved tables for us. A shot girl wearing stickers on her nipples and a micro bikini offered a tray of unknown liquor that was kind of a blue-green. Instinctively, I asked her how much they were. "Free." Right. Cancun.
We polished off her tray.
We sat down at a table with a group of girls and a passed out man wearing a kilt.
Bottle service showed up with a 26 of vodka, and a couple jugs of mixer. The mixer was something red and delicious. It tasted like awesome, and even with a half-and-half mix, completely covered the flavor of the vodka.
I polished off two bottles of vodka by myself.
At which point, my brain shut off.
Total blackout.
The next thing I remember was waking up in my hotel room mid puke.
I started to freak out.
Not because I was puking.
Because I was puking red. Bright, blood red.
It took me a minute, while still puking, to figure out what the fuck was happening.
Red mixer. Right. I calmed down a bit, and continued puking.
Then I had a flashback of the hotel bill from my birthday party bus night. At least the floors here were tile, not carpet. And, there were two beds in my room.
I wrapped the vomit up into the blankets and piled it all in the middle of the bed. Cracked open a Coca Cola and poured it on the tiles and let it do its thing for a few minutes. Then used a towel to scrub the soda off the tiles along with all the congealing puke.
Then I crawled into the other bed and went back to sleep.
I told the maid the next day that I had made a mess and mimed vomiting. She didn't speak a word of English. But when she saw the bed, she understood.
Her shoulders fell, and there was a look of despair on her face.
I handed her a hundred pesos note and apologized.
And promptly left.
I needed free beer.
