Anyone who knows me knows debacles of all sorts and varieties tend to abound when my mom and I travel together. For some reason, stories of said debacles seem to amuse friends and family. So I guess it’s only natural people would be begin to wonder about our last trip to Mexico. Got any weird stories?
For the record, our stay was quite ordinary, thank-you-very-much. We lounged on white sand beaches and sipped pina coladas and mango margaritas. We traveled to one of the new wonders of the world, where our poor gringa-selves nearly melted in the sun. We meandered through the shopping district and got fairly fluent in saying, “No, gracias.” Shop here! We are cheaper than Walmart. “No, gracias.” Do you want a free massage? “No, gracias.” Do you want a Mexican boyfriend … well, you get the idea …
And then we decided to parasail.
It was lovely. *sigh* As Dr. Seuss would say, “If you haven’t, you should, these things are fun, and fun is good!” Floating above a sea of blue, the world was at once peaceful and serene. Then we began to drift. It was hardly noticeable at first. But before we knew it we were looming large above some poor, unfortunate man minding his own business on the beach. His children, having run from the waves screaming and crying, each latched to a leg for dear life.
Normally I would have said something clever and witty, but two issues were taking precedence: 1) I was wondering how much of my white pasty butt was hanging out of the harness; and 2) we were getting dangerously close to a crag of rocks.
Luckily, the boat started moving again just in time. And we were floating up, up and away from the humiliation of it all.
Kinda like life, isn’t it?! Just when you think you’re about to get skewered on the crags of despair, the wind lifts your sails. All you got to do is hang in there. Chances are, when it’s all said and done, you’ll look back and say, it wasn’t so bad …
Oh look! There we are ...