My eyes opened somewhere around noon time, and I slowly made my way out of bed. Iliana was still asleep, her too a victim of the long night before. I made my way out into the living room, the apartment being very calm and quiet. Just outside the scene was very different. Everywhere you could hear cars and buses driving, tourists walking and talking, and yet again the echoing “Smith party of 4" from the neighboring restaurant. Vallarta was in it’s normal afternoon hustle and bussle, which by my standards didn’t seem like much hustle, and hardly any bustle. No matter how busy people seemed to be, to me everyone was so relaxed and laid back. Vallarta is hardly a big city, so this amount of “busy” was just the right amount for me to relax. I put on my running shoes and stepped out into the afternoon sun. The kids were out playing soccer in the street, and ran over when they saw that I had awoken. They laughed at my messed up bed hair, and my overall hung over appearance. But one thing they loved, was my shoes. Now I’m a shoe guy. I like to have nice shoes! Who doesn’t? I like to think that shoes can make or break a person. A beautiful in a killer outfit can walk by me, but if she’s got nappy shoes, then sorry, it ain’t gonna work out. I don’t know what it is, but I think that if a person can take car of their shoes, then maybe they keep good care of themselves. Maybe I have a foot fetish (most guys do) but I just enjoy a nice pair of shoes! They don’t have to be designer shoes, they don’t have to be expensive shoes, but please don’t be nappy! Keep them clean, keep them somewhat new, and try to make them watch what your wearing! Please!! Ok, so back to me. Well like I said, the kids liked my shoes. Who could blame them? They were brand spanking new! Like I said, I had got only the best for Gaby, so that involved brand new Adidas. All the running in the gym had got me hooked on running shoes, so a few weeks before I left I bought some new ones off of Ebay. The kids just couldn’t get enough of them, they kept asking me what size I wore, how much did I pay for them, and if I could get them a pair. These were just Adidas folks! Even though they were new shoes, the style wasn’t the newest, being that I only paid 25 dollars for them on Ebay. I almost felt bad too, wishing I could somehow pull two pairs of Adidas out of my suitcase for the kids. I told them that I would try to get them some, some even cooler then mine. They agreed and asked me if I wanted to play some soccer. Me? Sure! Why not? As we kicked the ball, Iliana had awoken and came outside to watch us. She laughed at me, turned around, and went back inside.
The day progressed slowly, but soon we were on our way to go swimming. Leo had come through on his promise, and soon Iliana, Myself and the kids were on our way to his condo. Well him and his partner that is. I soon met him, Leo’s partner, his name was Bill, and he was a older gentleman. He was American, and actually very nice. He was from Chicago and seemed like the average retired American. We drove for about 15 minutes, stopping at what looked like a huge Villa. “This is your apartment?” I asked Leo. “Well it wasn’t all ours” he laughed. They had one condo of the 6 or 8 condos. But either way it was awesome. As we parked the car we got out and made our way to the front door of the condo. As we walked in I was amazed, everything was modern and pretty much what you would imagine a high dollar condo would be. The kitchen was large, and the furniture was made of bamboo and other tropical designs. It also had something very modern called “air-conditioning” something that Karina’s apartment lacked. But as pretty as the furniture was and how modern the condo was, there was one thing that made it stand out above anything. The View. I hadn’t realized how far up we had drove, and when I went out to the balcony it hit me like a ton of bricks. It was beautiful, the bay right there in front of me. You could see the entire bay almost, the curvature of the land and the mountains that came down to the beaches. The site was just gorgeous, and I just couldn’t get enough of it. I imagined myself somehow living there, waking up every morning and walking out to my balcony to see the great blue bay in front of me. I decided that if I never was to get married, if I never have the chance to love someone, but I had that view, I would still be happy. Something about looking over the water at that height, it was just gorgeous. I couldn’t get enough of it. Check this link out, and you will see why:
http://www.casakristin.com/
this condo is in the same building as Bill’s. Actually if you look at the picture on there, you can see his condo. His is in the middle section of condo’s the 5th one up from the pool level, the one right below the highest level. His view is even better then the one you see from the condo on website. It’s just beautiful, I really was taken back and completely beside myself.
Back to the story. We decided to go swimming, and we made our way down the stairs to the swimming pool. The swimming pool was beautiful also, the bottom being inlaid with tiles, the shape of a sea turtle swimming at the bottom. The view from the pool level was just as beautiful, with the blue bay there just within your reach. We swam for a while, the kids running and jumping and being the crazy kids that they know how to be. As the day progressed the sun started making its descent into the western sky, and we made our way back up to the condo. Bill had made some drinks (alcohol included) and we all sat out on the balcony and talked as the sun went down. First the bright yellows, then the deep oranges and reds, and finally the dark blue and purple. As I said before, there is nothing quite like seeing the sunset over the ocean. I guess coming from a land locked city like San Antonio, I am in love with the ocean. I was never really that inner city kid who never went to the beach, but I always loved the ocean. It’s humbling when you see it, in it’s endless form. How it seems to just go on forever without end, it makes you really rethink things in life. Or it makes me at least.
We ended up dropping off the kids at the apartment and decided to get something to eat. Bill said he knew a good taco place and we drove about 10 minutes till he found it. Well this “place” was not a “place” at all. It was just a taco cart, with a few wooden stools set up around to sit on. But the tacos were delicious so I had no reason to complain. We could have went to a fancy restaurant, but the price and the food might have been less then great. But this place was great, cheap and good. And who doesn’t like cheap and good? I stuffed my face with 8 tacos and 3 Mexican Cokes (the best soda in the world). With full stomachs we made our way back to the Karina’s apartment. Bill was going to drop off Iliana and myself, and then after a while Leo would join us for the evening’s events. And what events they were.
I can’t remember much from that night, but I will try my best. I don’t remember what I was wearing, but I’m sure it was something comfortable and beachy. We made our way to Carlos O’Briens again around 11. And soon after that we were all joking and laughing in our drunken stupors. I remember looking to my right and seeing another guy sitting with us, he looked familiar but I couldn’t place his face. He turned out to be a guy named “Roberto” (not me), who happened to work for my cousin at Archi’s. He had known Iliana for who knows how many years, and was a native of Vallarta. I said hello, probably screaming it over the blaring music. I remember us leaving not too long after, and walking down the main street. I don’t remember much, but I remember we arriving at a building and walking up a dark staircase to what seemed like another one of these upper room open air clubs. As we walked in, I realized it was not “another” upper room, open air club. But it was the same damn club we had went to the night before! I had been suckered twice! Good thing I had some alcoholic influence that night, because I fear what I might have seen. But on the flip side, going to this club again was a good thing. See, we had the other guy, “Roberto” with us, and it seemed like he didn’t understand where he was. It took him a while, but when it finally hit him, his face completely changed. Suddenly he seemed completely uncomfortable in his chair, and looked like he just wanted to get the hell out of there. I laughed to myself, wondering if I looked the same way the night before. He stared straight ahead without ever looking in any particular direction, trying desperately to make himself believe he was in another place. Any place but this. But not me, I didn’t care now, I was buzzing and laughing with Iliana and Leo. We didn’t stay there long, I guess Leo sensed that “Roberto” was extremely uncomfortable. Not that I wasn’t but I didn’t care, none of these guys were checking me out, so hey, no harm, no foul. We ended back at Carlos O’Brien’s and the other “Roberto” was back to his comfortable laughing and funny self. I would have to admit though, it was nice to watch him squirm for a bit, poor kid. The drinks kept flowing and the time kept flying. I remember having to use the “facilities” so I made my way up the men’s room. As I walking out I noticed some girls had a table set up and were selling some temporary tattoos. I decided to be spontaneous and get me one. As I searched through the binder I found the one that I liked. It was a shark, but it looked like a tribal shark design. I’m not that big on the whole tribal design, but I liked this one, so I decided to get it. They asked me where I wanted it, and I thought for a few minutes. I know! I decided to put it on the back of my neck. I figured if I ever was to get a real tattoo that’s the place I would want it. Too often have I seen guys with the arms full of tattoo’s, I wanted to be a bit different. So as they put it on me, I asked in my drunken spanish “Quantos?” or how much. They said a number to me, but being that it was in spanish, that we were in the middle of a raging club with blaring music, and the fact that I can only count up to 10 in espanol when I’m sober (and I was NOT sober) I didn’t understand. So I just pull out some pesos and hand it to them. Ok cool, whatever I got my tattoo. But just as I was handing the money over a hand came out of nowhere and grabbed it from me. It was the other “Roberto.” He had seen me over at the tattoo table and made his way over. He saw the amount of money that they were taking from me, and instantly said something to them in spanish. It didn’t sound to friendly either. He then handed me back most of my money and motioned for us to go. Turns out, I was going to pay 22 dollars for the tattoo, and after “Roberto” swooped in, it only cost me 3. Ok, so that was cool. Not getting ripped off was cool. I thanked “Roberto” in my drunken spanglish, and he laughed and made the gesture of what I could only guess would mean “no problem.” I was debt to the man, so I had to repay. And what could I do to repay him? What do men do when they fell obligated to another guy for a deed well done? We buy them drinks. So as a token of my thankfulness I bought “Roberto”a shot. But a ordinary shot. While sitting at the table, a beautiful woman walked by me, and I realized she worked there. She was carrying a bottle of what looked like a mixed drink, and double shot glasses in a leather holster around her waste, and lets just say she was a bit scantily clad. So I pointed at “Roberto” and held up some money. She then proceeded to pull out one of the double shot glasses fill them up with whatever mixed drink she had, STRADDLED HIM, and poured the shot down his throat. Not a nice pour either, not like the type of pour that a mommy gives a baby, with fear that he will choke or spit up. Nope, this girl just open up, and down the hatch. She did this for three shots, and then on the last one, put a whistle to her mouth and blew. She then pinched both his nipples through his shirt, gave a kind of slow punch to his chin, and then grabbed his entire head and shook it back and forth. All while she continued to blow her whistle. In my drunken stupor I sat their amazed at the site. The beautiful girl had just pinched this dude’s nipples! I was in awe, until she came over to me and started to fill a shot glass up again. What? Me? How? What possessed her to do what I had just seen, to me?? I glanced over and there I saw her motivation, Leo sitting there with a huge smile on his face, and money in his hand. Let’s just say she did the same to me, but because I was a tourist, she gave me 4 shots. And all I can say now is Thank You. Thank You beautiful mexican women who made me swallow 4 shots in the time it takes the average person to have 1. Thank You Leo, because without you none of that would have been possible.
Time was moving, and as I sat there relishing my whole whistle girl experience, I noticed a guy was trying to talk to Iliana. I kind of laughed to myself, because he didn’t seem like he was doing too well. She looked disgusted by him, and soon I would find out why. He introduced himself, but I don’t remember his name. Big loss I know. As he moved away from Iliana I leaned over and asked if he had been hitting on her. She pretty much said yes, but she said that she knew him and that he was nasty. She said that she would never ever get with him, and by the tone of her voice I completely believed her. He just looked nasty, even in my stupor I could see that.
It was getting late, so the time to leave finally came. As we walked out the club, we stood on the corner in front the building. Iliana was talking to Leo about that the nasty guy, and as I turned toward the Malecon, I saw it once again. My blue bay. Well actually it looked black, and I could hardly see very far out because of the dark, but I could hear the waves crashing on the beach, just over the Malecon. Only about 100 feet separated from the water, so I made a break for it. I dodged a car and run up the stairs of the Malecon, down the other side onto the soft sandy beach. I stood there and watching the waves, I was just about to sit down when a hand grabbed me from behind. I turned around expecting to see a mexican cop, or a security guard to be there, with news that I couldn’t be on the beach this late, or that they had seen me drunkenly climb over the Malecon stairs. But it turned out to be much worse then that. It turned out to be Mr. Nasty Guy. He had grabbed my shoulder screaming “no! don’t jump in the water!” I grabbed his hand and through it off my shoulder, telling him in my ever sarcastic tone “I wasn’t going to jump in! I just wanted to see the ocean!” He had ruined my moment. And I was angry with him. He must have sensed it, because then he started to try make up for it. He said that if we wanted, Iliana and Myself could come over to his house. He said he had lots of different kinds of alcohol, and he said he had some good Coke. And by this he didn’t mean the Mexican Coke I had enjoyed earlier with my tacos. No this wasn’t the kind of Coke you drank, but the kind you inhaled. I turned him down and made my way back to the corner where Iliana was standing. Leo had said his goodbyes and already left, and Iliana was there wondering where I had gone. She hadn’t seen me dart across to the beach, only Mr. Nasty Guy had. So as Iliana and Myself walked back up the street he made one last attempt to get us over to his house. But she shot him and down as I laughed at him. About half way up the street we both were laughing hysterically, stumbling from the alcohol we had consumed. We finally made it back to the apartment, and after some fumbling of the keys, walked into the living room. The kids had moved slept in their mom’s room, so the living room was empty. The last thing I remember for that night is laying on the couch, with Iliana laying on the floor, and us just laughing. Laughing at Mr. Nasty Guy, laughing at my dart for the beach, laughing at anything and everything. It was a great night. Soon I was fast asleep, not even remembering how I got to my bed. I had seen Vallarta at it’s best. I had survived. Day 3 was in the books.
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