Random Notes About Me.

Totally Tess Vacation
There was a drawing for a free stay in Cabo San Lucas and our company card was pulled from the hat. We won! We left the week before Christmas. It was crazy, spontaneous, and a little out of the box for all four of us. My husband,our friends/business partners, and I were going to Mexico.

Day 1
I had never been on a "tropical" vacation before. So EVERYTHING was new. I tried to act cool going through customs, but it was painfully obvious I was white. Plus, I kept nervously clutching my purse, not sure why? Oh, and to make matters worse, my husband and I were a little out of sync. We kept bumping into each other. I swear he elbowed me while boarding the hotel shuttle bus. What the eff? Anyway, by the time we got to the resort I had already tipped the scales of sensory overload and was now in full blown mania. Worst part is that I didn't even know it. It took me a good 3 days to calm the fuck down.

Day 2
I have to admit waking up that first morning in Cabo was a little strange. No kids. I wasted a good 6 seconds lingering on this before I was instantly distracted. Enter Speedo man. My husband loves an all over tan, so he wears a Speedo. Lot's of people find this offensive. Not me. I dig the way that banana hammock fits so snugly on his body. Plus, he's a swimmer, It's legit. After a great breakfast with our friends we all headed to beach. I've never felt so American in my life. We were clearly confused on how this tropical paradise worked, so we just started helping ourselves with the beach furniture. Wrong. We didn't realize we were jeopardizing some one's livelihood, innocent mistake. Within seconds a local was running to our rescue. Then, like magic, four lounge chairs, four fluffy towels, two full umbrella's, two tables, and a bucket O'beer(plus limes) appeared all within yards of the sparkling clear blue ocean. It was 10A.M. Welcome to Cabo.

Day 3
Today we were leaving the resort and heading to downtown Cabo. We re-grouped in the lobby and waited for our taxi. Side note, Walt Disney should create a ride called Mexican Highway. It was whack. There appear to be no traffic laws, however, there is definitely a(get the hell out of the way) system in place. When we got into town we did what any good red blooded American would do, Starbucks. Caffeine was needed if we were going to take in the sites,do some shopping,and suck down a couple margaritas at lunch. Later that afternoon we hooked up with our water taxi guide, Pedro. He was going to take us to where the dolphins and whales roam free. We met him at the Marina, and the first thing he told us was to go buy beer. It's the law in Mexico. Out to sea we went gripping the partially broken railing of his rickety glass bottom boat, equip with only two orange life vests, and a twelve pack of Pacifico. It was great. He showed us all the sites, we fed cookies to exotic fish, and there was cliff jumping involved. Seriously fun. He took us further out from shore where all the big time water taxi players went. I didn't think I would actually see a whale. Then, all of a sudden the wind shifted, Pedro sniffed the air, and off we went on a two hour whale chasing adventure. It was both a thrilling and amazing, Discovery channel moment.

Dinner was an extension of our day. Food, Fun, Drink. It all caught up with me just after the plates were cleared. When we got to our room, I pretended to wash my face while I secretly laid on the bathroom tile floor, in the dark, totally naked for a few minutes(hours), it just felt natural.

Day 4
Same as day 2 plus expensive dinner(our worst meal).

Day 5
Same as day 3 minus whales & excessive consumption of Tequila.

Day 6

Same as day 2 minus our good friends(sigh), plus a serious case of the "Cabo San Dookies". All that beer & table-side guacamole was starting to take its toll on us. Banjos por favor?

Day 7
Departure day. We would be leaving the resort at Noon. We got up early to have our last Mexican feast and hit the beach one more time. We both were pretending to be happy, but in reality we were feeling a little morose. The idea of exchanging my bikini in for a puffy-coat was already sinking in, fast. We both agreed that seven days is not enough paradise time. Don't get me wrong, I did miss my kids, and was looking forward to home, but I now know that ten days is the absolute minimum stay for any tropical vacation. Adios amigos!