(no subject)
I went to Mexico a few days ago.
This hotel was like James Bond's hotel. I've never been in a place like that. Waterfalls that flow effortless into pools that melt into the sky-blue ocean. Big fuckin waves crashing down at regular intervals, to a steep beach that wasn't safe to swim in. Hot as hell.
I've never been in a place like that before. Sweaty Mexicans in white shorts pampering you at every moment. If you tried to swim in the ocean a sweaty Mexican in white shorts would come running out after you and try to talk you out of it.
A mango margarita at the absolute perfect time under the 100 degree sun by the bath-water warm pool. The ocean was also disbelieveably bath-water warm.
In my room I had a jacuzzi with ocean view, and just a dab from the little shampoo and conditioner samples made my hair more perfect than it's ever been for a week.
I was there for a wedding. The groom's family are all minor celebrities. His mother is a soap star; she told an amusing story about how since soaps are filmed 50 weeks a year plotlines are written such that characters disappear for a while for no reason other than so the actors can have a damn vacation, and told us about one subplot her character had to that end. Some other relative has a broadway show, another was talking about hit pop songs that he'd written...
The groom's father I liked immensely. He was 75 years old, and quite willing to cannon-ball into the pool with a full suit on, or shout cheerfully from his balcony across the whole hotel. When he was just a teenager he picked up his future wife who was at that time a broadway star and he something on the order of a bathroom attendant, which led him to a successful career in Hollywood. I didn't get the feeling there was a big gap between what he wanted out of life and what he got.
The groom's sister was... really damn hot. And after the ceremony she jumped in the pool with her dress on... when she came out, it left nothing to the imagination. I wanted to die.
I was interested, not only because she was hot, but because she was perhaps the only ostensibly single girl in the hotel. There were many, many other beautiful women at this place, but they were univerally very satisfied-looking trophy girlfriends. This place was, among other things, trophy girlfriend nirvana. This is where trophy girlfriends go to when they die if they've been good. This place was what you get when you are a good trophy girlfriend.
The people here were mostly these L.A. aristocrats and Texans ("Teeeksis" one girl pronounced it). It's funny, the Texan accent reminded me so much of the Australian accent quite a bit. Another thing that struck me is how much Spanish that Americans know. Everyone was ordering in Spanish. I guess that's because they're from Texas and California, where that's everywhere now. I took French and German, and what little Spanish I know I know only from a 2-week trip to Spain. Also, Mexicans seemed to in turn speak perfect English; Spanish people in Spain spoke by far the least English of anywhere I've ever been.
I went to town.... I've never been to a place where Americans like to go to party. I've been to European-type places, like, say, Mykonos, Greece. It was amazing to me because I just totally recognized the vibe instantly. I was something I had known all along but hadn't seen in the flesh before. Think of Van Halen and songs about Tequila and Jimmy Buffet's Margaritaville. It was exactly the same feel. And there was something, something really... dorky about it. Americans are dorks. Give me the tits and the liberal values. It's a much better time, you repressed bastards. I want to go to Ibiza.
After the wedding there was the after-party... the groom, who was the super-nice guy all weekend, turned into the hippie-who-is-really-a-prick. One of his friends invited some other hotel guest to the drinks after the ceremony, and he ranted about it for twenty-five minutes. He couldn't understand why his friend would bring someone into "my circle" who didn't belong there. Comma, "maaan". And he and the bride quickly fell apart into a conversation into different drugs and how great they are. How long do you think this marriage will last? Each their second marriage. Statistically, it's not going to happen.
I was really lonely. I had this big marble room all to myself and no one to share it with. The trophy girlfriends weren't going to share it with me. The groom's sister didn't seem remotely interested; when it came down to it she was another L.A. aristocrat like the rest. She was probably a minor celebrity herself in some way that I hadn't heard about yet.
On the last night, I laid in my jacuzzi for a long while, then sat on my balcony in a towel and smoked a cigarette and listened to Pink Floyd at full blast on my iPod. Anyone looks good naked in a hotel room like this.
It was not a place I ever would have gone if not for the wedding. When it was all said and done, $2000 for a four-day vacation is a bit much but I felt fucking amazing.
This hotel was like James Bond's hotel. I've never been in a place like that. Waterfalls that flow effortless into pools that melt into the sky-blue ocean. Big fuckin waves crashing down at regular intervals, to a steep beach that wasn't safe to swim in. Hot as hell.
I've never been in a place like that before. Sweaty Mexicans in white shorts pampering you at every moment. If you tried to swim in the ocean a sweaty Mexican in white shorts would come running out after you and try to talk you out of it.
A mango margarita at the absolute perfect time under the 100 degree sun by the bath-water warm pool. The ocean was also disbelieveably bath-water warm.
In my room I had a jacuzzi with ocean view, and just a dab from the little shampoo and conditioner samples made my hair more perfect than it's ever been for a week.
I was there for a wedding. The groom's family are all minor celebrities. His mother is a soap star; she told an amusing story about how since soaps are filmed 50 weeks a year plotlines are written such that characters disappear for a while for no reason other than so the actors can have a damn vacation, and told us about one subplot her character had to that end. Some other relative has a broadway show, another was talking about hit pop songs that he'd written...
The groom's father I liked immensely. He was 75 years old, and quite willing to cannon-ball into the pool with a full suit on, or shout cheerfully from his balcony across the whole hotel. When he was just a teenager he picked up his future wife who was at that time a broadway star and he something on the order of a bathroom attendant, which led him to a successful career in Hollywood. I didn't get the feeling there was a big gap between what he wanted out of life and what he got.
The groom's sister was... really damn hot. And after the ceremony she jumped in the pool with her dress on... when she came out, it left nothing to the imagination. I wanted to die.
I was interested, not only because she was hot, but because she was perhaps the only ostensibly single girl in the hotel. There were many, many other beautiful women at this place, but they were univerally very satisfied-looking trophy girlfriends. This place was, among other things, trophy girlfriend nirvana. This is where trophy girlfriends go to when they die if they've been good. This place was what you get when you are a good trophy girlfriend.
The people here were mostly these L.A. aristocrats and Texans ("Teeeksis" one girl pronounced it). It's funny, the Texan accent reminded me so much of the Australian accent quite a bit. Another thing that struck me is how much Spanish that Americans know. Everyone was ordering in Spanish. I guess that's because they're from Texas and California, where that's everywhere now. I took French and German, and what little Spanish I know I know only from a 2-week trip to Spain. Also, Mexicans seemed to in turn speak perfect English; Spanish people in Spain spoke by far the least English of anywhere I've ever been.
I went to town.... I've never been to a place where Americans like to go to party. I've been to European-type places, like, say, Mykonos, Greece. It was amazing to me because I just totally recognized the vibe instantly. I was something I had known all along but hadn't seen in the flesh before. Think of Van Halen and songs about Tequila and Jimmy Buffet's Margaritaville. It was exactly the same feel. And there was something, something really... dorky about it. Americans are dorks. Give me the tits and the liberal values. It's a much better time, you repressed bastards. I want to go to Ibiza.
After the wedding there was the after-party... the groom, who was the super-nice guy all weekend, turned into the hippie-who-is-really-a-prick. One of his friends invited some other hotel guest to the drinks after the ceremony, and he ranted about it for twenty-five minutes. He couldn't understand why his friend would bring someone into "my circle" who didn't belong there. Comma, "maaan". And he and the bride quickly fell apart into a conversation into different drugs and how great they are. How long do you think this marriage will last? Each their second marriage. Statistically, it's not going to happen.
I was really lonely. I had this big marble room all to myself and no one to share it with. The trophy girlfriends weren't going to share it with me. The groom's sister didn't seem remotely interested; when it came down to it she was another L.A. aristocrat like the rest. She was probably a minor celebrity herself in some way that I hadn't heard about yet.
On the last night, I laid in my jacuzzi for a long while, then sat on my balcony in a towel and smoked a cigarette and listened to Pink Floyd at full blast on my iPod. Anyone looks good naked in a hotel room like this.
It was not a place I ever would have gone if not for the wedding. When it was all said and done, $2000 for a four-day vacation is a bit much but I felt fucking amazing.