12 December 2010


Sitting around the pool in Mexico getting gassed every day for two weeks is not easy to do unless you are from Ontario. (I am not kidding about those fuckers. If they were from anywhere else they would drink themselves to death or hurl themself off a balcony and you might hear about it. They are the Gretzky cats of the booze hound crowd - they have 99 lives.) Eventually you have to leave the great big titty of booze at the hotel and head out on an excursion.

That means getting up early, having a couple, leaving the tipsy safety of the hotel and visiting real Mexico. Our driver, a leadfoot cutie, and guide, a young man studying to become an archaeology professor, picked us up at the appointed time in a big van. Along the way to our destination we picked up fellow travellers from Saltspring Island (lesbians), Philadelphia (freethinkers) and motherfucking Alberta (dumb fucks). I guess if I ever want to go on a holiday without lesbians, Americans and dumb fucks from Alberta I will have to go on holiday to Uranus.

We had to make our way through several checkpoints on the way to our destination. There are motherfucking pigs with motherfucking machine guns everywhere because of all the environmental bullshit going on in Cancun. (The only government making any sense there at all is the government of Bolivia who are calling what is going on in Cancun just what it is - total fucking bullshit. I think I need a coca fuelled holiday in that country.)

Before we got to where we all really wanted go we had to make a few other visits first. Went zip-lining over a crocodile pit (who thinks up this adventurist shit?); went canoeing in an alligator pit (we were assured the sleepy reptiles were all well fed with visiting Texans); and spelunking in one of the many caves in the region. We were also provided a delicious and healthy Mayan lunch. No booze though - I would have never made it through the day without the flasks I had filled up back at the hotel.

After all that shit-scare adventure we finally made it to Coba, home of some ancient Mayan ruins so big they make Stonehenge look small. About a thousand years old, the big organized piles of rock sure do give you something just about all of us on this planet are short of: perspective. Most everybody climbed to the top of the biggest ruin. I was too loaded for that. I contented myself with making it halfway up from where all you can see is jungle as far as the eye can see. Looking out on all that reptile green made me wonder how people ever survived to choke the planet like we do today.

The other thing Coba made me think of is the crazy shit people will do in the name of religion. All that back-breaking rock piled up as high as humans will ever make it to Heaven.

Just like everybody learns if they get a chance to travel around a little, we are all lunatics on the grass. Some asshole with a stick says, "Pile fucking rocks," and people say, "How fucking high?"


uniplmr1 said...

You could have jungle tours with booze and write about that. Maybe get some hockey going down there, see if they like it. They already like beer, I know they do. Peyote fueled jungle tours for drunk hockey fans. You can't miss.

Mr. Beer N. Hockey said...

Tripping on peyote when you see the Coba ruins, which I mistakenly chose not to do on account of I knew I would have to be zip-lining over a crocodile filled lake, would have been quite the trip into the dark night of the Mayan soul.

The jungles used to be filled with touring drunken hockey fans ripped on peyote - it was called pre-civilization.