Clean Slate at a New Hotel

Sonja and I are staying in a new hotel on this year's vacation in Mexico. The last one blew up before we got there. They usually wait to blow up while we are there.

This one has 24 hour access to booze. Five bars. Beer in the room fridge. 26ers hanging by the bed. Fucking Mexicans know more about the needs of a man than a thirsty whore with an IQ of 185.

New hotel means new people to interact with. We knew many of our previous hotel's guests because we were all regular customers. We knew where we would sun ourselves, which pool we were most likely to vomit in, which limb we were most likely to injure and which drug we would buy from the local dealers. Most people go for the weed, blow or pills. I am a peyote man. I am very health conscious that way.

Going to Mexico and not having visions is like voting for politicians and not getting screwed. Support your Mexican peyote farmer.

Our new hotel is more international than our previous one. It is like living in Dope City, if Dope City had more French fuckers in it. Our last hotel would not serve me beer with breakfast, had to bring down my own from the room fridge. Room fridges come stocked with beer and pop. First thing you have to do is pack up the pop, find a skinny Mexican kid to give the useless shit to and replace it with beer. Pop is for motherfucking pussies who like their teeth rotten. This hotel brought me two beers when I asked for them this morning. Beer, eggs and beans. Life in Mexico is simple. No one else was drinking beer with their breakfast. Motherfuckers think they are civilized or some shit. All take pills in the morning is what I think.

First few days Sonja and I will drink our faces off by the ocean, by the pool, in the spunky swirlpool. When we start to come undone, or I get my first warnings from the hotel staff to not be quite so shitfaced, we will head out on some excursions, see old Mexico and piss on it like dogs.