First of all, there is obviously no link between supporting one’s students and an ability to drive a car while intoxicated, and secondly, not now, or at any point in my life, did I ever have any students.

So there I am, lying in bed, existing in a world that I cannot describe, nor expect you to comprehend, when I am attacked by arm flailing, leg kicking, obscenity screaming ball of fury, known only to you, as her. Before I am able to comprehend what is occurring, in the hurricane of noise, screaming and spite she manages to formulate a sentence,

“I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU LEFT ME!!!! YOU (Insert your favorite obscenities here.) IT’S ALL YOUR FAULT!!! IT’S YOUR FAULT THAT I WAS ATTACKED!! IT’S YOUR FAULT THAT I WAS ROBBED!! I HATE YOU I HATE YOU I HATE YOU!!”

Believe me, if there was a setting on your alarm clock that said crazy psychotic banshee whore, you probably would go for clock radio.

I woke up several hours later, feeling much more refreshed, coherent, and really feeling like it was going to be a great day. I glanced over at the night stand to see the time, and noticed a note written on a birthday card she had given me in the days prior.

“I HOPE YOU DON’T PLAN ON LEAVING MEXICO YOU MOTHER FUCKER. YOU’RE A PIECE OF SHIT. I HOPE YOU’RE STUCK HERE FOREVER AND DIE.”

It’s safe to say that the words on the other side of the card were a bit more friendly. I began to piece the night back together, specifically the banshee wake up call between the hours of 4-6 in the morning, and found myself torn in believing anything she had claimed. I knew this girl pretty well. We unfortunately had dated almost two years, and it wasn’t far fetched to consider that she would make these things up so I would feel terrible for “leaving” her. In my perplexed state, I got to my feet, and rid myself of the previous night’s waste. On my way out of the bathroom I noticed the door to the safe was open. You see, when traveling to a foreign country it is a good idea to put your valuables and most especially your passport into the safe. That is when it registered.

“I HOPE YOU DON’T PLAN ON LEAVING MEXICO.”

Fuck.

The safe was empty. My wallet, my phone, and last but not least, mi pasaporte.

Rewind.

In the 45 minutes I invested in anal burrito prevention, i.e. my run in with assault rifles and bribe schmoozing federals, she set out to find me. Before I get any further I must let it be known that this portion of the story is pieced together through her accounts, but with all things considered, I believe it is true. She found the group of people that we had shared a cab with, and asked if any of them had seen me. One of the gentleman (and I use the term only to suggest hypothetical irony) claimed he had seen me down on the beach. If to this point I haven’t made it abundantly clear that she is lacking intelligence, she trusted him and walked with him away from the night club full of people, to the beach, site of few. Who came blame her for trusting him? After all, we had met them earlier the day before. Take a guess what happens next. Wasted guy (stranger) accompanying drunk and naive girl to a dark an empty beach. He tried to hook up with her, kiss her, the usual feel around, before she was able to peace out of that situation and scamper away distraught into the night.

Moments later, again to her recollection, she was confronted by three Mexicans that were looking for a good time. They surrounded her, got her in face, and proceeded to harass her in a fashion not all too different than her previous suitor. She fought them off with her purse, and alas wised up and sprinted back to the night club avoiding further harassment. Unfortunately her return did not include a purse, which I imagine was the end goal for the Mexicans on the beach, otherwise it is unlikely little ole 5′2″ (her) could have realistically escaped without harm. The contents of the purse included her wallet, but in significance to this story her digital camera, containing my memory card serving solely as an added kick in the ass when later realized.

Fast Forward.

There I was. No wallet, no access to still limited funds or identification, no passport, no cell phone, and one ex girlfriend fueled by the fury of Satan himself. While many would have panicked in this situation, I allowed my self to take a breath, consider my enemy, remember the following things: I had cash in my board shorts, I was in Acapulco on spring break, most importantly I had been preparing for this shit storm of a situation for months, and couldn’t be entirely surprised. Confident that her note was merely a threat, one she had no intention or capability of carrying out, I dressed myself, walked downstairs ready for a fantastic day in the sun.

I treated myself to my usual Mexican Breakfast: two shots of tequila, a margarita, and two tecates for sustenance, and settled in to the shallow laying pool for the next several hours. My surrounding areas filled in over the next several hours, predominately with guests sporting their all-inclusive wristbands. With a depleted cash flow after a delicious Mexican breakfast, no means of replenishing it due to a lacking wallet, I did what any good man would do: made friends with the all-inclusive guests. I found a large group was from Wilmington, North Carolina, a very young and upcoming beach town near the South Carolina border. Naturally we discussed my current situation due to the previous evening’s events, which all played well with the pity card, meaning free drinks and even some grub. Very soon we were all having a great time, playing volleyball in the pool, on the beach, all the while the hotel activities man doused us with a tequila mixture that served as our hydration. I was in heaven, recently single, south of the border both physically and metaphorically in my then current wasted state.

While swimming in the ocean with a nice and pretty girl, to whom I’d recently explained my situation, I was rudely interrupted/confronted by the she-devil known as her. She wanted to know if I wanted to talk about what happened, so I asked where she stayed last night. Although at that point I cared very little about her or where she had spent the night, it is still the curiosity and perhaps vanity of man that seeks to know such things as, “was he better/bigger than me?” She responded to my question with a reply of similar fury that I had been woken up with earlier that morning. My response, “Nah I think I’ll pass on the talking.” She stormed off and I continued to chill, drink in hand, enjoying my company and the warm Pacific.

Later that night I made plans with the group I met at the pool to go out to a club called The Palladium. I’ve been told it’s one of the top 10 night clubs in the world, and after going there, I wouldn’t exactly argue. It is about a 20 minute cab ride from the hotel we were staying it. It rests high in the mountains looking out over the beautiful Acapulco Bay.

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