The highlight of San Lucas on Sunday was me haggling with a guy about his shirt prices. I don't know if I can describe it in a way to give it justice. It started out with a $20 shirt and me ending up with a shirt and a jacket for $35. I feel like I won because I received at least $10 worth of entertainment from the exchange. When I was younger I didn't like haggling. I hated it with a passion. We'd have our yearly garage sale and people would always want to haggle with me about the cost of my Matchbox Cars.
It occurs to me suddenly that the haggling may have happened on Friday. I knew I took too long to write this!
As I've gotten elderly, I have learned to appreciate the friendly art of haggling. It's downright entertaining to argue about prices. Next time you go to a flee market and you see something you really want at a good price. Argue anyway. Argue for the hell of it. See that $10 solid gold Rolex? I'll give you $5. How about $7. Soon you may spend the $10 anyway, but you'll have gotten some free haggling practice and entertainment.
On the way back to the hotel. My goal was to swim in the Pacific. Small oversight here. It has come to my attention that I haven't told anyone where it is I stayed. It was the Hotel Riu Santa Fe. A party place.
Compared to the Caribbean, the water off the Baja Peninsula is cold. The tide was fairly rough even in the "swim zones". Of course, this could have been part of my neurosis. I had to find the swim zone with the least amount of people which, coincidentally enough, is also the one with the largest swells. Anyway, I just threw caution to the wind and dove over the next big wave and into the water. That first taste of salt water down your nose and the strength of the water pulling you off the beach causes a moment of panic that is hard to describe. It's both exhilarating and terrifying. Once I got beyond the swells, I just treaded water for a bit, decided it was too cold and went back up on the beach. Mission accomplished.
Sunday was to be our last full day at the hotel so, naturally, I was in rare form. First stop was the swim up bar near our room. I asked the bartender for his "specialty". I did it jokingly, but later found out that all the bartenders make a "special". I guess the game being to go around to all the bars and ask each bartender to make you one of their specials. This particular bartender made something he called a "Mike Tyson" because it will knock you out. Watching him make it almost sent me running, but it was surprisingly tasty. And it made me talkative.
I have a problem when I go to bars. I'm normally quiet and reserved. After one or two drinks I become talkative and entertaining. This causes people around me to pressure me into drinking more. The logic being that if he's that funny with two beers imagine how funny he'll be with a shot of tequila.
We went back to the hotel, changed and decided to head out to the "evening bar". Again, since this was our last night at the hotel, we wanted to say, "Bye, eh" to all our Canadian buddies. I left out part of my story. The guy who made the Mike Tyson told us which bar he'd be working at that evening. Another reason to plan for a late night.
We saw Kevin and Steve (I mean Chuck and Larry) again. We saw Neil (I mean Syndrome) again. We saw Syndrome's wife again. Syndrome's wife had somehow found a group of friends to hang out with. I encouraged Syndrome to go get them all drunk in an effort to have group sex. Really, I was just trying to get him distracted by something else. He could be quite annoying sometimes. I think he may have been a quasi-functioning alcoholic.
Larry decided I wasn't an egotistical asshole as he originally thought and told me as much. He was very friendly and a bit too fond of hugs. He talked lovingly of Chuck and Chuck tried to feign disinterest. We told them we'd be leaving tomorrow. They told us they had their last dive tomorrow so we probably wouldn't see them again. I ordered a round of Mike Tysons. They saw how funny I was and they ordered two more rounds. If memory serves, I got sick Sunday night. Yuk.
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