TDL’s Sports, Wrestling, & Otherwise

I like to gamble. Unfortunately, New York State has decided (for my own good, of course) that gambling shouldn’t be legal in this state……… unless of course I gamble on horses and the New York Racing Association (NYRA) is the bookie. Remember kids: gambling is only bad if you do it with Italians.

The Saratoga Flat Track opened in 1863 and opened for its 140th meet this past Wednesday. I enjoy the day at the track. I don’t care much about the horses, really, but it’s a pretty cool day to go and hang out with friends and skip out of a work day. The grounds are huge, full of different types of food and picnic tables where groups can set up. It’s also one of the few places left in the state where you can bring your own food and alcohol.

Since I had plans to be upstate this weekend for a wedding so convincing myself to go up a couple days early for a track trip was easier than selling a trade to the Pirates. In fact, the hardest part was convincing myself to crawl out of bed at 7 am to catch the one daily train that goes from NYC to Saratoga.

The weather, unfortunately, didn’t co-operate and we ended up huddled under the grandstand for most of the day. The gambling did not go well. We had a semi-successful Show Pool. For the uninitiated, the show pool works as follows: at the beginning of the day, however many people throw in $2. That money goes on a horse to show. A show bet means if the horse comes in first, second, or third, you win. If you win that race, you let it ride on the next race and so on all day. If you win all ten races (or just can’t bear it anymore) you cash out. On Wednesday, we’d made it to the 8th race and put $660 on one horse to show. It didn’t come in… but at the end of the day you get a lot of excitement out of two dollars. I took my annual soaking but the track helps to keep my property taxes in Saratoga County nice and low so I feel it’s only fair that I lose some money every summer.

When I go to the Spa, I try to handicap horses… I look at training times, jockeys, and previous finishes. I use that to create a group who I think has a shot and bet like that. I take my soaking. Occasionally, I discover how stupid that is.

Example, after taking my Wednesday medicine, I checked Friday’s program. In the fourth race there was a horse named Beer Pong. There was no way I wasn’t betting on this horse. Since I was working in Albany, I went over to the Albany OTB. OTB, if you’ve never been there, is an interesting place — it’s a wretched hive of scum and villainy — and there’s one in every town!! On the program, I saw a horse named Midtown Bullet. I hate Midtown Manhattan and it makes me want to shoot myself. It worked so I bet $5 to win (comes in 1st), place (comes in 1st or 2nd), and show on Beer Pong, and put an $2 exacta (pick the horses that will come in first and second) on Midtown Bullet and Beer Pong. Naturally, after getting killed trying to handicap on Wednesday, I hit a $110 exacta and a $30 WPS bet picking two horses by name.

The lesson, of course, was learned when a local radio station used to have a newspaper handicapper pick horses against a monkey. Betting on horses is stupid.

It’s good to know that my luck when it comes to selecting a seat also extends on to the Chinatown bus.

Do you know what’s worse than loud-cell-phone-guy on the train? Loud everyone-needs-to-hear-our-conversation couple. I knew that somewhere out there was the soulmate of loud-cell-phone guy. Now I have seen it with my own eyes.

Also, the bus stopped at a Burger King somewhere in Connecticut. I was in line behind a guy who had never been in a BK before. He asked the cashier “what’s the size difference between a Whopper and a regular burger?”

I’ve added a new type of person who needs to be erased from the planet. Two, maybe. The first is “guy who is old enough to drive who hasn’t been to BK.”. The second is “guy who discusses portion size with the cashier to try and get maximum value for his dollar at BK when there are a bus full of people in line.”. Perchance he could ask for a sample, too.

Tuesday, November 20 2007

8:00 am: We’re off. After the absolute drenching we got on the ferry, pretty much all our clothes are hanging over anything available in an attempt to dry them off. It didn’t work. We pack up our wet clothes in our suitcases and get ready.

9:00 am: We head to the airport. Our flight out is at 12:40pm. Way too much time.

9:15 am: We get to the airport. After finding the JetBlue check-in line, there are exactly 3 people ahead of our group.

9:40 am: We get to the security line. There are two people ahead of us.

9:45 am: Time to kill. I take a moment to bask in my rightness… then I realize that I have 179 more minutes of rightness to bask in.

10:00 am: There’s a Burger King at the airport. Fun Lost In Translation of the weekend. The cashier says: “Would you like apple OR pumpkin pie with that.” instead of “Would you like an apple or pumpkin pie with THAT?”. I say apple, assuming in an odd south of the border twist that they were included with breakfast. In fact, they were not and her statement was actually a question. In other news, the apple pie was delicious.

10:30 am: Breakfast is done. Only two hours and ten minutes left. It’s a burden being right all the time.

11:30 am: ugh.

12:30 pm: I’m bored enough that I take out my Blackberry to check my work e-mail. Kids… I’m bored.

12:40 pm: We board the flight… fuggin finally… and we are the only plane taking off that HOUR.

5:15 pm EDT: Land.

5:30 pm: We are now aimlessly wandering JFK looking for the rental car station. Little did we know that we had to take the AirTrain a few stations. Fun story… we weren’t able to find a rental car anywhere in the city being the day before the big Thanksgiving Exodus. However, Ms. L has the ability to get a car through her company and one of the car rental companies is apparently required to find one for her. So, we got a car. As we were in line for our last minute car, no less than 3 guys came in asking for cars. They got shot down. I giggled.

5:35 pm: A white PT Cruiser… cute.

6:00 pm: I discover that the bridge to Staten Island costs $9.00. Nine friggin dollars to go over a bridge. Amazing.

6:45 pm: Ah Manhattan during rush hour… where 20 miles takes more than an hour.

6:50 pm: The original plan was just to go upstairs, repack the luggage, get the cat, and take off. Due to the fact that everything in the luggage was still wet. Instead, it turned into go upstairs, pack new bags, get the cat and go off.

7:15 pm: The cost for parking in Battery Park City for 22 minutes: $16. I love this town.

7:45 pm: We pick up our passenger… one of Ms. L’s other co-workers who is splitting the car with us to drive her home.

7:50 pm: Two girls who haven’t seen each other in 6 days can really talk.

8:15 pm: and talk.

8:40 pm: and talk.

9:00 pm: and talk.

10:15 pm: Passenger dropped off. My ears are ringing.

10:30 pm: After 5 hours of flying and now 5 hours of driving, I’m fading fast. Ms. L uses this opportunity to put on Christmas Music… because that will keep me from driving the car off the Thruway.

11:45 pm: FINALLY at my parent’s house. We’re picking up bedding and an air mattress to bring down to my townhouse since all that’s in there now is the mish-mash of mismatched furniture that tends to collect in an apartment no one’s really in. Fun story, I’m currently fending off a full bedroom set for the extra bedroom.

12:00 am: I drop off Ms. L and the cat. Since no trip upstate is complete without an absurd hour trip to the super market, I go to Price Chopper for cat food.

12:15 am: I once again amaze myself at the absurdly cheap prices in upstate super markets as I get my normally $5 cat food for $3.50.

12:30 am: Back to my place… unload all the suitcases and start separating laundry into the “moderately wet and dirty” and “really wet and dirty”.

12:45 am: Shower… it’s a Top 5 shower*

1:00 am: I start setting up the air mattress for Ms. L. I take out the air pump… and it’s got no cord. Only batteries. I actually stared at the box for 10 minutes, praying it was lying to me.

1:10 am: Back to the super market. I’ve never been so dejected.

1:30 am: Finally bed.

I consider this the end of my “vacation.” The rest of this was basically your standard “home to see the fam” weekend. Was a good time.

* A Top 5 shower goes back to a trip to Montreal I had in college. It was one of those stupid “Let’s go to Montreal” trips where you have nothing planned, but just pile in the car and take the 2 hour drive. We left on Saturday at like 10 am, bar crawled for most of the day and night, went back and slept about 8 people to a single hotel room, and drove back on Sunday. The shower that I took that night, after a day full of travel and drinking filth felt better than any shower I’d ever taken until that point… it was amazing. This came up in conversation and someone agreed with me and said it was one of the Top 5 showers he’d ever taken. Since then, those kind of showers have come to be called Top 5 Showers.

Monday, November 19th, 2007

There’s no good reason to do a diary of this day, basically because nothing interesting happened. We took the 11 am Ferry of Doom (everyone did, actually… the rest of our party who wanted to take the 8 am ferry backed out when it was pouring rain) in the rain which soaked all of us and every stitch of my luggage. The ferry ride back was relatively calm, even with the pouring rain. For future reference: Rain != wind. We followed with yet another cab ride to Cancun this one was only $90 for 7 people instead of $225 for 9 people… and they say travel agents are worth it.

We got to Cancun at about one in the afternoon and checked in to the well-known Mexican hotel chain “Mariott”. Ms. L and I bailed on the rest of the party and pretty much spent the day together. It was actually somewhat disappointing how much like the US Cancun really is. In Cozumel I could at least tell we were in another country. In Cancun I stayed in a Mariott and took a cab to the Mall. On the way to the Mall we passed a second mall which featured Prada, Louie Vitton, and other high end stores. The mall (mall isn’t exactly fair… all the stores weren’t connected indoors. It was a mall if the hallways between the stores were outside) we actually went to was full of Gap and such and we could have grabbed a great Mexican lunch at Chili’s. As it was, we stopped at what seemed to be the only Mexican restaurant in the place and were served to what was obviously chain food. The only benefit to the place is that the seats were right on the boardwalk. In other news, there was a boardwalk. Going back, Ms. L would not take the Cancun Drunk Bus… which is just buses that run and up and down the main drag and only cost 6.5 pesos (about 60 cents) and instead elected to make me take a cab in both directions… about $10. In an amusing turn of events, the girl who rides the New York City subway alone at all hours of the day is scared of a bus full of tourists in broad daylight. Go figure.

We went back to the hotel around 4pm and our traveling party had headed into town to do a bar crawl. When I first discovered this, I was annoyed. When I later discovered that they went to five different bars and took a cab to each one, I was less annoyed. Please note: all of my traveling party lives in New York City and takes public transit on a daily basis. The buses are basically MTA buses… and I’m the only one willing to take the Bus that costs pocket change.

Instead, Ms. L and I kind of relaxed on our balcony. We took a quick dip in the pool just to say we did it and then went to a pretty good dinner at a place called the Crab Shack across from the hotel. Afterward, we retired onto our balcony with some Coors Light (yes, Coors Light… Ms. L drinks nothing but Corona and Coors Light and, believe it or not, the random store across the street had no Corona) and listened to the water. It was a nice night.

Of course, we later discovered that our travel group had spent about 500 pesos ($50) on cabs to go to between four or five bars and then came back to the hotel and ordered in a very Mexican meal of Domino’s pizza. Then the obvious debate of “what time to go to the airport” comes up. I realize that we’re flying out of a tourist destination on a Tuesday and likely will be the only outgoing people in the entire airport. I’m over-ruled and we decide to give ourselves the full three hours.

I spent the tail end of the last night, as I usually do on a vacation, sitting by myself. Ms. L had decided to head to bed to give herself enough time to get up and get some coffee in the morning. I decided to spend the last hour out on the balcony listening to the waves come in. There was a full moon, making the water and sand weirdly bright. If anything, it made me realize how much I miss my old apartment and the nice view of the water it had. Being in Mexico that time a year almost made me forget how BRUTAL the weather was in late August.

All in all, I had a great time and I’m glad some guy I met twice decided to invite me to his wedding.

Tomorrow: the longest day of my life.

I’ve never snorkled. There’s a few reasons for this. 1) I’m not a huge beach guy, so my vacations don’t usually take me to places where snorkling is available. 2) When I do go to locations where snorkling is available, getting up at some ungodly hour to pay some shady individual some absurd number of pesos to take me on a boat and shove me in the water so I can look at coral isn’t my idea of relaxing and 3) I’m not hugely into any trips that involve me getting up at 7 am when I’m ostensibly on vacation.

Little known fact about TDL: his perfect vacation involves the following: Get up between 8:30 and 9:00 am, have a huge greasy breakfast, spend about 4 hours under an umbrella on a beach not too far from a waiter who will notice when my drink is empty, go in to lunch, spend another couple hours re-performing step 2, nap, shower, dinner, drinking. Repeat. I don’t like sitting near pools (I can do that here) and I don’t like sitting out in the blazing sun and sweating. Gimme a beach chair under an umbrella and I’m a happy guy.

That said: I’m perfectly willing to go snorkling when it’s 1) at 11 am, 2) has open bar, and 3) free. The bride and groom, as a thank you for everyone who traveled out of the country for their wedding forwent (is that a word) the traditional after-wedding brunch for a snorkling cruise.

Sunday, November 18th 2007

9:00 am: Lovely, included breakfast. Same stuff as yesterday but I opt for pancakes and scrambled eggs with sausage and cheddar. Open Breakfast is possibly the greatest thing ever.

10:30 am: After a tough mid-morning of retiring to my room to drink coffee and read on my balcony, we head out to grab a cab to the ferry pier.

10:55 am: I am thrilled to see our new boat has two things to float on. I desperately hope this will not lead to another episode of ferry from hell.

11:15 am: We are staying close to the shore, which is good. We get a speech before another episode of iPod DJ begins. The beer of choice for this trip is Bohemia and the guide informs us they have 48 cases on board……. for 32 people. In addition there are Margaritas, soda, and water. He lets us know that they usually don’t open the bar until after the snorkeling, but then he remembers we’re in Mexico and there are no laws or safety regulations.

11:20 am: As we go along the shoreline of Cozumel, it strikes me again how little of this part of Mexico is undeveloped. When we went to Cancun a few years back, we went to visit the ruins at Chichen Itza. It was about an hour bus ride out the island and the highway we were on was literally cut through the middle of a jungle. There was nothing else but this road. Going along the shore-line of Cozumel it’s basically resort followed by vast amounts of scrubland followed by a couple of houses, followed by scrubland, followed by a resort. I mean look at it.

12:00 pm: Four beers deep, we get to the first snorkeling location. I get myself a mask, lifejacket, and snorkel and take my shirt off, unleashing the pasty awesome.

12:30 pm: I go in the water and put the mask on. There’s fish and rocks. I’m somewhat unmoved. One cool thing, there are fish kind of swimming around near the group near the surface. I stare one down and swims away. That’s right, lil bitch.

12:45 pm: Back on the boat.

1:30 pm: We get to the second location. Pretty much the same as the first location. I do, however, remember that I put no sunscreen on my back. It’s going to get ugly.

2:00 pm: We’re back on the boat heading toward a random beach bar that’s apparently associated with the guys who run the boat.

3:00 pm: They run the boat basically up the beach and everyone gets off. We have about an hour to get lunch, more beer, and then use the amenities at the private beach.

3:30 pm: I find a hammock.

4:15 pm: back on the boat.

5:00 pm: And back to the mainland with no major injuries. My travel group makes plans to go back home, shower up, and head back into town for dinner. At this point, we are all ungodly sick of the hotel menu.

5:05 pm: I interpret shower as “nap.”

7:00 pm: Ms. L and I go downstairs to the bar. There are already a couple of folks there watching the Sunday Night Football Game.

7:45 pm: The Patriots score a third touchdown five seconds into the 2nd quarter. I inform one of Ms. L’s Bills fan co-workers that holding the Pats to only 2 TDs in the first quarter was kinda like a moral victory.

8:15 pm: We head out to dinner. When we get out of the cab, I realize that I still haven’t gotten any cash.

8:30 pm: Ms. L and I head into the town. There is some kind of festival going on. I’m not really sure what they’re celebrating but we are one of like 10 tourists walking around the festival. There’s music and random dancing going on. There’s also random food carts around the festival. It occurs to me that I really don’t need a sit-down dinner. I would be more than happy to wander around this festival and sample random carts of goodness, but Ms. L is not as adventurous. Instead, we turn into “white people looking for a bank” which, really, could have been the start of a good horror movie.

8:45 pm: I find an HSBC. I have a moment where it starts conversing with me in Spanish. Being from New York City, I call this “Tuesday.” I ask for pesos and get yelled at with “what are you going to do with those?” I dunno… I”m in Mexico. Spend them?

8:50 pm: We walk back through the festival around the other way. I’ve marked about 12 carts that I would much rather go to than to a sit down dinner. You have to remember: I eat out of random food carts about 3 days a week… whether it be lamb and chicken over rice, a burger, steak, dirty water dogs, or pizza. If you had to ask me what the perfect way to sample the local fare would be, I’d answer you that it’d be going around to a bunch of taco carts and chowing down.

9:00 pm: Sadly, we go back to the restaurant: Pancho’s Backyard. The building was built in the 1600s and the steak was delicious. I also finished off two frozen margaritas and only one was necessary. I should have gotten Mahi-Mahi but chickened out. The inside of the restaurant was beautiful, including a small indoor pond complete with waterfalls and fish.

10:30 pm: We head back to the hotel. We then get into an argument with other traveling companions about when to head back to Cancun tomorrow. They want to take a 8 am Ferry of Doom. I’d prefer to take an 11 am Ferry of Doom. We settle on meeting the two 7 am-ers in Cancun around noon.

Tomorrow: To Cancun we go.

Saturday November 17, 2007

8:45 am: The day dawns voluntarily early when you pass out dead asleep before midnight.

9:00 am: We make our way down to the “Included breakfast buffet”. The spread is nice including an egg, pancake, and French toast station. There are various and sundry different types of Mexican breakfast treats. I stick with all you can eat bacon because, let’s be honest, where do you go wrong with all you can eat bacon?

9:15 am: Various members of our traveling party are making their way down to breakfast looking none the worse for wear. The human body can be amazingly recuperative when there’s drinking to be done.

10:30 am: I head back up to my room to switch into my bathing suit and lather my pasty whiteness with SPF 30… which turns out to not mean much because I find a delightful little place under a giant tiki umbrella. Me and Harry Potter get down to business.

OK, so yes, I’m in the middle of reading Harry Potter. I just finished book five. I started reading this because I figured it was time to see what all the hype was about… and considering my love of all things fantasy, it was time. Early reviews: a pretty decently layered story that is an easy read and obviously written for people a lot younger than me. Fun story, the first three books are relatively small. 300ish pages. Since I was going to be in Mexico for a week, I decided I should probably bring two with me. I walked in to the library to discover that book four was 750 pages long and book five was 850 pages long. I was surprised they didn’t force me to check the weapons at customs.

11:05 am: It’s noon in my time zone. Sol time.

11:06 am: My favorite thing about Cozumel. “Room 206, keep it open.” Double bonus: the room’s on the girl’s card.

11:45 am: One of the random waiter/busboys/bartenders come over to me to fetch my empty and bring me a new one. Good Lord, I could die here.

12:00 pm: Time to jump in the ocean… just cuz. Fun sub-plot of this jump into the ocean: I forgot to take Ms. L’s cell phone out of my bathing suit pocket… which has turned my Blackberry into the Ms. L sister conference center.

2:00 pm: The wedding is at 4 pm, so obviously it’s time to start getting ready.

2:05 pm: Ms. L starts getting ready.

3:50 pm: I start getting ready.

4:00 pm: The groom’s got on a cotton suit and a pair of flip-flops… points for style. In “firsts at a ceremony”, this wedding gets props as “first wedding on a beach near sunset” and “first wedding with open containers amongst the gallery”.

4:30 pm: Ceremony over. Not the most efficient ever, but it will do.

4:35 pm: It doesn’t take long to get to cocktail hour since the altar was set up right next to the tiki bar.

6:00 pm: The reception kicks off.

6:05 pm: The tequila shots start. Gonna be a long night.

For the sake of “What happens in Mexico stays in Mexico”, the events of the next five hours will be redacted for the protection of all involved. Suffice it to say a full moon has never looked quite so bright as it is reflected off the ocean and white sand. Suffice it also to say there was more than enough white-guy shuffle going on. Although, props to the one guy whose name I already forgot who, disturbingly, knew all the choreography to Beat It.

Coming up tomorrow: The Snorkling Booze Cruise

While I usually consider destination weddings to be a bit of a pain the balls, when Ms. L got the invitation for this one, a perfect storm of events had occurred:

1) We haven’t really been on a vacation since before we moved to New York two (!) years ago.
2) It’s the beginning of the “f*ck, it’s cold” season in the Northeast.
3) Her busy season is going to be starting again in five weeks and I’d like to spend a little time with her before my only girlfriend becomes Netflix for four months.
4) It preceded Thanksgiving week, so we were going to be doing some traveling anyway.

I had actually planned to sleep before the trip this time… I started this habit on my Spring Break trips. I figured that if I’m going to be getting up at 4 am anyway, what’s the point of actually going to sleep? This time, I thought I’d sleep but Ms. L blew that up with “I think I’m going to pack late and just take a nap.” Well, me too, I guess.

Friday, 11/16/2007

2 am: I almost make it, but I’m wiped. Ms. L’s packing in the bedroom so I put my feet up and sleep in the chair. I set the Blackberry for 3:45 am. I figure if I sleep in the chair it will be more a nap than anything else.

4:15 am: Jesus. Fortunately, I’m too tired to be tired and I sleep like no one’s business on a plane. I just need to be awake enough to carry Ms. L’s 9,000 lbs of luggage.

5:00 am: For the first time, I’m trying to hail a cab going AWAY from home at 5 am. It’s a whole different world. I’m as amazed this time around as I was the last time I caught a cab to a New York airport at an ungodly hour that there is already a healthy amount of traffic coming into the city.

5:45 am: Yes, it can take you 45 minutes to go 20 miles of expressway at 5 in the morning. Who loves New York?

6:00 am: I love JFK. There’s about 12 miles of rat maze to get up to the check-in counter (no online check-in on international flights, much to my dismay) and there are five people at the front of the rat maze.

6:15 am: Once again, I find it necessary to give New York airports credit. The passengers don’t have to be told what to do. Everyone has hats, jackets, and shoes off and in a bucket when going through security. Laptops are separated without prompting. All in all, it remains the easiest check-in process in the world. Of course, you might not be leaving until 3 hours after you’re supposed to, but getting in the door: like a well-oiled machine.

6:30 am: I find the Dunkin Donuts kiosk. I debate for a moment whether or not I want coffee because I’m relatively certain I don’t want anything to interfere with my blessed altitude-induced coma. I decide that I still have two friggin hours and if I’m going to stand in line for a sandwich, I’m sure as hell going to get a coffee, too.

6:31 am: For the first time, I notice that I have yet to see a Starbucks in an airport. I then realize my airport collection is not that extensive.

6:40 am: We find the collection of accountants huddled around the JetBlue wireless location. I should have realized. Surprisingly, only 2 laptops… one will come in handy later.

7:00 am: The group (now grown to 9, Me, Ms. L, 5 NYC co-workers including one who went to college with Ms. L, 1 Long Island co-worker, and 2 husbands) goes off to find some breakfast.

7:30 am: Boarding.

8:15 am: Bless my soul, we’re only getting off the ground 15 minutes late.

8:20 am: I know JetBlue’s had some hardcore PR issues in the last year, but I still can’t hate on any company that gives me TV, XM Radio, all I can drink coffee, and all I can eat cookies.

8:30 am: All of which doesn’t matter because I’m out already.

9:45 am: I come to enough to ask for a coffee and am out again before it comes.

10:15 am: Ms. L pokes me and asks me if her co-worker can have my coffee if I’m not going to drink it. I grunt, which she takes as yes, and yoinks my coffee.

10:45 am: I come to again and notice my coffee is gone. I gamely try to read a bit of my book (currently: Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix) before going out again.

10:45 am (Central Time): I wake up in time for final approach and discover that the flight is landing a half-hour early. First time ever.

11:00 am: Last time I landed in Cancun it was a Saturday afternoon and customs was packed. Today I land and our flight is the only one coming in. This has been the smoothest travel day in the history of travel days (dun dun dunnnnn).

11:05 am: I get flagged for a search. Fortunately, the closest thing I have to contraband is a book meant for 12-year-olds.

11:25 am: We finally get outside the airport. The second we step outside they have a “welcome bar” in the spot where you wait for a cab. We immediately buy two six packs of Corona. Fun side note: last time I went to Mexico in 2003 I stayed at your standard all-inclusive resort. The all-inclusive beer of choice was Corona. I drank so much Corona that week that I have not actually drank a Corona in four years. This is the first Corona I’ve had since last time I was in Mexico. I determined that I now only drink domestic Corona.

11:36 am: Corona: no sir, not over it yet.

11:37 am: Being as my Mexican geography isn’t really up to snuff, I really didn’t know what we were going to be doing to get between Cozumel and Cancun. I just knew that my job was to get 2 plane tickets on certain days. The rest of the arrangements were being handled via other people in our group. This travel agent was supposed to book us a cab from Cancun airport to Playa Del Carmen ($25 per person… for a total of $225 for the cab), where we would catch a ferry from Playa Del Carmen to Cozumel ($10 pp). I ask Ms. L why we did this instead of flying directly into Cozumel. I’m told this is far cheaper.

11:45 am: The cab company asks the girl who made all the arrangements for her travel voucher. She does not have her travel voucher because her travel agent insisted she didn’t need one. The cab company insists she does. Fortunately, she was one of the two people to bring her laptop and she brings up the information from the cab company that says she does not, in fact, need a voucher. I’ve already housed my Corona to get rid of it as quickly as possible.

12:05 pm: We’re on the road… the car is somewhat rowdy.

12:35 pm: Still on the road. The Corona buzz has worn off and people are realizing they’ve been up since 4:30 am. We try to get the cabbie to stop off at a random Bodega on the side of the Mexican highway to get a 12-pack to keep up the buzz. He won’t let us. I hate him.

12:40 pm: Traffic? In Mexico? They have traffic in Mexico?

12:42 pm: I discover my Blackberry works in Mexico. I am far too excited by this. I immediately start e-mailing co-workers to ask them how their days are going.

1:30 pm: We arrive in Playa Del Carmen. We don’t know where we’re going but we know we need to find the ferry pier. I spot an ATM but decide to wait till I get to the hotel. After all, a hotel will have an ATM right?

1:40 pm: We find the ferry, the next one leaves at 2. The girls discover restrooms. I discover a Senor Frog’s, which makes me smile. I went to the Cancun version of this place last time I was here.

2:00 pm: We start loading on to the ferry. Some people coming off the ferry do not look well. They look downright… ill. I’m not put off by this because I’ve never really had a problem with seasickness.

2:10 pm: The ferry ride is kind of rough. It’s also encased in plastic, not air-conditioned, and really not comfortable. Still thinking it will either get better or that it won’t bother me, I order a Sol. It’s not Corona, so it’s OK.

2:15 pm: I’ve taken one sip out of my beer. The ferry is lurching to each side, then violently jerking back the other way. As the first victim runs for the bathroom, the Mariachi band starts playing. Yes… really.

2:30 pm: Ms. L has stopped moving. Most people on board have started going for puke bags. I’m sitting as still as I possibly can, holding a bottle of Sol in a death grip focusing on my insides. If you’ve ever seen From Dusk Till Dawn, the phrase “Now let’s go kill that f*cking band” went through my mind roughly 11,000 times. I can’t really put in to words how awful I’m feeling at this point. I’ve broken into a cold sweat, I’m squeezing a bottle so hard I feel like it might pop in my hands, two of the people in our group are joking and telling stories about awful boat rides in their past, people are getting sick all around me, I’m getting splashed occasionally with cold water as gigantic waves crash against the hull, and there’s cheerful f*cking Mariachi music playing next to my head with guys who couldn’t be happier to be there. I’m really hoping my bottle shatters so I can cut someone’s throat.

2:35 pm: Ms. L has given up and gone inside the cabin where it’s apparently air conditioned. I’m terrified to to move. People are literally being thrown from one side of the ferry to the other. The workers are attempting to get people into the bathroom, but they’re being tossed back and forth as well.

2:40 pm: Sweet jesus, I see land.

2:45 pm: The band is walking around looking for tips. It takes everything I have to not throw my still-full beer bottle at him.

2:50 pm: Land… sweet god, I’ve never been happier to get off a boat. I love land. I’m on an island and have no desire to leave.

2:55 pm: One person in our party has to be a buzzkill and remind us that we have to do that again in a couple days. I file him with the person who always makes the “nyuk nyuk, guess this is local” if the elevator stops at too many floors.

3:15 pm: We catch yet another cab from the ferry pier to the Playa Azul Golf and Beach Resort. It’s a very small, 50 room resort on Cozumel… 32 rooms taken for the wedding.

3:30 pm: Arrive hotel. For those keeping track at home, the reason we didn’t take the flight from LaGuardia to Cozumel was 1) it was more expensive and 2) it took longer. By my tally: $398 in flights + $50 in cab + $20 for the ferry ride from ninth circle of hell + $20 for a cab ($488) and 7.5 hour travel time. Within an hour of me getting home tonight, I checked Travelocity to discover Delta Airlines LaGuardia to Cozumel: $437pp, 6 hours and 46 minutes with a change-over in Atlanta. In my world, we’re at the resort, not seasick, and not exhausted by 2:30 pm. The lesson, as always: don’t let accountants make travel plans.

4:00 pm: We get to our room. It’s a nice room with a balcony overlooking the pool and the ocean. I notice this all in passing as I go directly for a bed. The bride and groom have scheduled a welcome happy hour at the beach bar for 6:30 pm. My legs are still shaky from all the energy I spent at not vomiting. I lay down and sleep so hard that it feels I was only out for seconds.

6:15 pm: Quick shower and I’m ready to work. The bar is a square deal directly out on the beach. They have Sol, Bohemia, and Dos Equis. My favorite part of this resort thus far? No Corona.

8:15 pm: We move on to dinner at the hotel. Our entire party is drunk and exhausted so there is not much after-partying to be had. Which is good since the hotel bars close at 11 pm.

Coming up tomorrow: The Wedding.