It Felt Like Part-Vacation, Part-Kidnapping...
I know it's been quiet in here lately, and a lot of that was my fault. Saul and I were hosting our usual board game meetings in cafes around Cancun, but the other day we got invited to this new place, a hostel in the Hotel Zone. I've had some great memories in hostels and with people I've met in them around the world, and especially while backpacking southeast Asia. They were sometimes $1 US dollar per night in Vietnam. Things were going fine, his friend gave us a tour of the place, and we settled on having the games night in the lobby where the most traffic would come through. Sure enough, with an initing pile of hundreds of dollars worth of board games stacked high on a table at the entrance, they started wandering in: a tourist from Chile, a man from the Czech Republic, and eventually an energetic Chinese psychologist who ironically started off the conversation by telling us all about his problems. He said he was passing through just for a night or two and then on his way to Cuba. As the games progressed, he said, "Hey, I know, let's go to Coco Bongo!" It had been a dream of mine to go for the last 3 and a half years. But it's ungodly expensive! So it just wasn't in the budget. He said, "Ahh, come on, I'm going to get a table, it's $300 and I'm paying it anyway, but if I add someone they'll let you in for $30 bucks." I thought, hmm, that's not bad, even with a Mexican local discount it's still more than that. Maybe.. As the others weren't budging, he kept badgering us, "Okay, what if I just pay for you to come? I only booked a hostel instead of a hotel because I was hoping to meet some friends and go on adventures since I don't have much time left here." So we agreed. We met the Chinese psychologist down in the lobby, and took off. He insisted on tacos before the show, and said he knew the best taco place in town. We both laughed, what does a Chinese man know about Mexican tacos? Enough apparently, those were the best tacos I've ever had in my life. I don't eat that crap, but what's the point in being obsessed with health if a couple of times a year you can't celebrate being alive. Not jumping headlong off the wagon, but merely partaking in a few bites for the comraderie.