TEQUILA SUNSET

One fine day when we were walking by the municipal pier, we saw a kiosk advertising cruises. Having read something somewhere about a sunset cruise up the coast to Ixtapa (and back), el sr J walked right up and started asking about tickets. Yes, he had them. No, there was no Sunday cruise, but we could do it Saturday. We signed up. The ticket seller's name was Ishmael. We hoped to avoid large whales, real or symbolic. The boat was a catamaran, thankfully not named The Pequod. It looked serene sitting there in its slip.

We knew there was an open bar, so we chose our seats strategically to avoid having to watch drunk Americans on the open water. There was a short, single row of seats facing the water and that's where we went. Most of the passengers chose to sit on a trampoline which stretched across the bow. They had to take their shoes off to do this. The crew would then take their orders and collect their empty bottles/glasses. Others sat at the bar so they could be served directly and more often.

When "the captain" started talking, he pointed out the bathrooms, men on one side, women

. . . . right in front of us! I saw a small hole there. I got up and looked down, straight down to a small door. There were six steps going straight down the side. If ever there was an incentive not to drink, that was it. Nevertheless, many women did have to go and we became the toilet monitors, informing them when someone was already down there so they wouldn't have to go down and up twice. Also we advised them to go down backwards so they wouldn't fall. One very large woman went four times (in two hours). Another was assisted to the spot by her man, and then she didn't come out. He had to go down and drag her up.

El sr J, a model of sobriety

We cruised across the bay and turned up the coast in the open sea. There were interesting rock formations which spoke silently to the volcanic activity along the fault line.

The sunset cruise lived up to its billing.

When we were almost back at the dock, the capital turned off the engine, turned up the music (Tequila by the Champs, a James Brown tune, and other assorted loudnesses) and the bartenders got out bottles of tequila. Not many people were in any shape to drink shots, but those who did got their heads shaken vigorously after imbibing. Some kind of a ritual. Looked scary to me. As we disembarked, there were many helping hands to assist the revelers onto dry land, and then hotel vans were waiting to take them back to their pleasure domes. We walked back to town.