Stick with me for a bit… it’s gonna get a wee bit crazy amigos.
So after our warm welcome to Acapulco,
we stepped out of the airport to meet our unfailingly cheerful driver.
And by unfailingly cheerful, I mean he never stopped smiling as he got in the van and immediately poured tequila shots from a massive bottle in the front seat.
See this picture of Itty Bit at barely a year old?
That bottle of tequila was about his size. Not.even.kidding.
I had to laugh when my dad said, “I guess they don’t have Open Container laws here…”
The second culture shock came as we pulled onto the roadway.
Mexico’s drug war has made some places unsafe. There are many uniforms everywhere you look… but I wasn’t prepared for the pickup trucks full of automatic rifle toting soldiers.
Hard to see in the picture above. (I was kinda sorta scared to use my sekrit photo ninja skills when guns were everywhere).
But it wasn’t hard to see at all when a military helicopter swung low across the hotel beach with armed soldiers on the skids.
The locals seemed happy about their presence. Our driver kept us safe, as promised.
There are all kinds of other stories about the tour he took us on. But for now, I’ll get to the reason y'all are here: my public humiliation.
(Don’t pretend it’s not. We’ve known each other too long.)
It all started when we discovered the pool.
And Itty Bit decided we should live there.
See those people? We get those looks a lot.
The first day I wore my MOM tankini with my MOM shorts. I figure the world is just not ready for the incredible hotness that is my longsuffering baby weight.
There weren’t many people at the pool so I reached for my dry tankini the next morning. The one with the BIKINI bottoms.
My mission was to add a coverup, find a hidden spot to shimmy out of it poolside, then sneak into the water without nary a flash of cellulite.
I was doing “swimmingly” (ha!) until (ahem) someone took this photo.
Why do I look taller that way? I should walk on my hands daily to be less fun-size.
That is neither here nor there (what does that mean anyway?). The fatal mistake I made was in agreeing to play Pool Bingo.
Now… let me remind you:
we are in Mexico.
they speak Spanish.
I am deaf.
there are penalties for calling a false Bingo.
my dad is a scoundrel.
I am so buggered.
They hand out these disposable punch out Bingo cards that are essentially a mess of hanging chads.
A very enthusiastic hotel employee is manning the microphone. She speaks rapidfire Spanish and translates to English. My dad mouths the numbers to me, except those blasted pieces keep folding themselves down while the wind tries to blow them into the pool.
You’ve already guessed, right?
One more number and the entire row is a winner. My dad mouths the number and my eyes widen. I hesitate… not sure if it’s good. And not sure how loud someone needs to yell.
My dad rescues me and yells, “BINGO!” and points to me.
The cheerful girl gestures for me to give her my card.
And then, as 1,872 pairs of eyes turn to me, I realize that I am utterly and completely screwed.
I have to get out of the pool.
In my “nobody will see me in these” bikini bottoms.
With my beautiful jiggles, back fat, and horrific sunburn.
“UN-BINGO!”, I want to cry. You can UN-BINGO, right?
But the friendly girl with the microphone is gesturing to me. My dad is grinning in that, “yep, you ARE screwed” way. And I have to haul my soaking wet poundage gracefully out of the pool and walk to the cabana.
Seriously, where did all these people come from suddenly?
They check the numbers. And as I look helplessly at them, I realize that I don’t need to speak Spanish – or even hear – to know what they are saying.
Oh Good Lord. There was no i-20.
And sure enough, my dad is thoroughly cracking up when the girl chides me and orders me to do my penance.
(No, that’s okay)
“Come on, you gotta do a $exy dance!”
My sunburn turned an even deeper shade of lobster, but she wouldn’t give up. Apparently calling a bum Bingo is serious stuff.
What was I to do?
My FATHER was standing in the pool being ridiculously unhelpful with his laughter, my SON was bouncing next to him splashing approximately 42 people, and my HUSBAND was already mentally writing a Facebook status update.
And of course the friendly girl has now drawn a bigger crowd with her microphoned encouragement to “Do a $exy dance! Do it!”
All eyes on me.
And this is what I busted out with.
And because one moment of utter humiliation is not enough…
they called me out of the pool twice more for encores and a bow.
(This was apparently hilarious to two guys from Michigan in the pool).
Don’t you feel better about your life right now?
Knowing that at least you haven’t embarrassed yourself in such a splendid way yet?
to all the family members who keep randomly yelling BINGO…