no. 6: solo sam does lunch in a foreign country

holy crap did you all think I was dead? a month absence is not ok and rest assured I have been punishing myself. that's right, I haven't had a drop of alcohol since my last post. just kidding, I'm a liar and a slacker. in all reality, I blame the holidays and all of the cuddly family time. and then there was the whole getting back in to the swing of things after 16 days off. regardless, one of my many 2014 resolutions is to not get so sucked in to my gossip girl marathons that I don't have time to do anything that requires more than just breathing. 2014 will be the year of me blogging in a timely manner.

so now that we have that all settled, the family traveled abroad (when I say abroad I really mean mexico) to celebrate the birth of our lord and savior (wait what?). we spent seven glorious days on the beach. I consumed more banana daiquiri's than george jung has consumed cocaine in his entire life. I read five books -- I'm a regular scholar -- and got myself a pretty nice little tan. a stranger even came up to me and asked which native american tribe I originated from (that is actually entirely false. I told you I was a liar.) so fast forward to day three, I mean four, I mean three -- is there even such a thing as days of the week while on vacation? I just don't think so -- no one would go eat lunch with me. when I say no one, I mean my own flesh and blood. apparently everyone was too comfortable in their horizontal position to eat lunch with me. after informing them that they were worthless to me (isn't that what family vacation is all about, hurling insults at your family members?) I decided to go dine alone. in a different country. no one was even all that concerned about the possibility of me being kidnapped and sold in to riviera mayan sex slavery. in their defense though, you could see the restaurant -- I mean hut where they served food -- from their loungers.

I spent the next five minutes attempting to put on my super complicated seamless coverup and walked my daiquiri buzzed butt up to the hut (one car, two car, red car, blue car). first challenge: trying to tell the non-english speaking hostess your room number. second challenge: trying to convince said hostess (without creating an american scene) that yes, I was indeed dining alone. you guys, she literally stared at me like I ordered a virgin margarita on a tequila boat cruise. maybe she thought I was volunteering myself for sex slavery. not sure. she seats me at the two-top table nearest the exit -- easier for criminals to grab me, I'm sure -- and of course I'm facing two studly men because that's my life. what more does a man want than to watch a short girl in a weird science experiment looking beach coverup wipe guacamole off her face? I popped my shades on and pretended like I wasn't staring directly at them. juan comes over and tries in his best english to take my order -- I tell you, those mexicans are such cute little nugs and I love them all for trying so hard to speak english, especially since my vocabulary doesn't extend past 'gracias' -- I proceed to order a cheese quesadilla. they said no. what? wasn't I in mexico? the land of the quesadilla. let me tell you, I did not have one facking quesadilla the entire seven days. not a one. and when I did ask, they just shook their head no. I don't know if I'll ever recover. I did, however, discover the fish taco so it wasn't a total loss.

all in all, the dining experience was a grand 45ish minutes and I didn't hate it. I mean there's not really much to hate when you're sitting in 85 degrees looking out over hot men, er I mean the ocean. while I do consider it to be a brave activity -- if you asked me a year ago if I would have done it I would have punched you in the face (probably nothing that aggressive actually, maybe just would have called you a four letter word) -- I can't help but feel that maybe I cheated a bit. I don't think judging or even paying attention to other people while on vacation is a thing. at least for other people it's not, my family is a totally different story. not that this little solo adventure is about being judged by any means, but that is my crippling fear which is what lead to me starting this whole shebang. I was nervous about going to lunch alone (it seems very official and serious) but it really wasn't all that bad. I liked the alone time and I liked being able to quietly take in the view. I do think I will do lunch round two, american edition, though.

things I learned:
1) the guacamole in riviera maya tastes like a whiskey hangover feels. not my favorite.
2) it is possible for a woman to literally cough up a lung and still be alive enough to eat her fatkids.com nachos. I saw it happen.
3) banana daiquiri's are better in the morning when fresh bananas are still a thing. you're welcome for the tip.
4) europeans love mexico and europeans love to wear speedos. europeans also love to let their children run around like a bunch of feral cats.
5) mexicans don't really sweat. I was sweating like honey boo boo's mom in a sauna and they were all cool as a cucumber. one of life's many great mysteries.

banana daiquiri cheers, all y'all!

I wasn't able to take any photos of my quesadilla-less lunch due to the fact that my phone had zero wifi the entire week. I was so upset with that little piece of shit that I threw it in the bottom of my bag and didn't pull it back out until I was safely back in my homeland. i.e. the exact minute that bird touched down in detroit.