My husband and I vacationed in Cabo San Lucas last year. We had quite a shock, thinking that Mexico would be a utopian wonderland of cheap food and jewelery. As the resort host succinctly stated: "This is not Mexico. This is CABO. Nothing is cheap in Cabo." Or as my husband put it: "It was like San Diego. Only more people spoke English."
All pesos aside, I still loved bartering with the locals. Every morning, a whole crew of grimey, leather-skinned locals would set up camp just outside the rope barrier which separated our side of the beach from their side of the beach. The unsuspecting resort guests (ourselves included) would wander down to check out their offerings and quickly be lured into a cat-and-mouse game which centered around the question of whether or not they were willing to pay $30 for earrings which were worth no more than $2.
As we haggled with Paco for sunglasses one blisteringly sunny afternoon, I noticed a collection of bongs discreetly displayed among his wares. I nudged my husband to check out a particular bong in the shape of a woman's torso with, well, "huge tracts of land." I knew our minds would run down the same road. Doesn't smoking pot decrease your amorousity? Why would a pot-head want a naked-lady bong?
Well, Paco caught my subtle elbow-jab in Brett's direction and this conversation followed:
Paco: Oh, ju smoke, amigos?
Brett: Uh, no. We just think that's funny.
Andrea: Yeah, we don't smoke. We're mormon!
Paco (looking back at his friends): Oh, yeah? Me and Antonio and Pablo we're mormons, too.
Brett: I doubt it.
Paco: Si, si. We're Mexican mormons. All the Mexican mormons smoke. We can't relax unless we have some weed every day.
Brett: Sounds like you need to repent. Go talk to your bishop.
Paco: We can't. He's smoking weed, too!
Andrea: Well, go to church. Jesus loves you.
I'm pretty sure I know where the $20 we paid for the sunglasses went. Into the bong shaped like a naked lady. Now that I think about it, it looked like it had already been used.