We just got back from our honeymoon in sunny Mexico.My new wife and I purposely picked the Riviera Maya region to avoid the blatant commercialism of Cancun and Cozumel. Plus, we wanted to indulge in a little Mayan history... the calendar, the number zero, the ruins etc... and we did all that shit too. We climbed a pyramid in Coba, had lunch with a Mayan village, saw a bunch of native wildlife and palled around with some Germans also on their honeymoon.
Pipes and I stayed at a 4 or 5 star resort, filled with all the marble, ashtrays, swimming pools and bars a man can ask for. This thing was all inclusive! Meals and drinks = free. You ask, and they poured. It was during our week at this tiny fenced-in community that we learned you could spot an American from a mile away. Not to be confused with our cable-stealing, polite Canadian neighbours from the North, Americans typically walked around with bravado and ignorant flair.
The resort featured fancy a la carte restaurants where men were required to wear long pants. This rare chance for men to play dress up for a night gave way to outfits featuring khaki's and tank tops, bandanas and ripped jeans with frayed slayer shirts at the table. Grunts of disgust at wearing pants loud enough for all to here. No tipping of these hard working waiters and bartenders that dutifully picked up after us. Stale, outdated, and unfunny "Me So Hungry? jokes at the Japanese restaurant. I'm no gourmand, but I know it's not polite to throw prawns on the floor, push plates away making weird faces and comments and act like you were served your grandma's ashes mixed into a plate of rice and beans.
All along the resort, you'd see Larry the Cable Guys clones high-fiving tramp-stamped, bleached blonde Paris Hilton wannabees while their steroid-ripped, tattooed, ex Marine Iraqi war veterans ordered cervesas from the many bars. I mean, we tried to avoid the stereotypes. When we met a German, we tried to spit out more than "Autobahn is fast, huh???" or "Hitler.? What's up with that dude????" We played horseshoes with a swell family of Guatemalans, giving them a friendly thumbs up for near ringers and the occasional leaner. We played tequila volleyball in the pool and on the beach with the crazy Spaniards (I taught them about the virtues of three hits), and had a nice best of 7 series in foosball (no spinning, eh) with some Canucks.
I don't mean for this to some erudite commentary. I mean, I like the good times to roll as much as the next guy. My problem or what I'm trying to say is... just act like you've been there before. America is at an all-time low right now. The world hates the Ugly American. Let's do our part to reverse these stereotypes which were so evidently displayed in our eye-opening stay in Mexico's rich Riviera Maya.
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