Mexican Spring Break

Enough, fuckers. The fear is gone. Get your dopey heads out of my way or I will push your face.
American clowns stuck in the middle of what is amongst the worst economic situations ever. Here they are. Is pouring money on a spring break trip to Mexico going to boost the American economy? Are the beaches of Hawaii, California, and Florida out of order? Do any of you wretched parents realize what you are really doing? All the irrational shit you allow to rest at the forefront of your mind for comfort? You are spring breaking in an exotic locale with your next to naked, smashed and underage daughters while a pack of male predators circle like vultures tricking their way into your daughters vaginas or waiting for the moment they are weak and drunk enough to take the pussy. Does Aruba ring a bell? Natalie Holloway? How about the cartel violence in tourist spots like Cancun and Tijuana? Wonder what the cartel is doing at your tourist spot? Do you care so much about your daughters tan lines that you let her walk around in some lotion, two strings, two cocnut shells, and a leaf? Are you really giving dirty looks for taking a stare at the tight countours being exposed in a way most reserve for the privacy of their bathrooms and bedrooms? If you tan your body its to look good naked. Im looking at you because you look good naked and that is what I am into. Because your body is perfectly full in all the best places. I like to catch a woman as she lets her hair loose and scratches her scalp while she shakes her head to bring the free flow back. Especially if she is in the water. Mid-thigh level, so there is that sexy gap between her legs that shows just how nice her shape is.
A kid tells his Mom he found something on the beach that he wants to take home to remember Mexico. She smiles and happily tells him to bring it back to the room at the end of the day and they will fly back with it when they get on their plane tonight. The kid takes off running down the beach, his mom still smiling. I recognize them, they have been staying across the hall since I arrived.
An Asian woman passes with her son and kicks sand into my drink.
This other mom with the hot daughter is still glaring at me. Are you looking so offended and worried because of my bushy beard and my long, thick unruly hair? Is it because you know what I am thinking? Or is it because you are too naive to be watching out for the eager seventeen year old with the birkentstocks who is planning on ejaculating inside your virgin daughter? If your daughter getting stared at by some creep with a beard is bothering you than consider telling the little bitch that it`s not polite to stare. Not when someone checks into a hotel. Not when someone is eating dinner. Not when someone is having a drink. Not even when the person has a beard. And surely not when its a twenty five year old man with ten grams of mexican schwag in his pocket and eight empty cups strewn in the sand around his lawnchair at 1pm. What I'm thinking about is undressing your daughter and making her cum. If not her, someone elses daughter. Any girl with a flat stomach, perky breasts and a smile will do. Sometimes my mind wanders and I also think about the hotel employee who sold the ten grams for a hundred bucks with a promise that it was chronic. The bastard. A hundred dollars is worth a couple ounces, easy.
I rest my hands on my fat belly and turn away from the mother and daughter as they pack their things and exit the beach, probably to head to the pool or grab a late lunch. Or because I have made them feel very uncomfortable. It is hard. In a string bikini she looks good doing anything. Whether it be the packing up she is doing now or the moment a few hours ago when she was walking back to her room for who knows what and she cut her foot on an unidentified object on the ground. I was too far away to look closely. I could just watch as she hopped and balanced like a light brown flamingo.
I see something really beautiful. A mother, bald from chemo, talks as she stands on the beach. At first glance it appears as if she is talking to someone 30 feet in the air in the opposite direction of where the rest of the guests lay on the beach. I turn my head for a more complete picture. Her child, 150 yards away and three stories up, talks back from the porch of their room. For a moment everything ever is forgiven, including myself. The world feels small. I listen to the conversation as do two elderly couples from Canada enjoying drinks. A family of nine Pakistani's. A Mexican couple and their son. Twin bleach blonde daughters. The Euro couple who each day get naked and kiss each others privates in plain sight with the husband stopping every so often to snap some photos of his wasted, lazy wife with breasts like grapefruits in pillowcases. The Mexican father takes a mini-football out of his wife's beach bag and begins to play catch with his son. The world feels very small. It makes little sense, yet it feels good to be a part of alive. It's almost like finding a spot on a beach where for a moment you can feel completely alone even though there are people and things everywhere. The son misjudges the ball and catches one with his left eye. He goes down hard and immediately gets loud. Alright you little shit, you've got everyones attention.
The man next to me turns towards me with a smile, "Isnt it just great to be alive?"
I pause. I allow the fury to build. When it boils I swiftly crack the lid and hit him with a burst of steam, "Fuck you! Go fuck yourself!"
A loud beep breaks the noise of voices and wind and waves crashing onto the beach. A Nextel two-way page plays through a man's phone. He is sitting nearby with his family. He clicks the phone, another beep, then he starts to yammer away into the reciever. Nearby the first kid returns to his mom with a four foot branch of drift wood in his hands. The man on the phone stops, then another beep comes in followed by the voice of the caller again. The man hands the phone to a woman sitting next to him as the speakerphone voice continues on. I turn fast and move quick. As I reach him he is still in shock as is the rest of his family. I grab the phone in one motion and continue running. As I reach the water I toss the phone 40 yards into the ocean. It barely makes a plopping noise. "That was my cell phone!?!"says the offended woman.
"Its a rectangle made of metal and plastic at the bottom of the ocean. Sort of like a man made sea shell." I say, feeling satisfied. I am fairly sure I heard her husband giggle as I walked away.
Her mouth remained open and her feet still for some time. I didn't notice her leave but by the end of the sunshine she was gone. I gathered my things and staggered down the beach towards my room.
When I woke up it was dark. My room smelt thick. I took the mini bottles from the mini bar and a handful of joints I had carefully rolled from the bag in my pocket while 'Car Carrier Blues' played on repeat and I left my room. I set out for the beach, always a treasure at 3am. Then the clean blue pool at night caught my eye. Sprawling and massive and totally empty. I managed to finish all the goodies I brought as I drifted and swam around during the dark, empty night. Sometimes I would hit the joint and dunk my head underwater while I held my hand above, dry. Sometimes I would toss the mini bottles to the next place I wanted to swim too and used them as a poor mans diving darts. After sunrise I left the pool as the first tanners laid out. My fingers and toes sucked dry pruned. After I packed my things I walked out of my room for the last time, looking back to make sure I didn't forget anything. Across the hall the empty room was being cleaned. Outside the room, leaned up against a corner, the four foot tall wooden branch. Mom had decided her son would leave it behind. Or he just forgot.