Cabo Spring break!!!! Everybody was far too excited, Spring Break with all of your college friends...in Mexico?!?! What could be better! The night before Cabo we all drove up to LA since our flight was at 5 am the next morning. Luckily, we had a friend who lived semi-close to LAX so we all stayed there. We decided to begin the preparty for Cabo in LA that night. We had a sober ride to the airport at 3 am, so why not pregame Cabo a bit, right?
We all sat around the campfire overlooking the city lights of LA for hours, discussing what seemed to be life, love, and other mysteries. Drink after drink, the conversations started getting more interesting, and I recall a few stumbles here and there.
3 hours later- All of the sudden i'm walking into LAX International.... with no shoes on.
"Where are my shoes, where are we?? What's goin on?!" These were only a few of the questions I found myself asking. Walking through security to get to Mexico with no shoes on...probably not my finest moment.
The next part is also a blur- but don't judge too much, I mean it was like what 3 or 4 am?
The plane ride consisted of tequila...and passing out? Next thing you know, HOLA AMIGA!!!!! And BAM, I'm in Mexico.
-Tipsy Tilly
Unlike many of the Cabo stories I have heard, yours takes place before you even touch down. Respect. The best story I have from Cabo is not of my own, but of my alcoholic best friend. His name is Alex. One night after too much tequila the night took a turn toward the chaotic. Much like how a full moon rears the beast out of wolf-man, 2 a.m. spurs a sudden lunacy in Alex, compelling him to partake in violent outtakes and involuntary retardation. The next day, when Alex had returned to his reasonable mind, the mystery of the night became a funny story. Turns out, the kid leaves the club, Squid Row, and begins to walk 2 miles in the wrong direction. To make things worse, he finds himself in shady alleyways where barking dogs and creepy sounds encourage Alex to run, and in an effort to escape these invisible tormentors, fall, repeatedly, rendering his palms and knees raw and scratched. After fighting with a cab driver who sought to rescue him, he pays for a $40 cab back to the hotel and sleeps outside of our door until I found him, battered and all, at 6 a.m. Sorry but your post spurred this memory in my head and I couldn't help but relive it. thanks. ag
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