Team Cream

I went to Puerto Vallarta with my White, Mexican loving, Spanish speaking friend who made the optimal travel partner/chaperone/compadre/alarm clock/correct pesos for the bus-haver/dive-bombing into sand scupture preventer, and most vitally, compliment giver whilst confronted with my ravaged leather hangover face. Although no one spoke to me in my native tongue, being anti-social was an impossibility. In any given place of rest, retail, social gathering, dining, transportation, leisure, laundry, and most annoyingly, clandestine sexual encounters (just joking) you will find someone between the ages of 3-82 approaching you with a tray of beads on strings, or necklaces, as we call them, requesting an unreasonable amount of money in exchange for them. I am here to say, after 2 margaritas, the T-shirt featuring cartoons of all the different types of boobs, and the Spanish nicknames for them is worth exactly 100 pesos, no more, no less. Other things that may happen include losing your camera sometime after 15 oz. of tequila (strategically hidden inside frozen, blended sugar) and somewhere between taking a picture of a gorilla at a nightclub and dive-bombing into a masterpiece of a sand sculpture. The food anywhere outside of your hotel is amazing, and covered in salt and lime. If you are a female visiting Puerto Vallarta you will feel very beautiful because the males will call you baby and cutie but mostly things in Spanish that you can see in their eyes are complimentary to your appearance. Their cars, cabs, pickup trucks, or buses will also whistle at you with their custom cat-calling sirens. Buy all of your friends tequila at $10 a bottle, so when you get home they can feel as bad as you look from drinking it.