Puerto Vallarta
by Jason Love
Last time in Puerto Vallarta, my friends got so happy on margaritas that the city finally became known as BARTA BARTA! That’s as close as our tongues could get.
The women at Senor Frogs communicated strictly by whistle and cornered us with shots of tequila. After three shots, you were allowed to wipe your mouth on their endowments.
What do you think inspired James Taylor to write a song to Mexico without ever having been there…
“Oooh, Mexico. I’ve never really been, but I’d sure like to go.”
This time I ended up on Vallarta Adventures’ “Jeep Safari,” which takes hopelessly white people into the Sierra Madre jungle to be devoured by arthropods.
Our leader, JC, stood as tall as Charlie Manson but was considerably more funny. From the hood of the truck JC waved a make-believe cattle prod:
“Come on, amigos. MOOOOve.”
En route to Jurassic Park, he held pop quizzes on Mexican history. Did you know that the Mayan calendar is printed on pesos and, if you collect three thousand of them, they add up to a dollar?
Sometimes JC shouted “LEFT” or “RIGHT” to cue us — left or right row — to duck the oncoming trees. When he yelled, “TEQUILA,” everyone hit the floor.
Our escort boasted of eating 15 tortillas per day and showed us his belly, where he stored them. The man was happy with himself in a way that made religion unnecessary.