Thanks so much for joining me for Coffee Hour and Cabo memories. I think this is every bit as fun as scrapbooking, actually a bit easier because I can definitely write/type faster than I can scrapbook! Grab your coffee and come on in.
On Thursday evening, we went to the Beach Party put on by the resort. I was anticipating another fun time, hoping to laugh like no one was listening and dance like no one was watching, just like we had unexpectedly at the Fiesta. Right after dinner, the Emcee got us up and out of our chair into a conga line. The party was definitely starting, but this time, George and Rodney stayed back and Cheryl and I joined the line.
The song hadn’t even finished and Roberto stopped everyone and began explaining the Limbo. The more he explained, the more people left the line. I was up for the challenge, and so was Cheryl, though she was a bit hesitant. When it came my turn, I confidently walked forward, practicing the positioning that Roberto had explained to us: bend down, thrust hips out, shoulders back and walk!
I got closer to the bar and bent down, thrust my hips back and began to walk forward, that is until a pop that I swore everyone heard stopped me. For a brief second, my body broke out in a sweat and instantaneous paralysis, but pride pushed me forward. The crowd cheered their approval for me to continue on in the contest, but I went straight to our table not stopping to collect $200. I was in excruciating pain. I don’t know if I pulled my groin or thrust my hip out of its socket, or what. All I knew in that instant was pain. I literally had to take both my arms and lift up my right leg to get it stretched up and out on the chair in front of me, which was empty, thank God!
beach party fun…b4 injury!
The rest of the night passed in a blur. I did manage to get up and dance a bit, but it certainly wasn’t as if no one was watching. In fact, as I tried to move in the sand, I probably looked as though there were invisible restraints attached to each of my legs while the rest of me sort of swayed to the beat!
We managed to stay through the end and my pain lessened a little bit but if I moved a certain way, it would begin to rear its head and cut at me like a razor-sharp knife. I think this was the night we went up to their room at The Ridge – no, that was the night before. Oh, that was another hysterical memory. Have you ever tried to walk through a screen door in the dark? OMG, we all laughed so hard over that one that I nearly had an accident.
Rodney & Cheryl dancing like no one’s watching
Anyway, the night after my injury, we went into town so George and I could get a massage. We knew right where to go: to the place we had been last year where for only $25, you got a one-hour massage! And it was really good. Or at least it used to be.
When we walked in and saw completely different people, that should have been our first red light, but we proceeded anyway. The language barrier should have been another flashing red light. Last year, we were able to hold a conversation with almost everyone in the place. They motioned for us to follow them and they put George in the room next to mine. Let me tell you, when you don’t speak the same language, or any part thereof, there’s a problem, a cultural problem.
To make this long story short, here I was supposed to be relaxing through a one-hour massage
Looking 4 hats!
but instead of laying down in an attitude and atmosphere of relaxation, I spent the next 60 minutes grimacing, clenching my fists and even at times grinding my teeth. And just when I think this had to be the worst massage I’ve had, and I’m fighting the urge to just get up and say I’m good, you will never believe what happened: She began pounding on my face! I thought she was going to break my face bones. If I wasn’t so shocked, I might have broke out laughing at how ludicrous it was. Now I know there was minimal lighting and it’s hard to really see, but you would think that she would have noticed the terrified look on my face, the gritting and grimacing and grinding would have caused her to stop, but no, she kept on pounding. And when her sweat dripped on my face, I nearly jumped off the bed, but sat there frozen in disbelief and pain. I couldn’t move because my hip or groin or something was killing me!
enjoying the pool at The Ridge
I have never been so relieved in all my life to know one hour of massage was finished and I have had more than my share! Before she left out of the room, she thanked me. All I could do was shake my head.I was so tempted to ask her where in the heck did she learn to do what she had just done, but I bit my tongue, reminding myself it is better to speak into someone’s life than out of it!
In a couple minutes, George came in to get me. “Get me out of here,” I gritted through my teeth fighting back the bipolar urge to scream and laugh at the same time. I couldn’t get out of there fast enough, and oh, the look on Cheryl’s face as I told her about my massage experience was priceless, almost worth the facial beating.
We laughed all the way down the boardwalk. That’s the beauty of traveling with friends like
Rodney never met a stranger
them; laughter can come when you least expect it but it always comes!
There are many more Cabo memories that I’ll always treasure, but pictures speak a thousand words. Thanks for allowing me to recapture the moments that made this trip so special.
Join me Monday for the return of Nana Holds. Wow, are things ever changing in that series!
Joyfully,
Evinda
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