Cabo San Lucas, Mexico

Thanksgiving in Mexico

The San Carlos Harris’ enjoyed Thanksgiving with the Dutton’s south of the border in Cabo San Lucas. It was our first trip to Cabo and it was fun to see the California coast’s southern most tip.

We rented a large house that rested on a rocky mountain about 500 feet above the Pacific Ocean. We enjoyed a perfect view and quickly became experts at both sun and moonsets, as we studied the Western sky from the porch.

Unfortunately the biggest news of the trip had nothing to do with the beautiful scenery, the cute souvenirs, the warm weather or the friendly people. The big news was that I deflowered not one, but two rental cars. That’s two accidents within two days! On our first full day I was driving a Ford van with a pitiful turning radius, I pulled into our circular driveway and as I came to a stop I misjudged the car’s ability to turn. I ran the car up on nine-inch rock curb as I came to a stop in front of the house. Ok, I blew it. I misjudged the turn. But considering that I was going about 4 miles an hour, the result was devastating. The front right tire was shredded. Believing that this was simply a flat tire, I changed it grumbling all the way. But my 4mph damage was much worse. Somehow I dislodged the turning mechanism from the wheel. The car was effectively dead.

A call to Hertz scheduled a replacement car to be delivered. Thank god we opted for full insurance! “Of course, you know, that full insurance doesn’t cover the under side of the car,” we were told. Welcome to Mexico!

A long negotiation resulted. A second car and a cash payment were required to make this vacation killer go away. The second car was a Ford Explorer. Well, at least I had experience driving this car with a far superior turning radius. Not two days later, with a carload of family I was driving down the main drag when a car from a cross street tried to make a left hand turn in advance of me. The car lost, but the Explorer suffered minor damage. While those in the car acknowledged that it was “probably” not my fault, no one was thrilled with the prospect of returning the car to Hertz. I was clever to allow my brother-in-law to put the car in his name and he was correct to be nervous about his ability to ever rent a car in Mexico again. We had visions of massive bribes required when we returned the car in order to safely exit the country.

When we did return the car, I marched in to the small Hertz office and announced that the car had a full tank of gas and that I had a “little accident.” He looked over my paperwork, grabbed the keys and marched outside to verify my report. When he came back, I asked if everything was OK. He said, “yes, you have a full tank of gas.” He had nothing to say about my accident. I signed the paperwork and hopped the shuttle to the airport. It was only later that I concluded that when I said I had a little accident, he must have thought I was referring to the first “little accident” not believing there could be a second one.

All told, however, the Taxi ride home from San Francisco airport was the scariest car experience of the entire trip! The driver reported he hadn’t been to SFO since September 11 and had to wait two hours to pick us up. When he heard we were going to San Carlos he told us that it would be a “meter and a half.” He explained that while he would happily drive us as far North as we like, Southerly travel was limited to 15 miles before a surcharge was added. Turns out we live 13.5 miles South of SFO. He was pissed at his bad luck and was trying to return to SFO within 30 minutes so that he wouldn’t have to wait another two hours for another fare. His futile attempt at a 30 minute round trip to our house and back resulted on harrowing ride on a rainy night.

Highlights from our vacation

The vacation was very fun despite the headaches outlined above. Take a look at the pictures and see for yourself. Here are some highlights.

Normally at Thanksgiving I’m hunting for moist pieces of dark turkey meat. I’ve discovered a better turkey. It’s called pig! We had carnitas which looks a lot like turkey’s dark meat (and tastes a lot better).
My new favorite sport is riding Jet Ski’s. Those puppies are liking riding bareback on top of a rocket. With the warm salt water splashing in our face, the boys and I spent a couple of sessions doing figure eights around the cruise ships parked in the harbor.
Tequila is easier to drink in Mexico than in the U.S. At one of the bars we were in there was a sign that said something like “Stop asking us if the water is safe to drink. You are in Cabo and you should be drinking beer anyway!”
I wonder who is teaching Mexican merchants how to market to Americans? As friendly as the Mexican people were to the visitors to their city, they were horrible marketers. Does anyone enjoy being constantly offered products to buy while they are trying to relax on a beach? But there must be some marketing seminar in Cabo where they teach merchants the phrase that must work perfectly… “Welcome Amigo, the products in my store are almost free.” When we concluded that my definition of “almost free” is about $1 and their definition was about $20, I concluded that this marketing technique was misguided.
On the first day I couldn’t believe that crap that people were pedaling on the beach. Braids, henna tattoos, hats, blankets, jewelry, cheap plastic toys and the like. On the second day, for some dumb reason we wanted everything that was for sale. Boys got tattoos. Eve got jewelry, which as of this writing hasn’t turned green yet. Greg bought a hat. And more…
Lunch on the beach one day, I ordered some Vodka drink, mostly to be social. But it was hot and I was thirsty and avoiding the water. Within minutes the drink was gone. And within minutes of that a sombrerro’d bandito was blowing a whistle announcing to all that I was about to consume massive amounts of tequila. Unbeknownst to me, my brother-in-law had negotiated a double shot carefully pored from the bottle directly into my mouth. The result was a very drunk Greg. It was the first time that I’ve ever been drunk in front of my kids. They had lots of questions about what it felt like. I reported that I felt fuzzy. Kevin wasn’t comfortable with me feeling fuzzy and warned me to avoid alcohol in the future.
Upon returning to the U.S. the customs officer turned to ask his standard list of questions. Instead of asking me he started with the boys. He told the line of people that kids are always more honest than the parents. He asked them if they had a good time, how long we were there, was it for business or pleasure and then he asked if we had any alcohol. I jumped in and answered for the kids and said “no.” Scottie quickly corrected me and told the customs officer that I wasn’t being truthful. He reported that I got fuzzy on the beach that day.

Happy to be home. Haven’t had an accident in about three days now!

December 3, 2003