Cabo Notes 6

I’m still full of Cabo stories. This is the story of the messy towels. The hotel gives each guest a card that can be traded in for a big fluffy white cream-colored beach towel. At any time, you can exchange the towel for a clean one. Ron picked up his first towel and got about six yards from the towel house before he stepped on a lady’s sunscreen bottle, which was lying open on the ground. The sunscreen squirted out all over the ground, the lady’s beach chair, and the lady. Ron immediately offered his towel to clean up and the lady wiped all the sunscreen off of her and her chair on Ron’s towel. (I was laughing too hard to help.) As we walked away, Ron commented that he felt like he was in a Jacques Tati movie. If he had been Tati, he would have wound up rubbing the woman down with the sunscreen in a ridiculous but terribly sexy effort to get rid of the lotion. If he had been Harpo Marx, he would have had the lady performing sex with him under his coat in the beach chair by the time he was done. But Ron simply had a towel loaded in sunscreen. I traded towels with Ron and told him I’d get him another one. While I was trading the towel, Ron stopped in at the restaurant to see what was cooking. He attempted to fix himself a little plate of guacamole and chips, but somehow came away with most of the guacamole on the other clean towel. When I saw the towel, I imagined Harpo rubbing a beach lady down with guacamole. I took Ron’s other towel and headed back to the towel house. Somehow along the way, my towel fell out of my beach bag. So this time I returned to the beach house with a towel covered in guacamole and had to confess that I had lost the other towel. The beach towel lady gave me two fresh towels and was, thankfully, not judgmental. She probably figured I’d swum up to the swim-up bar one too many times for 10:00 in the morning. Either that or I was participating in a guacamole orgy.