Mexican Vacation, Part I

Mexico has always been the destination of decadence
So it makes sense that there would be a drug dealer greeting you at the door.
And that is still the case.
Today, however, time-shares are the dealers drug of choice.

They pounce on you as soon as you arrive at the airport. Uniform-jacketed with official nametags “Where are you staying,” and the rap begins.

No matter your response they steer you to the “official agent” for your hotel “See it says it right here, senor” – all the while all we want to do is find the “pre-paid resort shuttle that will take us to our Priceline Mexican vacation.

At the desk we are told our shuttle has just left, but that they, as official agents of the resort will offer us free massage, free dinners, free activities, if only we’ll attend this free breakfast. “It’s a marketing thing, “ Eduardo tells us. “So that you’ll tell your friends about the resort and they’ll come too.”

And no matter what we say, “We’re just trying to get to the resort. We’ve been up since 4 am (true) and she is sick as a dog (also true), all we want to do is find the shuttle, get checked into our rooms, and find the bed” – no matter, Eduardo has a mission and that mission is to “give us all these great things, just sign here. “

In the end, we negotiated a deal: we’d give him $20 US and sign up for the free breakfast. With that we were allowed to pass the juggernaut, and then told to wait until the shuttle was ready. 20 minutes later (It’s now been nearly an hour after arriving ) the shuttle loads us up to our resort – Villa del Arco.

Upon arriving at Villa del Arco, and tipping the shuttle guy for the 50 minute trip, and our bags, we are seized upon by the next wave of Condo Salespeople. The next wave is a little more sophisticated. Hot Mexican Chicks in sleek skirts and tight blouses; they greet you with big smiles, all heels and clipboard. The “concierge” will be right with you. From then on in, our check-in journey is steered by Julia. She’s late-twenties, tanned, blonde and attractive in a kind of hard “I’ve been around the block a time or two”, Island Real Estate, sex sells sort-of-way.

She has fancier brochures than the guy at the airport, and a better manicure job, but essentially Julia’s deal is the same. But here it is referred to as “the gold card” Do you have your gold card membership? They are good for discounts all over the three resorts, and the shop. Everyone will ask you for your membership card.

Membership card is code word for timeshare. They want you to buy into the program. For this is not a resort at all. It is a giant sales pitch. We booked the trip at the last minute. See it is my fiftieth birthday, and Tammy turned 40 this past summer. This, we decided, would be a great combined celebration. All we want is a little Fun, Sun, just pure relaxation. But Tammy is sick as a dog, and salespeople surround us. Even at the local market, they ask us if we are ready for our breakfast. Two guys in suit pants and short sleeves, guys we’ve never seen, approach us with more clipboards and this time walkie talkies. They call to us by name. They know who we are. We are in the system, and they are going to keep track of us for the week. Oy. We tell the Mexican Mafia (as Tammy later names them) suited guys we’re not interested. They persist: “We’ll give you more free stuff.” No, No. “Really, what do you want…”

To be left alone. We make it to the shuttle and back to our rooms. Tammy and I have decided to make our way to the pool, and hope we’re not accosted along the way. In the meantime the phone rings; we decide not to answer it.

To be continued…