This gray, dreary, wet day should be more depressing than it is. Alas, my mind is still filled with Mexico.
A friend got hitched on Sunday, and the beau and I were some of the very lucky few to be in attendance. In the background was the Gulf of Mexico. We stayed at two resorts in Playa del Carmen, about an hour south of Cancun. In the dredges of February … that’s just about as fantastic as it sounds.
It was my first trek out of the country (unless you count Toronto for a story for the campus magazine in college, but I don’t), and I’m so happy to have the experience under my belt, because I definitely learned some things about traveling internationally:
1) Immigration lines are the devil. In the Cancun airport, Immigration is downstairs. The line wound through three of those back-and-forth line-dividers things you see in the movie theater, then the line joined together to wind through a narrow hallway, then it split into three to form one line up the three staircases, then it joined together to wind through another hallway, then it entered the hub of the airport where people deplaned from their flight, and then the line wound around the circular shopping area in the middle.
2) A beach that looks like this makes all your travel woes disappear:
3) When a friend in New York buys you jewelry supplies and says, “I’ll just bring them to Mexico since I’ll see you soon,” don’t say “OK” if some of the supplies look like this:
Yes, add that to the List of Dumbest Things Adult Jaclyn Has Ever Done. Lindsay had no trouble getting them INTO Mexico, but when I had to go through Customs during our layover in Atlanta, they definitely got searched. The TSA supervisor tried to rip one open, but to no avail. Because, you know, they’re not real bullets. They’re solid. And way the crap heavier than a real bullet.
“They’re jewelry supplies,” I explained. “That’s what the little loop at the top is for.”
“Jewelry?” she asked dubiously. “Do you have a bag you can check?”
“Yeah, I can check this if I have to,” I said as she continued to try to pull a bullet apart. “It’s pretty solid, I think, but you can try to smash it open if you want.”
“NO, I do NOT want to do that,” she said, offended that I had asked. “I think it’s OK, but please, do NOT travel with these again, OK?”
4) I’ve always wanted to get hitched barefoot in the sand. It will never happen, as Joey on an airplane is not a good idea. If he flips out, the folks who thought my bullets were real may mistake his autism for terrorism or something. So I’m resolved that one day, I’ll wed in the Midwest. However, there is no way anything could be better than this:
I really like that Jason looks like he's saying "shhhhhhhhhhit" here.
5) This isn’t something I learned about traveling internationally, but I did learn it in Mexico. I should be wearing fire engine red lipstick. Lindsay, who is something of my favorite fashion gal, said with my skin tone, apparently I’m just the right shade for bright red, which I was convinced I could not pull off. It looks great on her, and she’s like see-through. Could it really be good on someone with an olive complexion? She put hers on me and stuck the tube in my purse. Looking at the pics, she’s right: I actually can pull of red lipstick. Who knew?
I can't tell if it's a dark pic or just my screen, but my lips are totally bright the frack red. It's no where near as obnoxious as I thought it'd be. And that's not my fabbo stole, but the bride's. I could have slept with that thing, I swear it. Also, you can't see them well, but she made fascinators for all the women at the wedding and boutonnières for all the men. They were both amazing. Apparently, at her suite later that night, I flung the feathers from my head because it was hurting me as I sang the song book of George Michael with my friend Andrew as we swung on the hammock. I have no recollection of the fascinator flinging, but you can bet I remember Georgie.