Posts Tagged ‘mexico


cabo sin lucas

 People keep telling me that part of growing up is losing the desire to go out. But I’m becoming increasingly convinced that either a) they’re fooling themselves, or b) I’m genetically pre-disposed to eternal youth (alt: immaturity).  My grandparents are 85 and still have a rollicking social calendar. My mother is 59 and flits around the world ballroom dancing. And I am…old enough to know better, yet just came off a Cabo weekend that will probably haunt me via YouTube for the next 10 years.


I blame it all on Skye (pictured above). She’s five years younger than me (more energy!), 8 inches taller (better natural alcohol tolerance), and grew up in Hawaii/New Orleans (where they start crazy-training straight out of the cradle).


On Saturday, we woke up at 8AM, went out on an America’s Cup racing yacht with Team New Zealand (more on that as soon as they send me the good pics), and finished our morning off with Pacifica, chips and salsa. We earned it, too–being a “grinder” on a racing yacht is seriously hard work.

beach bar  p3271949.jpg  p3271958.jpg

By 2PM we were on Medina Beach, looking for action. Actually, I was randomly snapping photos, and Skye was looking for free booze. Which she found immediately. The only catch was, acquiring it meant subjecting ourselves to all sorts of ridiculousness: running in circles, slamming shots, chugging beers like frat boys, and having obnoxious Cabo emcees call attention to my boobs till I eventually smacked one guy upside his greasy head.


Made it back to Skye’s hotel in time to catch a truly glorious sunset, made more glorious by the fact that, even though the infinity pool was closed, we refused to leave, and thereby kept our unobstructed front-and-center seats. Strawberry margaritas. Sashimi. Guacamole. Mmmm.

p3271973.jpg (by 11PM we thought this was a great photo)

In spite of the nefarious machinations of the taxi cartel (they rule Cabo…they suck), we made it to a restaurant festival where I ate 57 different types of flank steak and Skye kept finding bartenders who wanted to give us tequila shots. At some point, we found ourselves standing in the shuttle pickup zone, singing Four Non Blondes at the top of our lungs while many strangers stared at us and our friend Ben ran away, saying “I’ve…just…got to find a bathroom!” Clearly time for a change of venue.

We rallied Ben, commandeered a van, and headed to the town of Cabo San Lucas. And there, my friends, my story ends–not forever, but just until Skye can email me some video. Because honestly, apart from vague recollections of dancing to Daft Punk and not falling off the podium and bumping into our friends from Team New Zealand, I cannot tell you much. Except that Jello shots are not food, no matter how much they may seem like it at 1AM.


Love Boat? Well, sort of.

I just got the seasonal schedule from Singles Travel International, and there are like a zillion cruises on it.

Okay, exaggeration. There are five, departing from now through the end of February. But still, that’s rather a lot.

Cruises have traditionally been the favored lazy vacation option for families or couples. My friend Nadia just went on a Carnival cruise with eight friends, and hated it. (In fact, her exact description was, “boring, full of Mid-Westerners, and the best thing about it was the 24-hour buffet.”) I couldn’t agree more. The only agenda on value cruise lines, in my opinion,  is to eat and eat, buy souvenirs, and then eat some more.

Singles Travel International cruises are a different story–mostly for the obvious reason that not everyone on the ship is married with kids. The way they work, to the best of my knowledge, is that the company reserves their singles a certain number of cabins aboard a Royal Caribbean ship, and also organizes a bunch of special singles’ events. The cruises are usually organized by age bracket, which is awesome unless you’re a dirty old perv looking to score with someone 20 years younger. Guests can share a cabin or book their own for slightly more $$.

 I can  kinda-sorta understand the appeal of this. The only downside is, if you decide early on that you don’t like anyone on the ship, then you’re out of luck for the duration. It’s back to the originally scheduled programming: food, food, sunbathing, souvenirs, self-hatred, more food…

Then there are the booze cruises that depart from Cabo, the Bahamas and every other touristy port in the Northern Hemisphere. These hardly count as cruises; they’re really just two- to six-hour forays into ocean-tossed madness. The whole point is to get really wasted, which makes no sense because there’s nothing worse than being really wasted and stuck on a freaking boat. I would know. I’ve done it twice–the first time I passed out on a speaker, and the second, my sister stripped down to a thong in the breakfast room at 8AM.

I absolutely despise booze cruises, but would never try to stop you from discovering their glory for yourself. It’s a rite of passage. And Dramamine will not help.

Because I receive about 30 nightlife emails every day, I recently discovered the next evolution in singles cruising–something I might actually want to attend, although it’s three days long and therefore a MAJOR commitment in Lena-cruise terms. It’s called the Kandy Kruise, and it offers 10 times more eye candy than Singles Travel and 10 times better entertainment than the average booze cruise. It’s brought to us by the Los Angeles promoters who throw the Kandyland parties at the Playboy Mansion.

These boys not only understand the importance of an amazing sound system and really plushy soft furnishings, they also have a truly winning formula for drawing beautiful women to a party: Let them in for free. They apply this very same theory to the Kandy Kruise, God bless ’em. Girls who want to try to hook up a free room send in their hottest photos, and a select number (approximately 10%) get free berth (two to a cabin) in exchange for dressing up in little outfits and parading around the ship, promo model-style. Apparently cabin size is irrelevant, since you only use them to pass out for an hour or two in between club-hopping, suntanning, massages, etc.

I got all these details from Michael Fuller, who runs marketing for the Palms in Las Vegas, and also helped promote the first-ever Kandy Kruise.

“”It was crazy,” he told me. “Really fun.” Coming from the guy who runs events at the Palms, this means a lot. Mike reports a 3:1 girl-to-guy ratio, great food, “clubs going every minute of the day” and all kinds of delights that I don’t want to mention because you’ll get all over-excited and the next cruise isn’t till March, 2008.

So start saving your money. Because boys, boys, boys have to pay, pay, pay. Not as much as for the Playboy Mansion parties, but still a hefty chunk of change for the average Joe–probably $800 minimum per person. Not sure whether girls have the option of paying their way in and not parading around in little outfits–I will check.

Disclaimer: Yes, I realize this scene isn’t for everyone. It typifies all things shallow and hateful about Los Angeles and Las Vegas. Unless you can go–in which case it’s really rather fun. So I’m just putting it out there.

In the meantime, go here to look at pictures from past Kandyland parties including the Kandy Kruise…because it’s Monday and you need a treat.

August 2020

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