Back From Vacation

      

Well, I'm back.

​     I wish I could promise you twice the jokes to make up for the time I was gone and didn't publish, but that's not going to happen. 

     Yes, my friends, it seems like only yesterday I was drowning in the ocean, and now I'm home pulling weeds. For those of you kind enough to ask, my wife and I had a great time. It was fun. Really, really fun. 

     Two days into it I was ready to come home. 

     I missed my girls.

     The flight to Cancun was uneventful, the pilot even managing to keep the plane upright the entire journey. A lot of people were traveling. Even men with man buns. I saw a girl wearing a Hawk Tuah t-shirt, but, as it turns out, it just said Hua Tul Co, which was a fancy way of spelling the city of Huatulco, which was named after the 60s television dance show Hullabaloo.

     Let me stop right here to dispel a myth or two about Mexico. There’s a lot of people who consider Mexican products or services substandard, and I call those people my in-laws. Trying to ruin my trip before it even started, they'd ask:

     "What were you thinking?"

     "A MEXICAN airline?"

     "WILL TRUMP EVEN LET YOU BACK INTO THE COUNTRY?"

     Don’t get me wrong.

     I understand completely. 

     Every time a plane goes up, there's a chance it may come down unexpectedly. Engine failure. Pilot error. Flying too close to the sun. If I've learned anything from Greek mythology it's that the wax holding our wings together might melt. 

     Flying is unnatural. There's always a possibility that you could die in a horrific plane crash or have your tequila bottles taken away by thirsty TSA agents on your return home. Both equally tragic. 

     When I was younger, flying didn’t bother me at all, but now I can’t help but think 0f the physics of it all. How can something so big and heavy lift itself in the air and stay there? Like uncontested elections, it seems impossible, but it’s not. Maybe if I flew constantly I wouldn’t have an issue with it, it would just be a normal thing to do.

     For my mother & father’s 50th wedding anniversary, we--all their children and grandchildren--flew to Las Vegas so they could renew their vows with an Elvis impersonator. You know the saying “white as a sheet”? Well, my older sister was white as a sheet as she waited to board the plane. She looked terrified, ready to faint and fall on someone's service animal. She's the kind of person who gets into arguments with people while standing in line at Walmart, but this time she was too busy praying for her life to fight with anyone. After returning home safe and sound, she refused to ever fly again,

     Despite all the concerns, my wife and I flew into Cancun via Aeromexico out of Juarez, which is a border city named after the great Mexican leader Bo Diddly. Turns out, their airplanes are fine, just fine. You know the recent troubles the aviation industry has been having lately? Well, none of them have been in Mexico. I’d be hard pressed to name one aviation disaster that has taken place in that country. So would you, but still there’s a stigma about Mexico. Add the word “Mexican” to anything and it immediately devalues whatever you’re talking about.

 

   “I filled up your car with gas.”

   “Yay!”

   “MEXICAN gas.”

   “Boo!”

   “I bought you some candy.”

   “Yay!”

   “MEXICAN candy.”

   “Boo!”

   Nothing will ruin a romantic evening faster than this: 

 

   “I’m going to put on some music.”

   “Yay!”

   “MEXICAN music.”

   “Take me home.”

​