LITTLE ROCK — Recently I traveled with five friends to Los Cabos, Mexico.
We sunned. We ate. We drank. We sunned while eating and drinking. (Was there ever a more genius invention than the swim-up bar?) We shopped. We lounged. And we even learned a few things.
If you are ever feeling unnoticed, invisible or lonely, go to Mexico.
Everywhere you go, you will get constant attention - from the airport, where drivers hustle you for rides; to the shops, where personnel seduce you with promises of deals and compliments (“Hey, Charlie’s Angels!”); to restaurants, where hosts lure diners in with specials and mariachi groups serenade you with song and demands for tips; to the beaches, where salesmen go from cabana chair to cabana chair pushing dresses, jewelry and Corona cowboy (vaqueros) hats.
We were most startled by the Cabo San Lucas marina vendors attempting to peddle trinkets with their kids present. When that didn’t work, they tried selling something else: “Hey, you want a Mexican boyfriend?”
Never pass up a photo opportunity.
While walking through San Jose del Cabo, we wanted to get our group’s picture taken in front of a cathedral.
A friend got the attention of a stranger exiting the church. “Take our picture?” she asked, motioning with the camera.
He shrugged his shoulders in agreement.
But instead of taking the camera from her, he took his place next to us. He thought we wanted him in the picture. Hey, it did end up being our favorite from the trip.
It’s all about the Journey.
Mexicans “Don’t Stop Believin’” that all Americans are still “Open Arms” when it comes to the rock band Journey. And that we still think it’s 1981.
Our resort was forever “Faithfully” playing Journey tunes - over the speakers and by a band at the beach party.
When it comes to Journey, Mexico is willing to give it to you “Any Way You Want It.” Except off.
Bargaining pays off.
In addition to shot glasses, maracas and sombrero ashtrays, there was another souvenir we kept seeing all over Cabo San Lucas - unlicensed NFL team serapes. Who would go all the way to Mexico to bring someone back a counterfeit Cowboys cape?
Well, me.
Until I found out the price.
“Forty-four dollars!” the first salesman bellowed.
“Ten dollars!” I countered.
He went down to $22 as I was heading on to several other shops that eventually offered them for $20.
At the last store I visited, I asked the woman if she could go lower than $20.
“OK, OK,” she said, pausing dramatically like I was twistingher brazo. (That means arm, not what it sounds like.) “It’s $19.99!”
“Sold!” I said, so delighted with her dealing style I didn’t even mind when she kept the penny.
Besides, the serape more than paid for itself.
A friend bet me dinner - anywhere I want, whatever I want - that I wouldn’t wear el Snuggie Mexicano on our nearly 10-hour trip home, removing it only at necessary security checkpoints. It wouldn’t be easy from a temperature standpoint in 80-degree Mexico. It wouldn’t befun from a team standpoint in rival connection city Houston. And it wouldn’t be fashionable from a trend standpoint in Little Rock. But forget comfort, this was about comida! (That means food.) I wore the warm and slightly scratchy blanket-withhead-hole the entire day, and found it strangely agreeable. Not only was it cozy on drafty flights, but it was also flattering, disguising my post-vacation pooch, and it made me rather popular with fans along the way.
“Nice shirt!” “I love your outfit!” “Did you make it yourself ?” “Where did you get that?” “That’s great! Here, look at a picture of the blanket a friend made for me !”“It might not be our year, but next year we’re coming back!” “Now that’s a die-hard fan right there!” I didn’t have the heart to tell any of them that it was just for a bet, and that I - who root for the Ravens - bought it for someone else. It was a first - I never had men - well, straight ones - stop me to comment on my wardrobe before.
If you are ever feeling unnoticed, invisible or lonely, you don’t even have to go to Mexico - just find a fake pro football serape.
Use those brazos, e-mail: jchristman@arkansasonline.com Spin Cycle is a weekly smirk at pop culture.
Style, Pages 57 on 11/28/2010