We awake to find that room service hadn’t gotten to pick up the room service dishes before the spider monkeys did, as was indicated by the bright pink footprints left behind. They had probably drunk their fill of the sweet & sour sauce that had accompanied my spring rolls. But judging by the spilled reddish oil, they took one taste of the habanero pepper paste they sent up for my husband’s chicken and flipped the super spicy bowl over in angry monkey rage and took off for the nearest source of water.

Today is our last day for golf. As we returned to the lobby to retrieve our smartly checked golf clubs, we noticed quite a few more people waiting for the shuttle this morning than usual. The group appeared to be mostly high school aged boys, based on their attire and haircuts, popped collars and unkempt fringe sticking out from under their baseball caps. A few fathers seemed to linger nearby, their tanned legs and boat shoes giving an indicator to the boys of what was yet to come for them.

As we climb into the van, we realize we’re the only individuals who brought their own clubs. The van is nearly totally full, which also means that the check in office will be completely swamped. By the time we arrive, there’s already a handful of people in the office, so our group essentially overwhelms the place. Sensing it could take a while, and that the boys will soon discover the free buffet next door, I send my husband over to get his breakfast before the kids devour it all.

In the chaos of all these people, there is no discernible line to check in. Because I’m the only woman, and golf is one of the few arenas where open discrimination still takes place, I must wait until all these people are finished and out of the way. The gentlemen behind the desk recognizes me and we move quickly to get our reservation confirmed and our wrist bands. I retrieve my husband for his, as he’s finishing up his breakfast and, as expected, the boys have discovered the free food.

I grab what I can from what’s leftover, eat a quick nosh, and then we head down to the driving range to check in. I’m shocked to see that the starter has two couples scheduled for our tee time. I had not wanted to be paired up, considering each round of golf was $200 a person (American). Even though we were using resort credits, I was surprised that we would be paired up. I expressed my concern to the starter, and he told us that we could start without them, that it was “no big deal.”

He did remind us that it was cart-path only again, as it had rained pretty hard the previous day. We mentioned that there should be more enforcement, since we had seen other golfers definitely not sticking to the rule. He said that he would remind each set of players before they went out, which I imagine each set of pompous entitled bastards just ignored like last time. Still, we wanted to get moving, so we grabbed our clubs and some range balls and got to warming up.

When we were ready to go, we saw the teens and their dads ahead of us on the first hole. We decided that we would play best ball again because we had better luck with that strategy the game prior. This was the third time we would be playing this course, so I was feeling pretty confident. On a few holes, I even managed to out-drive my husband’s tee shot. He shoots from the white tees, and I always tee off from the ladies’ tees, but still it was quite the accomplishment.

In spite of our quick and much improved game play from the previous rounds, the cart behind us, with the couple we didn’t want to be paired up with, caught us quickly on the back nine. Considering neither player was all that good, from what we could tell, they were making up speed by not obeying the cart-path only rule. At one point my husband asked if I wanted to let them play through. I flatly said no. Even if the foursome in front of us moved fast enough to allow enough wiggle room, I was not about to reward bad golf manners and asshats who disrespect the course.

We got to the 18th tee box and saw three small, black decent sized animals near the water on the left. It was too far to make out what they were exactly from that point, but as we got closer, I saw they were a pack of wild dogs, three young ones (maybe 6-9 months old), still very much puppy like prancing around, chasing the birds and rolling on the grass to scratch their backs. It was adorable and probably the best way possible to finish the round.

Back at the club house, we grab a late lunch and a well-earned cerveza. We see the guy from the rained out game and his wife, and actually have an opportunity to chat. Turns out they’re very nice people. The wife who doesn’t golf, showed me how she spent her day: wandering around the city of Cancun where she found a store front that had a baby lion who was rescued on safari. For $20 American, you can play with this fuzzy little creature, whom they saved from being eaten by its family due to its size. I was so jealous.

She then went on to say that they were Jehovah’s Witnesses, and according to their belief system, you can do whatever you want following the rapture for 1,000 years until you go to heaven and this is what she would choose to do. Can’t say I blame her, but then I thought, even the best stuff would get boring after the first hundred years.