We arrive back from golf and decide to go back to the room to shower and change. My golf clothes had developed quite the aroma, and I was eager to get out of them. We decide to go off in search of food in the family side of the resort. We had seen a buffet called Pizza Pasta, and figured it would be the most likely to have american style cuisine. I was in the mood for french fries, anything that was familiar as my homesickness had grown to epic proportions.
We are a few minutes early and the restaurant has not yet opened for dinner. We decide to grab a drink at the nearby bar, which is completely dead. The very nice older gentlemen tending the bar makes our drinks and we have pleasant conversation about what sports he likes. Turns out American Football is quite popular down here, which we find surprising as our assumption has always been that soccer was the preferred sport.
Another group arrives with some kids and the mothers order virgin daiquiris for their kids and something stronger for themselves. Not long after they’re served, another gentleman arrives, sitting near my husband. He’s at the resort because he bid on the package in a charity auction. His best friend arrives and orders a beer, but not just any beer. He is given the only dark Dos Equis I have seen since we arrived. We stare on in shock, because on our side of the resort, we have been given nothing but the lighter beer, which is barely worth drinking.
I’ve already begun working on cocktails but my husband makes the immediate switch. We ask the bartender if he has any more that we could take with us. He says all he has is the two we were served and two more. Since we were going to dinner, we decide to leave the gentlemen to the last two and go off in search of more.
At the Pizza Pasta, we acquire more dark lager, and french fries, and chicken fingers and lots of pizza. After our happy bellies have been filled, we begin to feel a bit cheated. We wonder why our side of the resort not only doesn’t have it, but why even our VIP level status couldn’t get them to import it from across the parking lot for us. Honestly, we begin to wonder what the VIP status is really worth, if not for getting good beer. We are able to parlay the last two bottles from the restaurant’s bar and get two small pizzas to go. Clearly, we’d been staying on the wrong side of this resort. I’d gladly trade screaming kids for crappy beer.
We get shuttled back to our side of the resort and stash the pizza and beer in our room. We had been approached earlier by a man in a pirate costume who informed us that there would be a fire show on the beach at sunset, and we wanted to check it out. It was very impressive, a lot of acrobatic work and careful choreography.
Sleek, well-toned native dancers swung various flaming items around themselves and their colleagues to the drum beats behind them. From where we were seated, we had a pretty good view until about halfway through the show. Some douchebag couple decided to take the empty seats in front of us, and then lock their mulleted heads together to completely block the show. We had to stand up to see the rest of it, and I made a few comments about how rude some people can be.
Still the show was quite enjoyable. We stopped off for a cocktail before bed and headed back to the room. When we got back, we learned that the pizza tasted horribly after it cooled and was not worth keeping. So, knowing that room service wasn’t about to bring us another one, in spite of our VIP status, we decided to instead go to bed.