Destination

The scent of salt water traveled in the ocean breeze to mix with the overwhelming smells of sex and alcohol. We had arrived.

Cabo San Lucas, Mexico was now overrun by college-aged tourists on the annual spring break pilgrimage. Venders were trying their best to sell knock-off souvenirs to some innocent travelers, the girls were scantily-clad at best, alcohol was consumed by the gallon. It was nothing I had ever witnessed or been a part of before.

Our group of six managed to develop a daily routine by the first day we got there. Wake up, eat breakfast, shower, hit the beach for hours, nap at the hotel, shower, and go out until the sun would rise. Then we’d do it all again. Drinking was haphazardly mixed in whenever we felt like it was necessary, with the trek home always consisting of buying multiple gallons of water. Despite a different time zone and a complete disregard for my sleeping pattern, I was wide awake almost the entire time.

Some of the scenery was straight out of a movie. Directly off the beach were mountainous rocks protruding from the water, acting as barriers to the outside world and shielding away our own little community. I wasn’t truly aware of what the phrase “as far as the eye can see” meant until I saw the clear blue of the ocean water look like it merged with the sky and end in a wall of baby blue with speckled whites of clouds.

We quickly learned our way around our general area, having walked everywhere the entire trip. The beach was behind our hotel, downtown was to the left of it, other hotels were to the right, and we barely ventured straight. Downtown was our destination every night, with dozens of clubs to dance in and get free drinks from.

Never before in my life had I seen a higher concentration of beautiful women. Every single one had my jaw down trailing behind me on the burnt sidewalk. The people I met will forever share the bond of this adventure, and it’s an adventure I’ll never forget. Traveling to Cabo was my first time out of the country, and it was the best week of my short life so far.

There is something amazing about the youthful innocence of our lack of innocence. All we want to do is see something beautiful with a massive group of people and drink and dance and party our lives away. Its simplicity is what our lives thrive on.

Romantic elements filled up the entirety of the trip before we even boarded our flights; the longing to see foreign lands, see beauty in nature, new experiences, and possibly even a person to love for the duration of the trip.

We can fall in love for a day, a week, and then return back to our separate states, because we know that’s all it could ever be. The specifics of what happened, the debauchery, were too many and too graphic to list here, but it’s nothing like Arkansas.

Now that I’m back home, drinking coffee and perched at my writing station, I reflect upon my vacation with immediate nostalgia and a sense of hope. Hope that I will visit again. Hope that I will travel even more. Hope that the new friends I’ve made will remain by my side. Hope that the girl I loved for a day could make time stand still.

I can pause time, though. I’m a writer. And this whole experience was too incredible and life-changing to be reduced to a short, vague blog post.

 

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