Crybabies

Almost forgot to include a brief encounter story. We stayed at the Cabo Real Hotel (or something like that) last night — one of those big resort-like all-inclusive places where jocks and chubby retirees who prefer Mexico to Florida hang out and consume cheap margaritas made with low-grade drink mix. All-inclusive sounds nice at first, but you don't get a lot for $100 a night — our first room (we got moved) had no functioning toilet and the window looked out into the hallway!

In any case, as we're checking in to the hotel, some jock guy comes over to me and belts out his variant the old standard — “yo braw, that musta hella hurt!”

I tell him it didn't, and I'm just sort of staring at him and his buddy when he points at his nostril and I realize he has a really tiny pierced nose gem. He continues, “cause I cried like a motherfucker when they did this to me!”

“Yeah, I guess I'm just not as much into crying as you are,” I tell him.

I suppose he liked the answer because he mumbled something generally agreeable, laughed, and stumbled off with his beer.

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