Close Encounters of the Bar Kind ~ 2
Cantina Calamity

Bound and determined to add some authenticity to our trip to Cancun, C and I inquired about a local salsa bar and were told it does not get hopping until at least 11:00 p.m. In an effort to stay awake we dressed and ate around 6:00 (an hour late for those of you who know us) and decided to relax in the hotel lobby bar until it was time to catch a cab.

Before taking our order the waitress informed us that it was happy hour. Two drinks for the price of one. Imagine our surprise when she came back with four drinks. So as not to seem oblivious to local customs, we accepted the four drinks vowing to only order one the next round. This had less to do with excess and more to do with keeping our ice from melting before we made it to the second drink.

Not halfway into the first drink the entertainment arrived in the form of a tank top wearing, short-short sporting, twenty sheets to the wind, VERY Southern sounding woman named Lucinda. Lucinda is from Tennessee where her father knew Elvis. I know this and the rest of her past because ten feet away from her perch at the bar everyone could listen in. In fact, it would have been more difficult not to hear her.

Lucinda was extremely thrilled about the happy hour tradition of two for the price of one and you don’t even have to wait for the second. She ordered Corona after Corona all the while babbling on to the any man brave enough to sit at the bar. At one point she did shut up to take a tiny cat nap, head hanging over the back of her barstool while her bare feet were propped up on the one next to her. Not one to sleep through a productive happy hour she quickly woke up to choose her next victim.

Ready and willing was a single guy with a mullet to match his mustache who owns an appliance store somewhere in the Midwest. I know this because before hitting on Lucinda he struck out at our table. Mr. Appliance was more than happy to shell out the sixty pesos for Lucinda’s double Coronas. She was equally as happy to have him until a young, mocha skinned boy of half Mr. Appliance’s age made the mistake of walking up to the bar right next to her. Lucinda moved in like a black widow and just as quickly was turned down. You know the expression “hell hath no fury like a woman scorned”? Well, add a few cocktails to fuel that scorn and see what happens. Lucinda jumped off her barstool and began screaming racial epithets at the man. For his part he did the best thing and walked out without saying a word.

Not one to be easily let down, Lucinda again turned her attentions to Mr. Appliance who asked the woman to dance!! She could barely walk! However, she did manage to begin dry humping his leg during their Dirty Dancing routine. She also kept a hold on her Corona the whole time. Problem is those glass bottles get slippery with condensation and have a habit of just slipping out of your hand which hers did. A moment later, Lucinda followed landing in heap on the broken glass.

As if they were waiting in the closet for a moment such as this one, three paramedics were on the scene in a matter of seconds. They sat Lucinda in the table directly behind us. C and I could not believe our luck! While the paramedics doctored Lucinda’s bleeding hand, the bartender came over to check on her and their conversation went much like this:

“I’m a gooood tipper hunh?”

“Yes”

“Will you get me a drank?”

“How about some water?”

“No, I want a draaaank.”

“I can give you some water”

“Come un bay-bee. Brang Lucinda a drank.”

“I can’t bring you a drink.”

Leaning over to get as close to his face as possible, Lucinda musters her exorcist voice and says:

“Assface!”