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Breakfast consisted of fruit and tons of fried stuff of questionable origin - rows of the stuff pervaded the giant buffet, and not a shred of pizza or pizza-like substance was to be seen. The closest that it came to pizza was a triangular deep-friend unidentifiable substance. I ate tons of these - they seemed familiar.

After breakfast, we went to the pool to find that every single chair had something on it. At nine fucking AM, there was nobody there but there was stuff on all the chairs. "Fuck," I said loudly, disturbing the poolboy. "The rules say no reserving of seats."

Mike didn't hear me; he was too busy throwing hats and cell phones into the pool as he placed his sunglasses on one chair and my well-worn copy of The Power and the Glory on another. "Matt! I found us chairs!" he proclaimed, waving his arm like it was his dominion and he'd be damned if anyone's cell phone would spoil it. "All this will soon be ours, my friend."

"It already is. Was that cell phone waterproof?"

"Dunno. It was at the bottom of the pool when we got here. Hey," he said, shielding his eyes from the already-blinding sun. "A bar." He, indubitably, made his way to the bar, going through the pool and a number of walls in the process. He came back bearing beer - lots and lots of beer. "It's all free, man," he said, spilling a beer. "All this beer is fucking free. I'm in my happy place, Matt. Don't take me from my happy place. 'Kay?"

"Jesus, Mike, it's nine in the morning. Can't you at least wait till noon to get smashed?"

"No. We're on Mexico time, any time from nine to five is prime sloshing time."

I shrugged. "Does the bartender make any specialty stuff? I'm aching for a real Mexican pina colada."

"Bartender? Anyway, I'll be sitting here drinking and maybe swimming if you need me. Which you shouldn't. Go get your fifi drinks. Pansy."

I sighed and did as told, slowly making my way around the pool and into the hut that was labeled 'bar'. They had giant blenders there, at least three feet tall, and I saw a small man make vats of whitish liquid that I could only assume was pina colada.

"Uh, hi," I said tentatively, unsure if anyone in this country spoke English. "Can I have a pina colada?"

"A 'course, sir," said the little Mexican guy in clear English, not that butchered Engrish you hear the TV Mexicans speak. "One big pina colada for the big man."

"Are you making fun of me? I can't tell."

"Course not, mang. Enjoy."

Confused, I waddled off to the seat that bore my book and noticed that Mike was doing pirouettes in the pool. When my good judgment kicked in, I decided I should throw volleyballs at Mike. No, wait, wait, my judgment didn't kick in until a while after that. Sorry.

He recoiled under the barrage of white pool toys, shielding his eyes like the pansy he is. "Stop it! Duude! Pleaaase!" he wailed, shrieking like a ninny. I relented, upon which time he clutched my ankles and literally launched me headfirst into the pool.

I can swim, don't get me wrong - I was all the way up to blue level in those retarded Red Cross swimming lessons before I bailed because I realized how gay swimming was. But my swimming ability is somewhat impaired if, at the same time that I am being thrown into a giant pool headfirst and every orifice in my body is rapidly filling with water, I am being assaulted by a veritable volley of volleyballs. I dove underwater, trying to avoid the balls, which only resulted in me realizing I hadn't taken a breath and hurriedly streaming to the surface.

"Greackle!" I yelled when I hit the surface. "Shwick!"

"What?" asked a confused Mike, one eyebrow raised. "Greakle shwick?"

"Fuck you, my mouth was full. I was trying to say 'Stop throwing goddamn volleyballs at me, I think I'm drowning."

"I was expected to get all that out of 'greackle shwick'?"

"I already said 'fuck you' once. Don't make me say it again."

"You just did."

"Fuck you!"

He laughed, and we played volleyball until college co-eds started playing with us and Max hit the wrong round object. He assured me it was a total accident, but the girl whose bathing suit clamp had mysteriously undone itself didn't quite agree.

To avoid the inevitable naked mudwrestling, we retired to our room just in time for midafternoon tea, which consisted of a pack of Doritos and three beers, and pondered what we'd do tomorrow.

"So," I said, sipping something in a bottle labelled with three X's, "wanna ponder what we're gonna do tomorrow?"

"I thought we could maybe go into town," he said, munching. "I mean, there's gotta be some cool stuff to do there. Right?"

"I'm sure there is. Town it is. Did you take any pictures at the pool?"

He grinned, and I didn't push the interrogation any further.

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