Going back to my room.
I remember a time when I used to go to Acapulco – I was around 18 years old the first time I went with my friends. We had graduated high school in January and decided to take a trip to Acapulco – where I had been countless times with my family but never on my own.
We stayed at the Acapulco Plaza which was located right on the beach. We would spend the majority of the day on the beach or by the pool – at night we would hit one of the trendy restaurants and then end up on line at Babyo’s – the most “Popular Disco” in town.
The problem with going to the most “Popular Disco” is that you need to get inside first. Most of the time you can give the guy at the door a twenty dollar bill and he would sweep you in.
One night there was going to be a big party at the club. It was the last day of spring break and every one was headed to Babyo’s.
Some things happened that night where I ended up splitting up from my friends and found myself alone on line trying to get in.
I gave the big dude with the white suit a handshake and he took it but said it would cost me another to get in. The problem was I didn’t have another dollar on me. I tried to reason with him and asked that he call his manager. He went inside to see and his manager said that if I couldn’t give the extra twenty to get in, I should just go to another club.
“There are plenty of clubs in town.”
“But all of my friends are in your club and if I don’t get in I might as well just go back to my room.”
“I don’t really care.” He said.
I asked for my twenty dollars back but he just laughed and told me that if I wanted trouble he could call the police over and I could deal with them. Now the Mexican police are not the sort of people who would take kindly to an American accusing one of their own of stealing money from them. I just sighed and decided to leave.
I went back to my room.
I had tried the other clubs on other nights and found them all to be kind of seedy. Plus I didn’t have any money on me now – once I would go back to my room and get some – it would be too late. So I walked to the Plaza – which if you know Acapulco at all – it’s a long, long walk.
By the time I got to the hotel, went up to my room and lay down – I was out cold until the next morning.
The next morning after we all woke up – all of my friends were talking about the best time they had the night before.
“Everyone was there; it was amazing.” I then had to sit stone faced smiling at them as they laughed and high-fived each other after each tale.
Now almost thirty years later – I find myself back on line short on cash but wanting to get in the club. I ask for the manager but the manager won’t show his face – the doorman just acts cold and tells me to go to “other clubs.”
I am with my family and I do not want to have to go to another club – but this new sense of inclusion for only the ones with the cash – has me feeling like just going back to my room.