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Friday, 25 July 2014

We Never Knew When to Quit

By Marcy Belson

Yes, this is another story about a trip to Mexico with Krumi Tours led by our own "Mr. Krumi" aka El Queso Grande.

Same country, Mexico. Same group of friends. Different destination. This time we were flying to Matzatlan, Sinaloa, Mexico, located on the Pacific coast across from the tip of Baja.

German immigrants brought prosperity to the area in the 1800s with equipment to mine for silver and gold. They also founded a brewery in 1900, still in operation. They influenced the music with banda, a form of Bavarian music.

By the time we arrived in 1973, music came from Carlos & Charlies and the beer was still flowing.

Back to the beginning. We drove to Tijuana and boarded a La Mexicana Airlines plane. Directly behind us were a group of fishermen from Los Angeles ready to party.

As the attendant (known in those days as a hostess) told us to fasten our seat belts, one of the fishermen told her he only had one half of his seat belt. She assured him it was fine and that she would be bringing a complimentary cocktail. He was happy with that solution.

Mr. Krumi had made reservations at a beachside hotel, five rooms for our group of ten people. Red alert: one of the woman told El Queso Grande that their room had no view and seems to be on the basement level. Problem solved, we traded rooms.

Sometimes, being Mrs. Krumi had its down side.

Other tour groups had their itineraries posted on the hotel bulletin board and Mr. Krumi quickly added ours - with Krumi poolside parties, trips to town to shop at the outdoor market, the van available for those who wished to sightsee.

One couple, hereafter known as "Nick and Lola," were not married and they were given a room in the high rise part of the hotel. First night, they went out on the balcony, he shut the slider behind him and it locked. No Mr. Krumi to solve this dilemma and Nick could see no one on the beach below.

He climbed over the rail and dropped to the balcony one floor below. There was an open door and a dark room. Unfortunately, there was also a woman, sleeping. After her initial scream and fright, she was an extremely good sport, calling the front desk and asking for someone to bring a key to Nick's room.

Lola was still on the locked balcony, naked, and she was a nice looking woman. I'm sure the hotel employee is still talking about that night.

But wait, there's more!

The following day, while two of our group went fishing for marlin, the remainder sat on the patio drinking cerveza and margaritas, watching the boat circling the bay with people hanging in the air from a parachute. Nick mentioned that he always wanted to do that.

He and Mr. Krumi wandered down to the water's edge and talked to the Mexican man in charge. He explained the procedure.

The person must wear a harness attached to the parachute and also roped to the back of the boat. The boat would slowly troll and the person would run down the beach until the boat and momentum would lift them to the sky for a gorgeous ride, then circle back. The boat would slow and the person should land on the beach with an employee helping them stop and removing the harness.

The final requirement was that the person weigh no more than 200 pounds. Nick looked unsure but - Mr. Krumi to the rescue - assured the Mexican man that Nick weighed about 190 pounds and really, really wanted to do the ride.

The Mexican was there to make money, not quibble about weight and a deal was struck.

Nick was in the harness, the boat took off, we held our breath and he took off for the ride. I'm happy to report, he did land on the beach. I have never seen a human running so fast but he stayed upright.

I think Nick considered himself invincible. After all, he hadn't fallen from the tenth floor the night before, naked as a bluejay

In the meantime, our fishermen had caught big marlin. As part of the deal, they were to have a photo taken with their catch. They decided to return to the hotel and freshen up before the photo was taken.

Mr. Krumi got wind of this. He and Nick quickly took the rented van and found the marlin hanging at the dock with no one around. They took pictures of each other and never said a word.

Weeks later, when the fishermen proudly showed photos of their catch, Mr. Krumi and Nick produced their photos, same fish, same location. Some thought it was funny; others, not so much.

This trip ended on a memorable note. As we flew north, the crew served lunch. Fish from the oven, with a strong fishy odor. Beer cans were rolling on the floor as the plane banked from one side to the other. I have a photo of one of our group, wearing a wet towel on her head, with her tongue hanging out.

Viva La Mexico.

[INVITATION: All elders, 50 and older, are welcome to submit stories for this blog. They can be fiction, non-fiction, poetry, memoir, etc. Please read instructions for submitting.]

Posted by Ronni Bennett at 05:30 AM | Permalink | Email this post


This one made me laugh and laugh. Wonderful memories.

Such fun you had and wonderful memories for all of us to enjoy 2nd-hand.

I enjoyed your story so much. It was fun and enjoyable to come home to after being in the hospital overnight with the worst migraine I have ever had. Gary dimmed my screen as much as possible, I have my big dark sunglasses on over my reading glasses, and the room lights are low! YEA! Thanks!

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