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After a quick Google search, I can confirm with 85 percent certainty that Cancún is in fact in Mexico. You know, America’s adult themed amusement park. A one-stop shop on crystal blue water where you can get a shark tooth necklace, an 8-ball of cocaine, and a big bottomed lady of the night all within a 20-foot radius of the deep fried banana street cart. A lawless fantasyland where you can drink, urinate, and fornicate wherever you damn well please. Just have few Andrew Jacksons on you at all times and any time you get into a jam with the law, you’re essentially granted diplomatic immunity. The beach isn’t half bad, either.
But not THAT Mexico.
It’s still a tourist trap, so you don’t have to worry about the cartel making you dig your own grave in the middle of the desert before beheading you with a machete for looking at them the wrong way.
The only real crime you’ll have to worry about is petty theft of tiny pickpockets or the downright highway robbery of paying ten bones for a piece of cardboard with plastic cheese that they call pizza at four in the morning walking back from the bars.
You get to be cultured.
Whenever you come back from “abroad” or “overseas,” you get to feel a sense of superiority to everyone else around you. That passport stamp gives you free range to look down upon anyone who’s never been out of the states. They don’t know the first thing about the exotic cuisines of Hooters, Bubba Gump Shrimp, or the Mexican native favorite, Applebees.
You’ve taken in the high fashion of neon, pun-laden tank tops, puka shell jewelry, and oversized sombreros. You’re now a traveler of the world and one sophisticated motherfucker.
They use fake money.
Just crack open your family’s Monopoly game set before heading down to Cancún and that should be more than enough to cover your expenses. What’s that, Jose? 4,000 pesos? Yeah, sure. Take the red one. That should do it.
All your terrible decisions don’t count.
So you actually land in prison because you forgot your bribing funds in the hotel. What of it? There’s really no consequence for the arrest. It’s a little inconvenient, the jail cell is not the best maintained facility and less than ideal to spend a night in, and your buddies might think it’s funny to make you sweat it out a bit before bailing you out. There’s still nothing going on your record, it won’t affect your future, and now you have an interesting story to tell everyone when you get back.
Not to mention, you knock some latina broad up and it’s like it never happened. What is she going to do, track you down? Good luck getting over that Trump wall with that baby bump, sweetheart. What’s conceived in Mexico, stays in Mexico..