Wasted away again in Margaritaville
Friday, June 6th, 2008I haven’t ranted for a while, and I thought I must be mellowing in my old age. Nothing of the sort. We have just got back from Mexico where I discovered the reason that certain Americans climb to a high place armed with serious amounts of ordinance and kill anyone who wanders through their cross hairs.
Puerto Vallarta sits on the Pacific coast of Mexico a few hundred miles north of Acapulco. It seems more Mexican than Cancun somehow but still has a lot of Western influence because unfortunately lots of Americans go there on holiday.
In their defense we did actually chat to a few Americans that were charming, intelligent and not insanely religious. The rest, I’m afraid to say, didn’t make it on to the list of people I don’t want to kill. The scary thought is, the Americans you meet on holiday belong to the exclusive club that have passports, 5%. The open minded ones. There are more Americans that believe Joan of arc was Noah’s wife than have passports.
In the main, and this is a sweeping statement, they were greedy, obnoxious, ignorant, devoid of manners and under the impression that the rest of the world are there to ensure they have a fucking good time. That whiny fucking voice “can I get a strawberry daquari?” (say it like you’ve just been twatted in the face with a frying pan and you should get that tone that grates the soul). And why is every fucking sentence a question? I think they do that annoying thing with the last word in every sentence because they think everyone else is fucking numb. I didn’t hear a single fucking one of them say please or thank you the whole two weeks I was there. It may be my reserved British attitude but just because you can fit 6 pounds of food on your plate doesn’t fucking mean you should.
The rest of the holiday was muy bien.
And this one time, at band camp…….. I FUCKING KILLED THEM ALL!