Our spring break in Cancun was great — thank you, fans

Hey there, time traveller!
This article was published 23/03/2010 (5984 days ago), so information in it may no longer be current.

It’s not every day in one’s football career you and a teammate get sent to an all-inclusive resort for swingers as a prize in a fan-driven contest, but either way, I feel it’s my obligation to share the experience with many of the readers and voters who may have inadvertently sent me there.

Truth be told, on this one-week trip to Cancun we were not actually at a swingers resort; it was a four-star, all-inclusive, adults-only resort. Adults-only means no kids peeing in the pool and a minimum age of 21 for the guests, but we did run into a small contingent of swinging couples who made the trip that much more story-worthy. I will get to that in a moment.

I should also inform you that I was accompanied by my teammate and radio show co-host Glenn January. I thought it would be a good idea to bring him in lieu of ever paying him again to do the Spin Zone with me on Monday nights. But he, for some reason, still thinks he deserves to receive his regular stipend. I will let you know the outcome of the pending arbitration hearing.

Back to Mexico.

It just so happened that the dates of our Cancun trip fell on one of the two weeks of American spring break, but you wouldn’t know it unless you left the resort, as the guests were predominantly Canadian, and of course, none were sweet-16ers.

The day we arrived was shortened due to the travel, but we still made it out to Carlos and Charlie’s for a bite to eat and a drink out of something called the “bazooka” — a four-litre cylinder that holds your favorite frosty cold beverage.

Monday began with some water basketball at the resort. Glenn’s team defeated mine, but I won the prize in the shooting competition after the game, and Glenn ripped the first of what would be three torn bathing suits.

Later on, our resort-assembled beach volleyball team set a near-record with nine consecutive wins in the King’s Court-style format, and we finished off the day with a visit to Señor Frog’s.

Tuesday was relatively uneventful during the day. Glenn went to mix and mingle with the locals in the heart of Cancun, but still made it back in time to rip another pair of swim shorts playing beach volleyball in the afternoon. Later that night, we went to Mexico’s version of Broadway theatre — Coco Bongo’s, which is essentially a number of look-alikes singing and performing Hollywood and music industry numbers. This would have been an enjoyable evening, save for the apparent lack of a fire code limiting the number of people the owners could pack into the audience. Glenn and I ended up in a reserved area — the only place we actually fit — but we were allowed to stay once we told security we were the Dallas Cowboys. As a Texan, Glenn knew the Cowboys get the run of the place in Mexico.

After the show, while we were waiting to take the bus back to the hotel (yes, Glenn may be the second coming of Milt Stegall when it comes to frugality), we met a destitute Australian tourist who had apparently spent his last peso and had no way back to his resort. After paying his bus fare, Glenn thought it would only be polite to introduce this young man to the ways of Houston and chewing tobacco. If you have ever tried chewing tobacco, you understand what happens the first time you try.

Wednesday was spent at Patty O’Brien’s, the only Irish pub in Mexico, and Thursday, our volleyball team — Team Suave — came second in a tournament won by the resort event staff, led by a man with so many piercings and barbells in his face we came to know him as Hellraiser. Thursday was also the first time in my 35 years I was asked if I was a swinger and propositioned. I said no, but if they wanted to take Glenn off my hands, I would be much obliged. No takers.

Friday was really the only night that ended with any tequila concerns. I now very much regret having Glenn introduce me to the Tequila Sunrise. Way too much sugar. After a cruise through the waterways around Cancun with about 50 fellow resorters, including two RCMP officers who became our good friends and security detail, somehow Glenn, to the delight of all the female patrons at Carlos and Charlie’s, ended up performing his best top-20 Dancing Gabe moves, while I paid a local $20 to wrap a nine-foot python around my neck as a photo op.

Of course, none of this could have happened without your participation and online votes. Thanks again for the memories, Winnipeg.

Doug Brown, always a hard-hitting defensive lineman and frequently a hard-hitting columnist, appears Tuesdays in the Free Press.