Drinking Puerto Vallarta, Day II

On Sunday, we started the evening at Murphy’s and then moved on to a Cuban Bar where

we drank a variety of crazy Cuban cocktails. Dark rum, light Rum, Infused Rum, flavored rum. Shit. We drank a lot of rum. And in the process, we struck up a conversation with a crazy Canadian who was spending a solo vacation away from the cold January in Nova Scotia. He was funny and smart and entertaining. I think. Honestly, I can’t remember anything about him except that I don’t know if any of us ever paid for a drink. What I do know is that when Jackie and I stumbled out of the bar, we found a cab right around the corner and immediately got in. At that exact same moment, the waiter from the Cuban bar came running after us yelling “WHO GOING TO PAY FOR THOSE DRINKS?”

I rolled down the window and yelled toward the waiter “That Canadian guy,” as I pointed back toward the bar.

“What do you want me to do?” the cab driver asked, sounding not one bit concerned.

“Go!”

And he did. Fast.

Here’s the funny thing about the streets of Puerto Vallarta. They’re all made of true cobblestone and they are very narrow, with very high curbs (about 14 inches (35cm)). So, when you peel out like Jim Rockford, you don’t actually peel out. You bounce. From side-to-side.

So here there we were. Drunk. With a wild man as a cab driver, fishtailing our way through the streets of PV with a pissed-off Cuban waiter running after us yelling “WHO GOING TO PAY FOR THOSE DRINKS? WHO GOING TO PAY FOR THOSE DRINKS?” with the rear bumper of the cab scraping against the curbs on both sides of the street and, at one point, hitting a parked car.

He returned us to our hotel in one piece and we tipped him handsomely. Best cab driver ever