Jan. 23rd, 2011

I just spent four days in Monterrey, Nuevo Leon, Mexico. It’s been a full weekend. By ‘full weekend’ I do not mean that I had four days of magical, soul-enriching experiences that I can relate to my grandchildren someday. I hope my grandkids never find out about this weekend, especially if they’re girls. Because by ‘full weekend’ I mean that I have been in the presence of so much debauchery and dissipative living that Nero, were he along, would have begged out early for a quiet evening of TV and an early bedtime. I feel like I’ve just stepped out of a Rat Pack movie, if the Rat Pack were composed of actual rats. I have been in the presence of more drinking, womanizing, cussing, vomiting and all-around atrocious-being than most people do in their entire lives. And that was before we left the airport.

But despite that set-up, I’m not going to write about the actual badness. That might be fun for some to read, but it’s not what I want to write. Anyway, if you want to know what happened, just go and read some Tucker Max, or some Hunter S. Thompson. Nothing that happened this weekend would be out of place in the writings of those authors.

No, I’d rather write about some things that happened on each day of the weekend.

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