“What were you daydreaming about?” Jackie asks just before sticking a guacamole-filled tortilla chip into her mouth.
My stomach rumbles again and I reach for a chip of my own, opting to dip it in the pico de gallo salsa instead of guacamole. Before stuffing the chip in my own mouth, I answer, “The beach.” I pause to chew and swallow my chip. “It’s so beautiful. I was supposed to come here a few years ago with my boy … myex-boyfriend, Matt.”
“What happened?” Shawna questions.
I shrug. “He canceled, said he had work obligations he couldn’t leave behind.” I leave out the part when just two weeks later he took a four-day trip to Greece with a group of his college friends.
I glance up from my thoughts to see the other two women are engaged in talking to one another about their own exes, while Tracey continues to stare at me. Something tells me she is the most intuitive of the group.
“And you didn’t come by yourself?”
I shake my head. “No, I never even thought of it. Not until now.”
“So what changed?” Tracey inquires.
Squirming a little in my seat, I take another chip. This time not because of hunger but to occupy my mouth while I decide how much of my business I want to divulge to this practical stranger.
Once I swallow the chip, I say, “Because I finally broke up with him once and for all, am moving to a new city and changing careers. I thought it was time I did some traveling on my own for once.”
“Heyyy!” Tracey and the other women cheer at my response.
“We definitely need to toast to that!” Lisa waves over our waitress and requests a round of margaritas.
I find myself relieved at the women’s responses and I happily clank glasses with them once our drinks arrive, even though I usually abstain from alcohol. By the time our food arrives, we are two drinks in, and Rose makes sure to tell the waitress to keep them coming.
I gleefully indulge in the deliciously grilled shrimp and vegetables with authentic Mexican rice and beans in some kind of sauce. The food is decadent but light at the same time, and the drinks continue. It seems whenever I reach the bottom of my glass one of the women is already filling it up thanks to the pitcher we’ve ordered. Somewhere in the back of my mind, my more reserved side is screaming at me to remind me of the dangers of possibly being roofied in a foreign country, or falling down somewhere with my dress above my waist, a stranger taking a picture and embarrassingly I end up all over the internet as a meme of “what not to do while in Mexico”.
But as I glance around the table and notice the women I’m with indulging and laughing, having a great time, I decide to throw caution to the wind. In all of my twenty-eight years on the planet, I’ve rarely taken time to indulge, let go, and just have fun.
“Oh, man, I’m stuffed,” I say, patting my belly as I sit back in the chair. “I know I’ve definitely eaten more carbs than are necessary today.” I frown as I look down at my plate at the few remnants of the rice and beans.
“Who gives a shit about carbs? We’re on vacation! Plus, we’re going to work off all of this food dancing,” Jackie cheers.
Minutes later we’re paying the waitress for our dinner and opting to exit through the restaurant's front entrance to walk down the sidewalk to the nightclub, instead of the beachside since we all have heels on. We pass a number of partygoers, likely most of whom are on spring break. The energy is a little intoxicating, but even so, my nervousness about dancing begins to crest yet again. I’m not a great dancer without heels. Add to that the number of drinks I had at dinner, and I am feeling off kilter already.
“All right, ladies,” Tracey begins after we’ve all paid the entrance fee and gotten our hands stamped. “Let’s order another round. This time, tequila!” she shouts. “Jackie, you grab us a table,” she insists.
I follow Jackie while Shawna, the fourth and most quiet member in our party, follows Rose and Tracey to help carry the drinks over to the table. Lisa finds us a table a few feet from the dance floor, but quiet enough that conversation is still an option.
“You ever salsa dance before?” Jackie questions.
I shake my head. “You?”
Smiling, she happily nods. “I’m a dance instructor full-time.”
“Really? Salsa dancing?”
“I started in ballet, which I still do, along with salsa, tap, jazz. My students range in age from toddler to young adult so I get a pretty good mix at the studio.”
“You own your own studio?”
“Yup,” she proudly responds.
“Cool.” I admire her striking out to own a business. She continues to share a little bit about her schooling all the way up until she just got burned out with professional dance and decided to leave the big city and return to her hometown to open her studio.
“Here ya go!” Rose says as she bounces over, and places shots of tequila on the table.
Tracey, Rose, Shawna, and Jackie quickly down their drinks and then pin me with their expectant gazes. Hesitantly, I reach for the shot, lifting it to my nose, sniffing it first before putting it to my lips. Then I make the decision to down it as quickly as possible as to not taste it. But no such luck; within seconds the burning in my throat is causing me to cough and gag.
