Adventures in PV and the Sage Advice of Strangers

Got back from Puerto Vallarta on Tuesday.  Had a great time with our good friends Tod and Ann York as always.   For the most part the time was focused on relaxation on the beach with plenty of Mimosas.   

However, the very first night we found ourselves at Andales, a cool spot in old town PV.   We'd had a nice "first evening" dinner and stopped in for a beer or two - you know, with that just-arrived--this-vacation-will-last-forever anticipation of good times to come.  We sat down and started having a great time and one thing led to another and before you know it...My Anne had consumed two drinks.   yes, the second drink got by me. 

The first warning sign was Anne stood up and kind of started dancing around a bit by her chair (they had GREAT music).   That made me twitch a bit, but when I saw the two empty glasses in front of her the hair stood up on the back of my neck, and I knew what was coming next.

Dancing.

My wife is a very happy (but very infrequent) drunk, if one can in fact get drunk on two drinks.   But once the dancing starts...

I'm a terrible dancer and always have been.   Awkward, no rhythm, no moves (not even lame ones like Seth Rogan's dice role in knocked up).   I have largely blacked-out  memories of dance lessons and other efforts to amend this situation.   Anne loves to dance so i get guilted into it. 

Sure enough, Anne grabbed me and out to the COMPLETELY EMPTY "dance floor" (small space where no table happened to be located, at the apex of all bar operations traffic).   I looked back plaintively over my shoulder at Tod and Ann.

She kept me out there for two songs, and then I managed to drag her back to our table - a task a little tougher than normal, I noted.  Whew.   Thank God that was over.   I sat in recovery, but uncomfortably noted out of the corner of my eye that Anne was still moving around next to her chair.   Don't look.  Don't look.     I tried to ignore this and engaged in some small talk with the Yorks.

Poke.  Poke.  Poke.  (What is this?  Someone's poking me in the ribs.   Oh lord it's her.)

Oh no.   

Only a few times in our 28 years had this happened.  She wasn't going to stop.  I found myself again dragged, apologizing to those mowed down, to the dance postage stamp.   This time she kept me out there for 3 songs.   At least a couple or two took mercy and joined us.   Anne was having a grand old time.   She even complemented me on leading her around (a misinterpretation of my desperate efforts to pull her out of the way of the serving staff and other patrons).    At one point - no kidding - there was a donkey on the dance floor as well.

Exhausted, I finally got her back to our seats - but it wasn't easy.   

pokepokepokepokepokepokepoke

As I got up, the bemused couple at the next table offered up, "You've got your hands full there, buddy!"      "You don't' know the half of it, friends" I returned.    "There she goes", the young lady said, pointing.   I hustled to catch up with my little dancing queen.

Finally i just gave in.  Anne's so happy when she's a little lit and dancing.   By the time the place was really hopping, the security of dancing masses gave me more cover.

On the way back to the table the for the last time, I had an interesting interaction with an obviously local Puerto Vallartan, who grabbed my arm as I passed by.

"Watch heem."   the man said mysteriously with a somewhat thick accent. 

"Watch who?"  I asked.

"You must watch heem!"  the man replied, nodding toward my friend Tod's back.  "He has much to drink."

Now admittedly, I had missed much of Tod and Ann's evening with all the goings on with the dancing, but I was pretty sure that we were only talking a beer or two, and Tod's tank is considerably roomier before you'd notice anything. 

I smiled at the gentleman and moved on.   At the end of this very fun first evening, as we headed home, however, I did indeed watch heem just in case.