Todos la cerveza.

League one, eh? Blimey.

Woke up nice and early, again. Hangovers appear to be in short supply, perhaps because they are indistinguishable from the dehydration which comes naturally from being in such a desperately hot place with a fan but no working aircon. Spent a while reading numerous articles, and round-ups of articles, about the AFC Wimbledon story and victory the previous day. Goose bumps are a good natural defence against the heat. Why aren't the fixtures out yet?

When we checked in, we'd been given 5 breakfast vouchers and told that on (or from?) the third day we'd not only be limited to the "American" breakfast - i.e., how do you want your eggs? - but have our choices expanded to include more Mexican options. The third day had of course been Monday, when I had American breakfast in bed. But today, eating in the restaurant, the extra choice was offered and we both opted for huevos rancheros, which was and always is the correct answer to how I want my eggs anyway.

Turns out our concept of huevos rancheros did not exactly match that of the Tropicana Inn. I was expecting, essentially, a burrito except with omelette instead of a tortilla. What we actually got was two fried eggs on a tortilla, covered in sauce, with some refried beans, a weak-ass chilli, and some nondescript queso.

Breakfast, and its setting.

It's not like this wasn't nice; it just wasn't what we expected. But it hit the spot, and we settled back into our routine: lay by the pool for a couple of hours, shifting loungers to chase the shade as the sun moves (yes, yes, I know).

Paco found a feather to play with.

The cleaners made a towel turtle.

And we did fuck all. I brushed off a few chapters of the Crazy Gang book, Helen went for regular dips in the pool between podcast episodes, and we drank our leftover Dos Equis. Another couple had lunch brought out to them by the pool which made us think, hang on, shall we get lunch brought out to us by the pool? But in the end, we didn't.

Mad dogs and Englishmen go out in the midday sun; we got better dressed and headed into the town during the most ridiculously oppressive heat of the day. Walking even 10 yards was a huge struggle, but Helen had spotted an antique bottle opener she wanted to buy and anyway it was our last day and there are still some great food places to try.

On our verrrry slow walk around some craft stores, we discovered she'd misremembered the bottle opener price by a factor of 5, so no dice there. A few things purchased in another shop, then a dismal failure to decide or agree on a lunch venue until we spotted the blackboard advertising La Patrona, open for lunch and 2 for 1 margaritas.

Definitely the most upscale place we ate on our trip, our hotel (which is pretty near the top of the range) included. The seating is all outdoors and after the waiter moved some shelters to ensure we were in the shade, he asked if we wanted something to drink. Yeah, those margarita things sound nice, could you knock us up a couple of those and make sure you carve the lime up so they resemble bulls emerging from the glass? Thanks mate.

We took in the local rag while tucking into some lovely nachos, waiting for our main course; beef burrito for me, cheese quesadillas with roasted vegetables (they'd run out of hongos) and a small side salad for Helen. Holy frijoles, this was possibly the nicest beef dish I've had in my entire life.

Articles written by wrestler homonyms for the win.

There are no other customers, but around 6 staff. Apart from the guy serving us, everyone else is sat around a table having a drink and a snack. Andy in the brewery had told us that this was not low season, but a shoulder season. Somehow, and it seems unrealistic, it does actually get emptier here.

Talking of the brewery, that was our next stop. It's just across the road and I want to go to the shop. We buy a hoodie, a bottle opener, and 4 bottles to open - 2 Raspberry Razz for Helen, and 2 different stouts for me. That's our evening sorted then. We're tailing off anyway, but have eaten lunch so late today that we're really. not sure if we can be arsed coming out later to try Jazmin's, the only other place left in town we really fancy. Besides, we've been put off by the guy employed to badger people in; all our best food has been in places which don't (need) to use such tactics.

As it goes, Mexico has not been totally what I expected. San José del Cabo is way way nicer than I'd anticipated. Having had the awful experience at the airport on Friday, with the tons of loud, brash, shouting guys attempting to con us into whatever accomodation or transport or real estate or tours or whatever the hell they wanted from us, I was expecting somewhere akin to many Asian or African locations - vast amounts of unwanted attention, a need to keep your head down, eyes straight and British politeness in check.

But actually, outside of the airport, everyone has been insanely friendly. The streetside guys hanging outside shops and restaurants, about whom I was just bitching, aren't even that much of a hindrance. "Hey, you finally made it!" is quite a funny refrain, and making eye contact or even saying "no, gracias" aren't a bad idea - the interaction finishes, there's no pressure. Maybe only two or three guys shouted a bit more, to try harder to tempt us in. Compare that with our brief time wandering the streets of Cabo San Lucas and we 100% chose the right place to stay around here.

Anyway. Back to the room and time to chill, get out of the heat, and play iPad games 'n that. Oh, and maybe spend a bit of time wondering whether we're going to go home tomorrow. Turns out there are massive thunderstorms all over Dallas and in particular in the DFW airport area. Loads of flights are delayed or cancelled, and while I'm browsing it updates to say that all flights heading towards Dallas that aren't already airborne are now being told to stop where they are.

I think this sounds like excellent fun. Helen is not quite so amused. She's wondering what's going to happen - will we even leave Cabo? If we do, will we get out of Dallas? Will they fly us somewhere other than London? What the fuck's going on? I try and convince her that a) stressing won't do any good b) it's fun c) American Airlines will sort us out one way or the other. They might fly us to PHX or LAX even, but regardless, it's an adventure. Who doesn't like the adventure of being stranded or subject to irregular operations due to inclement weather?

Anyway. Beer o'clock.

Honestly I had no clue before coming here that I would have access to so many types of stout and porter in Mexico. Though I had known there were at least two, because a) I had one in Sheffield the other week b) I'd known in advance about the brewery. Of course. And it was on our mind again, because we totally should have bought more than 2 bottles each. Come 8pm neither of us were hungry, but we still fancied a drink so, guess what? Oxxo, some diet coke and 6 cans of Dos Equis. And an ice cream! But, for some reason my credit card didn't work. It had done every other time this trip so far. What gives?

Back in the room, we have a fight with the aircon. Our room does have it, but the remote control seems to do almost fuck all. The only button which works is the "timer on" button, which beeps very loudly and increments a number on the display by half hour at a time. We leave it on half an hour and hey presto, one episode of Jeopardy! later on comes the machine. Unfortunately, the display says 25ºc on it. Grargh.

The TV is on partly for something to watch, partly to use it as a USB charger (the world's slowest USB charger, as it turned out). During Jeopardy! one of the rounds is "American 3 letter airport codes", in which I get everything right except the $2000 question which Helen gets. God damn it! And then on comes a US quiz show called 500 Questions.

One of the topics is "20th Century American Poetry" and I scoff at my own ignorance, saying fuck it, If he picks that I'm just gonna say Maya Angelou because it's all I know. Maya Angelous is, of course, the correct answer to the only question of that topic posed on the show. GO ME!

And then, well, nothing. That's it. Siri thinks I've said "Hey Siri" when I've actually said "Ancient history", but popping up like that makes me think, probably best to set an alarm. Hey Siri, wake me at 6.30am. We've got flights to catch.

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