I definitely was older, but whether I was wiser is open for debate. My last spring-break excursion of this sort was seven years ago. I was younger and stronger.
My priorities were different…and so was Cancun.
The beachside magnet for drunken, horny, high school and college kids who are given a respite from the drudgery of preparing for the rest of their lives was a reminder of nature’s power. Parts of Cancun were still missing from the hurricane; parts of it were hastily thrown back together to accommodate frat boys with trust funds and sorority girls promising each other that “what happens in Cancun, stays in Cancun.”
Just wait until they get to Vegas.
As I am past my “pouring tequila down an acquaintance’s throat while she kneels beneath me” days, I found my Webmaster Access Cancun (March 15 through 18) days fit me just fine.
It was a sensible gathering, or, as sensible as a gathering like this can get. Where the 18-year-old spring breaker isn’t yet keen to things like sunscreen, not drinking before noon, and condoms, a few of us in the adult industry crowd were older and wiser.
Not to say there weren’t folks going to bed as the sun came up. I mean, hell, half of the OCCash crew was in town.
Most of the time the doctor prescribed heavy doses of lying in the sun, sampling the local cuisine, and keeping the bartender running in circles to concoct one Miami Vice after another. All or most of this was courtesy of SilverCash, SexSearch, WEGCash, Epoch, ePassporte, and AWEmpire. Not to mention the Adult.com/GFY crew, who put the event together.
Some of the time the prescription called for Grey Goose, dancing, live performances, music, and laughing at stupid kids who will do just about anything for a Corona T-shirt. How wonderful it is to have located the self-control button.
Once in a while the prescription doled out something like scuba diving, horseback riding, or late-night powwows on a balcony overlooking the surf.
I really don’t know what this all adds up to, but perhaps the photo of event organizer and GFY marketing guru Eric Matis cutting the “ribbon” to christen the just-completed restaurant where we ate on opening night sums it up best: None of this is really too serious.
We do what we do. We are loved by the few, reviled by the many. We thumb our noses at most, and we go to Cancun and party like 19-year-old sorority girls with daddy’s American Express card when we goddamn well feel like it.
