While I missed the initial group departure, I wasn't far behind. Finally on the plane, I reflected back on my bittersweet last days in corporate America, marked by the launch of my final marketing campaign for an unamed social network, the use of words like "knowledge transfer" and "departure communication plan", and flip-flops, lots of flip-flops. Landing in PV, a sola, was like a dream come true, the busy mercados, gaggles of merchants and careening buses-of-imminent-death packed with a friendly people who humor my Spanish recollections like I humor the quasi-English utterances from my 1 year old nephew.
"Nic wanted me to tell you they're heading back," Jen told me within minutes of arriving in Sayulita. Hot and tired, I dumped my travel pack onto the floor. "He said Washington surf was better, and he could get more work done from Seattle. So they just took the last bus back to town."
My heart sank, "But, he hates the Washington surf. He flew all the way out here just to turn back around the day I get here?"
I questioned this so-called-vacation, looking at the stormy sea below as she tells me "Said he had to go back. He had no doubts you'd still find a way to have a fabulous time. I was going to go back with them, but thought someone should tell you where we'd gone. Anyway, I'm sorry, I gotta run too..." She vanishes.
I awake with a start. Palapa thatched walls turn to beige drywall. Pools of turquoise water evaporate into my brown-green lawn. Relief. It was just a nightmare. It's ok. I'm still in Seattle. It's ok? I'm still in Seattle?!
Ugh!!! I hit snooze and fall back to bed.
Just two days to freedom, four days to Mexico. Oh wait, this is a blog was about actually surfing Mexico, not dreaming...
Say hi to Jose!