My wife and I just returned from our first-ever destination wedding. It was held at an all-inclusive resort in Puerta Vallarta. We had previously stayed at an all-inclusive, but that had been a far different experience.
At that place, we were forced to wear wristbands. Our currency was worthless, and our room number replaced our names. We felt like we were losing our identities. Plus, the resort was surrounded by a wall. Outside the wall was dense jungle, so escape was futile.
After settling in our room, we crossed the exercise yard to the mess hall. The buffet was bountiful but bland. I’ve had spicier nachos at the Forest Park Aquatic Center. The resort also had a pool with submerged barstools. We instead tried cooling off in the Caribbean but there were so many fish, it was like swimming in an aquarium.
The resort staff were smartly dressed in uniforms, while many of the guests lacked large sections of their swimsuits. I was assigned to a work crew building sandcastles. The work was exhausting in the blistering sun, with incoming waves forcing me to rebuild sections over and over.
The only thing that kept me going were the tropical drinks. I drank one after another until I sank into a pina colada coma. Every morning, we were ordered to report to the excursion director. She offered us opportunities to escape but they were very pricey.
Day after day, we endured the tropical heat, sometimes having to shift our lounge chairs to stay in the shade. At night, we were forced to march to restaurants, some of which were 15 minutes away.
One time after dinner, we returned to our room and found — this is not for the faint of heart — the room hadn’t been cleaned. I made a panicked call to the front desk to demand more beer and fresh towels. I fell asleep mumbling, “cerveza fria, mas cerveza fria.”
I was losing my language and yearned to escape. We paid the excursion woman a lot of money to leave the resort for a nearby golf course. I didn’t care what it cost if it meant getting off the sandcastle crew.
For the wedding, on the other hand, we stayed at a much nicer resort. It had spectacular views of the mountains, the jungle and the sea. It was surrounded by a wall, but we had no desire to escape. If we left our room for even a short time, it was cleaned, with a fresh supply of towels.
It had a festive atmosphere with food, music and drinks everywhere we went. We enjoyed a lovely rehearsal dinner and listened to heartfelt speeches by parents and friends. The wedding was held at the beach. Everyone was well-dressed and the bride was gorgeous.
We had time to lounge at the pool, where the smiling staff members brought us drinks and whatever snacks we desired. Finally, the wedding guests boarded a catamaran and went whale watching. We even swam off the boat. Some complained that the water was cold, but it was bathwater compared to Lake Michigan.
Like the other guests, we used the destination wedding for a vacation. It was the third wedding for my niece — all involving the same groom, all within a short time span. They first had a civil ceremony, followed by a lavish church wedding. The resort wedding cemented the deal.
We were treated so well at the resort; we hope to return there some day. The staff kept it immaculate and indulged our every whim.
On the last day, a staff member didn’t ask for my room number. He knew my name.
