Sunday morning Sept 14, John, Robyn and I rolled into our fancy-pants hotel in Acapulco, Las Brisas. Although we probably didn’t *need* to stay in one of the top 3 hotels in Acapulco, this was our last hurrah before I started work and after all, one never knows when one will get back to Acapulco! So we splurged on the Pink & White Wonder (the theme colors of the resort), with our own private pool outside the door of our room.
Clearly the question on that front is– was Las Brisas worth the ~$300 a night? Our vote is– if you are interested in a complete get-away, where you don’t really need to leave your hotel room at all & just lounge around your private pool (sipping the $7 tequila + Squirt that you smuggled in), then yes.
Pro reasonings include–
- it is certainly a unique, high-rent, flashback-to-the-50’s experience
- the beach club down on the water is amusing with a pool + a couple salt water swimming areas which offer easy entertainment watching people step on crabs & yelp in surprise
- the private pool makes a great space for a private dance party w/your Ipod
- fairly close to the Über-trendy mammoth clubs on the main drag
- since you’re probably being lazy & can’t be bothered to hike up the mountainside, you have to wait for the jeeps to come and drag you around everywhere & a van to drag you down to the beach club
- prices for food/drink are (unsurprisingly) steep, & reasonably priced food options are slim-to-none
- they promise you a magical breakfast through a secret passageway in the wall, but the breakfast is light on tasty, unhealthy pastries & heavy on not-so-tasty papaya
- can’t walk anywhere, and taxis in Acapulco are pretty spendy
Anyway, we had a lovely time lounging about during the day Sunday, being whisked to a random faraway restaurant for dinner after naively asking the cabbie “well, we were thinking about place X, but what do you recommend?”, and having a few beers in a wacky pirate-themed bar where we encountered a waiter with the largest bubble-butt on record. (got you beat, Steve)
We also saw the Acapulco Hooters, whose sign strongly promoted its home delivery service. I thought this was the funniest thing ever, because let’s face it; Hooters isn’t exactly *known* for its food. Why you would want to eat cold, slimy chicken wings in the privacy of your own home without even any busty girls to stare at is beyond me, because somehow I am guessing that the delivery person is not showing up at your door dressed in micro-shorts and a tank-top & waiting to be sexually harassed. I am fascinated to know how successful Hooter’s Home Delivery service is.
Monday brought another day of lounging at the Beach Club until our efforts were thwarted by rain, so we retired to our room. The weather cleared but we were too lazy to make the jeep-to-van trek down to the water, so we initiated a tequila and 80’s music-fueled party at our private pool…with just the 3 of us… There may have been some karaoke/air guitar involved. Anyway, suspicions began to grow that we might all crash and burn, since as around-30-somethings, our ability to get drunk in the afternoon and then go out at night has decreased… HOWEVER, in a burst of dedication to celebrate El Grito (Mexican Independence Day), we all showered up & headed out to dinner.
We found a restaurant down in the thick of things & had a nice Mexican dinner at El Cabrito where we were able to watch a bit of the official “El Grito” on the TV, and also watch the ‘goat cooker’ grill carcasses on spits over a large fire. Then we rallied up to go celebrate at one of THE CLUBS of Acapulco– Palladium. We jump in a taxi and promptly find ourselves in standstill traffic outside of this clump of the three über-clubs, so we jumped out and very un-fresa-ly hoofed it up the steep driveway to find a crowd of Mexicans standing outside the rope. Luckily apparently us three stunning Amercans passed the “threating eye of the bouncer” test, and made it inside to be graced with luxurious Palladium-branded goods. And by ‘branded’, I mean, ‘written on with a black permanent marker’. We scored 3 sombreros, 3 festive handkerchiefs, and about 9 mini-clay-pot-like shot glasses full of tequila among the 3 of us.
The inside of the club was not what I expected, with a fairly small dance floor against the middle of a massive wall of windows with a stunning view of Acapulco Bay. Then in a semi-circle around the dance floor, there were tiered floors of tables & chairs, almost a bit like an over-sized cabaret venue. Apparently everyone else got the memo about reserving a table in advance, as there were essentially no tables left to sit at (which is what everyone does at bars/clubs here). Robyn worked her magic though, and got one of the waiters to offer up the fact that “his friends had some space at their table” and promptly led us over to a teeny table with 2 guys and 1 girl (who was CLEARLY displeased with our arrival). Unconcerned, we donned our sombreros for some photos while listening to the inital foray of classic Mexican folk songs.
Highlights of the evening included:
* COCK FIGHTING. Yes that’s right, at Acapulco’s trendiest club, everyone stopped chatting and gathered ’round the dance floor to watch TWO MEN HOLDING COCKS er ROOSTERS, walking briskly around in circles, pausing, setting the roosters on the dance floor, letting them peck at each other briefly, and then repeat. Fascinating
* Lassoing. One dude with a frigging-huge lasso, also on the dance floor. Check.
* The crappiest techno DJ I’ve heard in a while. I love techno music, but this guy kept making the looongest mixes that I have ever heard of techno songs from like 5 years. Just when the song would start fading down & you were ready for the next one to start up, it would get louder again WITH THE SAME SONG.
* People who dance WORSE than I do. I mean, let’s be honest, I am horrible dancer, but somehow even I felt like I had better moves than the 37 people on the dance floor.
* And on that note– no one on the dance floor– WTF?? Everyone was hanging around their tables on the various tiers, chair dancing or dancing in place. This is a techno club, people!! Go dance!!!
* Excessive lighting. Whoever was controlling the lighting (which to its credit was at least heavy on the green lasers), didn’t understand that no one really WANTS to be able to clearly see the people they’re dancing with at a nightclub. Let people at least have the HOPE that they found a total hottie. Instead, they kept flashing the lights at random intervals during the songs, but then would sloooooowly turn them back down after like 10 seconds. At least long enough for me to stop dancing because I realized everyone could see me clearly.
* Fantastic people watching with some of the sluttiest outfits I’ve seen in recent memory. Guys, take note.
* Commoners on the podiums. Usually hot clubs have slutted-up girls dancing on the podiums to help, er, inspire people to dance. Here, for the first hour or so after the DJ came on, one of the podiums was graced by two somewhat-dumpy kids in sweat pants & t-shirts who looked about 17 and who didn’t appear to feel even slightly out of place. Eventually they were replaced by half-naked girls who also looked about 17, but for at least a good hour, the dumpy kids had their moment in the sun (or in this case, lasers).
In summary, good times were had by all at Palladium, even if we did wuss out early (3 AM) because the bad music/dancing was simply more than we could handle… Luckily this meant we had enough energy the next day to take some strategic photos of the high level of security in the rooms at Las Brisas. The little window you see next to the door is the secret entry point where the staff magically leaves your coffee & breakfast each morning. However, we had a good chuckle after observing that when missing a small interior latch, the magical breakfast nook became a hilarious vehicle for breaking and entering. Observe John’s stealth maneuvers below.