Like a lot of other resort destinations in Mexico, Cancun looks at the American tourist, his newly purchased short pants bursting with American currency, and asks: how can we bleed this bastard completely dry?
From the minute you are cleared to come into this country, hucksters and pitchmen of every sort and description are attempting to sell you something...ANYTHING...to get your money. Today, it's travel. Resort tours...hotels...attractions...and that most precious of commodities (to us), transportation.
Thankfully, our travel agent has already arranged a transfer for the four of us from the Airport to the Sun Palace all-inclusive resort where we'll spend the next ten days. Good thing, too...because between buses that I am pretty sure were used to haul Montezuma's men two centuries ago (and have the missing doors and windows to show for it) and the cabbies who got their careers by painting the word "Taxi" on the side of whatever four-wheeled motorized contraption they could dig up, "getting there" can be as much an adventure as the tours they want you to buy.
Our transfer does not go completely without incident: it takes nearly 30 minutes to get off the platform and into the Best Day Tours van. Bear in mind: the temperature and humidity combined make today feel like 106 degrees...and I'm a fat guy! Thanks to my bro, the lone participant in the native Spanish language, we're taken very good care of on the way. Once we're actually on the way.
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