Has Anyone Seen My Pants? Read Online Free PDF

him.
    “ Hola! Tú hablas español? ”
    “ Un poquito ,” I replied.
    Then he rattled off something I couldn’t keep up with and I interrupted him: “ Muy poquito ,” I said apologetically. But people in Cabo are very accommodating to travelers from the United States. Almost everyone there speaks English, at least at the resorts, so when I am there I can continue to be a lazy visiting American who pays for stuff in US dollars.
    “ No problema ,” he laughed. “You have someone joining you?”
    Jesus Christ.
    “Nope, just me!” I said for the one hundredth time.
    “Jus you?”
    “Jus me!” What is this, fucking Groundhog Day ?
    The busboy looked at me with what I am positive was pity while he began to clear the other place setting at the table. And he was making a pretty big scene about it, clanging glasses and bread plates together like it was his job—which I guess technically it was, but still.
    I took a deep breath and looked back out at the ocean. The waiter approached and asked me what I wanted to drink.
    “Margarita, rocks, no salt,” I replied.
    “Okay. You have someone joining you?” he asked.
    What. The. Fuck.
    “No, I don’t have anyone joining me,” I snapped. I was losing my patience. “See how there is only one place setting here? The busboy took the other one away because I am dining alone. So . . . one margarita, quickly, por favor .”
    The waiter nodded and walked away, looking slightly confused.
    Another waiter then approached my table, holding a basket of bread.
    “You need more plate for bread?” he asked.
    “No, one is fine,” I replied curtly.
    “Nobody else es coming?”
    “What?”
    “No fren is coming?” he asked.
    “What? Yes, a friend is coming. She’s just not here yet. Can I please have that bread?” It was as if he was holding it hostage.
    The waiter stared at me blankly.
    “I have a friend coming tomorrow. She missed her plane today because she was in a terrible car accident. The other person died and everything. But she’ll be here tomorrow, so if it makes you feel better, you can bring another plate then.”
    The waiter set the basket of bread down and hurried away without saying a word.
    That should take care of that. I smiled to myself proudly.
    Finally my margarita arrived, with yet another waiter carrying it.
    Jesus, how many fucking people work at this place? I wondered.
    “Hola , ” the fortieth waiter said as he set my drink down. “You ready to order or you wan to wait for you fren?”
    “Seriously?”
    “So you wan to wait then for you fren?”
    “I don’t have a ‘fren’ coming tonight , ” I yelled, my patience now totally gone. “I’m dining alone. My friend will be here tomorrow. I just want to eat.”
    “So . . . only uno ?” he asked.
    “What ? ” I yelled.
    “Only . . . uno ?”
    “Yeah, only uno . FUCKING UNO . UUUUUUUUU-NO. Uno, Uno, Uno, UNO! FUCK!” I suddenly realized I was now standing.
    “Oh-kay,” he said, and ran away without taking my order.
    A few seconds later the second waiter returned to take my order. Clearly the third waiter was too afraid to come back. Iordered a steak and made a point of looking at my phone and laughing often, just to make everyone else feel at ease that I did in fact have friends, that those friends were texting me, and that their texts were hilarious .
    I finished my meal rather quickly, signed the bill, and darted back to my room with a full margarita in hand. Immediately putting on my bathing suit, I lit some candles, and hopped into the infinity pool.
    Ah, peace. Peace and silence. Nobody was asking me why I was alone, but I was and it was glorious. Uno. The moon cast an amazing light over the ocean and relaxation finally started to creep back in. That is, until I thought about how I’d had like ten margaritas by now and could possibly drown. In a hotel room. Alone. UNO. I climbed out of the pool, toweled off, and got into bed. I wasn’t going to go out like that. Plus,