It started with the drive

 Set the scene: day three into a Puerto Rico girls trip. We are hungover. We have decided to drive from Old San Juan down to a beach called La Playuela. These locations are no where near each other, it will be an all day drive.

      We rented a car so we could explore the island, a decision I stand by, but my sister was driving, a decision I regret. It was a bumpy ride to say the least.

      We had many detours, some beautifil, like stopping by Yaucromatic and seeing the absolutley breathetaking public art exhibits. Some less beautiful, like stopping at a random gas station bathroom while my poor sweet cousin vomitted.

      All in all, an eventful ride.

      

      We drive through winding roads, refusing to take tolls out of principal. My sister fearlessly leading the way via GPS. We eventually make it to Cabo Rojo, a sweet town with many boutiques, and beautiful scenery. We make it about 20 minutes out from our intended beach when we realize, oh no, we have no towels.

      We turn around, heading back to the boutiques and make our purchase. Its about 4:00pm at this time, and the locals are asking us, “you’re going to the beach today?”. This should have been a sign, but we had driven all day! And the water looked beautiful!

      We drove to the beach.

      By the time we reach the beach, we realize the roads are a little bumpy, and by a little bumpy I mean giant pot holes that make it nearly impossible to drive. My sister and I are laughing hysterically. We pray for no flat tires. Outside the car windows, just on the other side of a wire fence we see the water. Its almost beach time!

      We reach a gate, with a gravel path, and we see people walking back towards their cars. We figure, “okay we just go the way that they came”. So we start walking.

      And walking.

      And walking.

      We think, “okay, this cant be right”, the smell of what I can only describe as horse sh*t (I grew up in farm lands, I know the smell) permeates the air, and “danger” signs litter the pathway. We type our destination in google maps and it tells us to keep on walking. Not one to shy away from an adventure, I keep walking, leading the way for my sister and my cousin, who wearily follow.

      After about 30 minutes of walking we see it! The sign! The beach is right there! I step off the path onto what looks like wet sand.

      Dear reader, I sink like a stone, down to my knee. I struggle. I fall forward with my other foot, sinking down to my thigh. Its warm and wet and I scream at the top of my lungs for my sister.

      I was holding my purse and my phone, my purse holds my wallet and the keys to our rental car. I throw it onto the dry path while my sister runs towards me. The more I struggle the more I sink. I think of Dora the Explorer and her instructions regarding quick sand (nevermind that this is mud), but I cant remember of the feeling of sinking lower and lower. My sister- a knight in shining bikini- grabs my arm and tries to yank me out. My flip flops are stuck, creating a suction into the mud. At this point I am nearly down to my hips. I hate to litter, but I can’t risk sinking further. I pull my feet out of my flip flops as my sister pulls and i go flying. I survived. My flip flops float to the top, torn and disgusting, a reminder of my error. My sister is cackling, my cousin is traumatized. I am covered in hot mud. I have no shoes. We are over a mile away from the car. We are over four hours from our hotel. I can’t help but laugh.

Moral of the story- do a little research about the beaches you go to. Make sure they dont have things like sinkholes, bring an extra pair of shoes, and always always be nice to your sister.