After taking a leisurely stroll up from the beach and past their condo-style bungalows, my hubby decides to detour to their lovely washroom, so I take a seat on one of the benches that lines the walking trail, with my two girls seating themselves on either side of me. Keep in mind, there is NO ONE around. Not a single sole. We’re simply walking down this path surrounded by landscape and flanked by a two-storey building of rooms and a dream-like shanty with linen-coloured curtains tacked to each of the four posts.
Out of no-where, a golf cart comes flying toward us, like a bat out of hell. A handsome Spanish security man leaps from his post, approaches me menacingly and promptly asks:
“How old are you?”
I’m like: What the hell? I’m clearly old enough to be drinking, which I hadn’t been, much. But I had my two children with me, both obviously close to their double digits, and I probably had a couple of years on him to boot.
“My age?” I ask, wondering if I didn’t understand his English properly. Seriously, I was stunned.
“Yes. How old are you?” he repeats, with a rather attractive accent that tells me English is barely his second language.
“Um. 34?” I answer, posing it more like a question than anything.
My oldest daughter whispers to me, horrified by my response. “No, Mom! You’re 33!”
Haha. Oops. “I’m 33,” I correct, snickering to myself and a little happy to hear it.
He doesn’t look amused in the slightest. Nor does he understand my English. “33?” he repeats.
“Yep. My birthday’s next week,” I explain, hoping he’ll understand the confusion. He doesn’t, but at least he looks good doing it.
While he doesn’t get my language, I don’t get that it’s a rather luxurious ADULT ONLY resort. Bahaha. Yay for possibly being mistaken as a teenager?!
Next he states, with a rather forceful undertone:
“Come with me if you want to live.”
I stall and admit that I have to wait for my husband who is graciously using his immaculate facilities. Darn, I pout, I really want to go with him! Smirk.
Eventually the handsome man escorts me, my girls, and my equally as stunned hubby, in a much more friendly manner once my man arrives, to the edge of their property and kindly instructs us to refrain from entering their property again.
The moral of the story is: DO NOT walk twenty minutes up the beach and at random enter through a beach path, even if you can see the lit tower to which you are headed. My bad! Or is it? I’d do it again in a heartbeat. 😛
Another valid point is that once you hit 30 you start to lose your mind. Apparently I can’t even remember my own age! I calculated it on a whim and was a week off. Lol. Oops. My daughter’s young mind had no problem remembering how old I am. See? Losing it! That’s why I write everything down.
This is just one of many fun, exciting and hilarious experiences I had while on my vacation in Cuba last week. I’m here to tell you I had a complete blast. My whole family did. I’m hoping to share more with you in the future.
*** Note to the multiple parties from Windsor, Ontario, who recorded me on stage with my Latin Lover at the Memories Theatre in Cayo Santa Maria, Cuba. Yes, I saw the red lights flashing while you video recorded me and my black panties. Please send me a copy of the video and remove it from your devices immediately!!!
Now you know where I get my ideas from. Hahaha. Want to read more about my escapades with a little fiction tacked on for good measure? Twisted is only $0.99!
Have you ever travelled to Cuba or been mistaken for a MUCH younger age than you were? Tell me about your experience!