Nevertheless, the driver, the writer and I did manage to find one another. Everyone who landed in Los Cabos, it seemed, made a direct beeline out to ground transportation and stopped just short of the buses to pound their first frozen margarita.
#Youtube secrets cabo driver#
The instructions I had to find my driver and my travel companion, a fellow writer from Atlanta, seemed much simpler on paper than when I was trying to find a pair of strangers in the massive crowd that billowed out from around the airport bars. After touching down on the Baja peninsula and fighting my way through an aggressive crowd of timeshare salespeople cleverly disguised as tour guides, chauffeurs, and concierges, I had my doubts that this was the trip for me. Because while many consider it a “resort town”, it’s truly a treat for anyone who loves action, adventure, and beautifully prepared food. I also didn’t know that he would prove to be so totally wrong, not just in the way that exes usually are, but also about Cabo San Lucas. What I didn’t know then is that this man-this naysayer of Mexican resort towns-would not be a permanent fixture in my life and that a year after he departed, I would be invited to Los Cabos, Mexico to cover the Extreme Sailing Series. It seemed like a minor concession to make for love.
So I’ll never go to Cancun or Cozumel or the Mayan Riviera. I was dating an aspiring chef who let it be known that he couldn’t stand the prospect of sunning himself on a beach while munching bottomless baskets of chips and mild salsas, not when he could be bushwhacking through the interior jungle in search of Mayan ruins and authentic beverages like rompope. There was a brief time when I was almost certain that my life, however rich in travel, would never include a visit to a Mexican resort town.
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