Mr. Sancho’s is a all-exclusive resort located just a few miles from the port in Cozumel. It is not, like Chankanaab, an officially sponsored Carnival excursion, meaning you have to make your own reservations and arrange your own transportation to and from the resort. It also means that it’s nowhere near as crowded as Chankanaab. Transportation comes in the form of a taxi, and reservations are easily made online. Admission is $65/adult for the entire day, which includes all the food you can eat and all the drinks you can drink. More drinks than you should probably consume, in fact. Admission includes a private and reserved table, all day waiter service, access to the ocean, and several other activities.
On our first visit to Mr. Sancho’s a few years ago, the service was over-the-top. The story I like to tell is that our waiter brought us nachos while we decided what to eat, and a pitcher of margaritas while we looked through the drink menu. Our service was good this time, but not as crazy as it was the first time. Our waiter (“Eazy-E, or Easy for short”) brought us all the food and drinks we ordered, but unlike our first visit he didn’t stand next to our table at our beck and call, and sometimes we found ourselves waiting five or ten minutes for him to return. First world problems, I know.
Visitors are allowed to bring things like snorkels, but for those who forgot pretty much anything a person might want or need is either available for rent or being sold. A series of merchants sell sunglasses, shade hats, and souvenirs on the way in, while things like snorkels, fins, and floaties are available to rent by the hour.
While the August temperatures in Mexico were similar to Oklahoma’s, the 75% humidity was brutal. Rather than walk back and forth on the hot sand to reenter the ocean, we decided to relocate to a nearby pool, complete with with a swim-up bar. I introduced myself and Jeff to the bartender as “Roberto and El Jefe,” and before long he was mixing drinks we hadn’t ordered and summoning us to the var to retrieve them. Susan and Heather did their best to keep up. Susan and I quickly learned the bartender’s idea of a margarita was to fill a glass 90% full of alcohol, add a dash of flavor, and top it off with more alcohol. I wouldn’t have wanted to drive anything after one or two, but fortunately I was never asked to drive either the taxi or the cruise ship. Partway through the day I began doing “an impersonation of a stunt man,” where I would fall backwards off my stool into the pool. Susan says it stopped being funny after the first dozen times but what does she know?
At some point Susan had waded off to talk to other patrons and I was chugging yet another frozen drink when it happened — an unblended piece of ice from my drink fell directly into my windpipe. As intoxicated as I was, it only took me a few seconds to realize… I couldn’t breathe.
Now, being silly and pretending to be a stuntman for a while has a way of ruining your credibility. About the time I started frantically tapping Jeff on the arm, he heard me gasping for air.
“Are you okay?”
I shook my head frantically no.
“Are you choking?”
I shook my head frantically yes.
At this point Jeff scooted next to me and gave me a few good whacks on the back. I tried taking another breath in, but nothing was happening.
“Can you breath?” he asked again.
Not only was I still shaking my head no, but now I was starting to panic.
A few seconds later, Jeff was behind me in the pool giving me the Heimlich maneuver. After a couple of attempts, the piece of ice shot out of my mouth. It took me a full minute of gasping before I felt like everything was okay. To celebrate not dying, we ordered another round of drinks. A minute or two later, Susan returned and learned of my near death experience. When she asked if I was okay I fell off my stool into the water just like a stuntman. Party on!
After a long day of swimming and drinking and almost dying, it was time to grab a taxi and head back to the ship. One of Susan’s favorite things to do on the cruise ship is return early and watch the drunk people stagger their way up the pier as they return to the ship. That day, we were the staggerers.
Somehow, all of us made it back to the ship safely. And, three out of four of us made it back with our iPhones. I’ll save that story for another day.
You have a very good friend!