Puerto Vallarta

12. January, 2009 | by John Moroney

Mexico rocks. I sincerely apologize to all other nationalities, living or dead, for all American tourists, living or dead. The majority of us (Norte Americanos) are really fucking ugly, unbelievably rude, and incredibly fat.

I am so, so sorry.

I also find that I have to apologize for Canada, as well. Being that I can throw a rock from my front door and hit Vancouver, I feel a certain responsibility for my super-polite neighbors of The Great White North. I mean really, Canada, we may suck, but we’re Americans—we’re supposed to. You all are supposed to be sophisticated, worldly, and friendly. What, if I may ask, the fuck happens to you all south of Texas?! Is it the equatorial light that boils your poor frozen, sun-starved brains into a mushy, tequila-sodden festival of dickhood? You, Canada, are the worst expats on the planet. The uber-politesse becomes arrogant smugness, your almost European flair becomes rampant white liberalism. If you promise to check your attitudes a bit, I promise to work non-stop to make the average American tourist less of a completely fucking retarded asshole. Oh, and for the record, the North Americans to the south of us (read: U.S.) kick Canada’s ass in all-around, daily geniality.

And my camera is missing. While I’m sure it’s on a plane bound for God knows where, perhaps someone could send me the data card out of it. I have to pay for this trip somehow, you know.

And seriously, America—you are STILL the most powerful country on the planet. Stop being such a dick overseas! That cocksucker Bush is out in two weeks. It’s time for us to represent a country of which we are proud of being a part. If you can’t drop the weight, perhaps you could at least try being respectful of the rest of the world.

The South Africans I met were wonderful. The Australians were as perfect abroad as they are in their own country. The American expat couple that hosted my wife and I twice were incredibly charming. And the Mexicans? Wow. Once the people I met warmed up, and please remember that Puerto Vallarta is dripping with the worst of the United States, I realized an incredibly deep sense of family and friends that I haven’t seen outside of my grandparents.

Go eat at La Quinta del Sol and talk to Ernesto. If I can ever find the camera, I’ll post pictures of his Pug, Vodka. That was the finest restaurant experience and worth the entire trip. It’s off San Salvador in the 5 Diciembre barro.