Adventures in Vacationing Part 2 - The Fine Art of Lounging

This is the second in my multi-part series about how hard I can vacation. The memories have gotten less hazy now and as each day passes I'm slowly piecing together the events that happened. There are still some unexplained bruises that I may never fully figure out how I got, but that just comes with the package of an awesome vacation.

Growing up in a single-parent, Mexican household I never took vacations like the ones I saw on TV shows. All of our family vacations were to visit family in Mexico or Arizona so staying at a hotel was reserved for that one time my mom got completely lost on the way and refused to drive the Arizonian desert at night any more. My mom always liked when a relative moved because it gave us a chance to visit someplace new. The idea of visiting a town where we did not have a relative whose house we could stay at was unheard of.

Just before my first trip to Las Vegas I had several relatives ask me who I was going to visit. "Vegas. I'm going to visit Vegas," I responded and received more than a few side-eye glances. "But do you know anyone there?" and "You're going alone?" were favorite follow-up questions. I did go alone, stayed at the New York, New York Hotel & Casino and ordered room service the first night I was there. I was an adult and I'd do as I damn well pleased with my hard-earned money. It was on this trip that I would meet the woman who would one day teach me the fine art of "lounging."

On my most recent vacation to San Diego I'd made plans to go around San Diego and see the sights with friends and family. All I managed to take in was the beautiful view from the side of the pool with my friend B. Saturday morning my plan was to see my friends B. and her husband A. and then head out for some sight-seeing. I should have known I wouldn't make it that far when I was greeted with champagne at 10:30 in the morning. Instead of going out to a brewery tour with A. and our other friends, B. and I decided we'd hang by the pool for a while and relax.

This turned into 8 hours of relaxing and were the absolute best hours I've spent that still involved me wearing some sort of clothes. Who knew that being able to pick up the phone to call Kurt at the front desk to have Frank bring us another bucket of Coronas and limes would be so goddamn amazing?

I really need to start investing in the lottery. After years of searching for the perfect career path I finally found it -- Professional Lounger. Granted this career doesn't pay much but the benefits are astounding! I could intertwine this with another similar career path, Professional Bruncher. I challenge you to find a crew that brunches harder than me and my Brooklyn Boos. Go ahead, I dare ya. You can look high and low but you won't find one.

As a way to subsidize the money I'd need for All-You-Can-Drink mimosas and an endless supply of suntan lotion I could tour the country giving lectures on how to properly lounge. I can set up shop at a learning annex and give panel discussions on how to conduct the perfect brunch. I'll write a series of books on lounging, brunching, and shenanigating. My book tour would be the perfect way to gain more experience and write the sequels: vacationing, dining and perfecting the art of the catwalk strut on the streets of your city.

Why don't guidance counselors let their students know about these types of careers? Lord knows they beat silly things like doctor and lawyer any day.