Seemed Like A Good Idea at the Time...

After cocktails at sunset on a rooftop bar known as El Nido (above the restaurant Chez Elena), Ann and I teetered our way down a steep hill to the town below. (I say teetered not as a reflection of our state of sobriety but because that’s what walking in Puerto Vallarta is all about). Tonight, we decided we’d eat at one of those restaurants south of the Rio de la Cuale that feature “on the sand” dining.

La Margarita was the first one we came to. Softly lit palm trees hovering over tables set halfway between the boardwalk and shoreline instantly charmed us. By the time we’d ordered filet mignon for Ann and snapper for me, we were basking in the atmosphere and listening to a group of Mariachis sing “El Relos.”

Then, near disaster struck.

I heard Ann shriek, “Feet up!” and as I watched my camera bag float away, we realized either the tide was coming in or an unreported earthquake had occurred somewhere.

Undaunted, we dug into our meal and merely raised our feet whenever it seemed prudent.

Eventually, another balladeer joined us--this time, a handsome young man from Venezuela. Since I didn’t know any songs from his country, I asked him to sing his favorite. With one eye on the encroaching surf and the other on the fingers strumming his guitar, the poor guy gamely began his song.

Alas, it was not to be.

This was above and beyond "feet up."

The next thing we knew, we were standing on the boardwalk, looking back at overturned chairs and two waiters hauling our table out of the surf.

Hmm. Kinda made us wonder about those “softly lit palm trees” we’d been sitting under. And exactly whose electrical standards they were wired to….