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After-Action Report, Victory, May 8-11, 2014

HeyYouKidsGetOffMyLawn
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loubetti

loubetti

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Ya, it says, P A R K I N G. Hahahahaha!

 

Okay, mea culpa, THIRD LINK! I forgot he had a first one well above the other two, which were one after another.

 

So, now, ZOOM IN to the sign along the street!:rolleyes:

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Katmarha

Katmarha

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We are going on a 7 day for his Birthday in September...I'm sure that one will be just as amusing. :)

 

Mrs. KidsGetoffmylawn

 

Sent from my SAMSUNG-SGH-I717 using Forums mobile app

 

From the way this post is going, "Kidsgetoffmylawn" is going to be a board favorite!!!

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Sunburns

Sunburns

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Okay, mea culpa, THIRD LINK! I forgot he had a first one well above the other two, which were one after another.

 

So, now, ZOOM IN to the sign along the street!:rolleyes:

 

I wish my p was Caribbean blue, too :rolleyes:

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HeyYouKidsGetOffMyLawn

HeyYouKidsGetOffMyLawn

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To avoid any confusion, the entire educational section of the upcoming tour would fit easily into the backyard of a house in a new suburban neighborhood. Yet another nightmarish landscape with houses packed side-by-side closer than the legal limit for a trailer park and painted one of the four neutral colors approved by the iron-fisted HOA.

 

The story-line he’s selling us: This is an accurate portrayal of the actual process practiced for the last hundred years by the highly respected (mumble) family distillery in the highlands of Jalisco. They make tequila the old fashioned way, yadda yadda yadda.

 

And it’s a collection of sad displays.

 

The single (he freely admitted it’s not “Weber Blue”, but a relative) agave plant looks like a freshly planted aloe vera, barely more than a foot tall.

 

The “authentic stone-lined fire pit” for baking the harvested agave hearts was full of garbage, twigs and discarded Oxford commas.

 

The “stone grinding wheel” is a cracked concrete oval, flat on one side. The central bearing assembly has been replaced by two thick fence posts nailed together poorly at a 90 degree angle with a radius of two feet for a 5 foot tall wheel. It cannot rotate, and if it could, the radius is horribly wrong.

 

The fermentation tanks and copper pot stills are merely fuzzy photographs.

 

At the end of the tour, we enter a large thatched-roof canopy area for the free tequila tasting. This is an area of about 500 square feet with small waist-height tables that would look more appropriate in a night club. There are four bottles on each one and a stack of plastic sample cups stolen from the condiments section of a fast food restaurant.

 

We tried a small sample from each of the four bottles, and I was legitimately impressed by the Anejo (aged for at least a year). It was smooth with a rich flavor, actually comparable to a decent bottle of whiskey.

 

And now a lame sales pitch: “You cannot buy our esteemed family tequila in the states. Only at the factory in Jalisco, or here at our special outlet store.”

 

The anejo bottle I liked is ‘normally $100, but today only, I give it to you for 90. Because we’re friends.’

 

“I’m not your friend, buddy.”

“I am no your buddy, pal.”

“I’m not your pal, guy.”

 

I suddenly find myself experiencing a real-world application of Akerlof’s theories of Information Asymmetry. I know that I enjoyed the Anejo product, and I have a level of interest in making this market transaction. I have an internal price of around $40 for the bottle, and no way to determine if a higher price would be justified. The seller knows I’m leaving soon, and he has a clear incentive to extract an unreasonable price from me without expecting any retribution.

 

If I was carrying my cellphone, I would have just read the NOM code from the bottle to determine if it was re-branded and available in beloved ‘Murica. In round numbers, a thousand brands of tequila are produced by only a hundred distilleries, each uniquely identified by the NOM license number. Without naming any brands, I usually drink the cheap stuff from NOM 1440.

 

While I’m playing ‘mystery liquor games’, I’ll mention that the ‘Van Winkle’ series of bourbons have a cult following. The 2013 batch of ‘Van Winkle Special Reserve, Lot B’ was bottled from about 100 barrels personally hand-selected by Julian Van Winkle himself. The barrels he didn't choose were bottled and sold under a different brand name for a dramatically lower price. If you can figure out this puzzle, you will discover my favorite straight bourbon. Oh crap, it’s already hard to find this stuff and now I've ... well, too late. Good luck.

 

I thank him for his time and walk away. He does not attempt to haggle or offer me a package deal.

 

We’re tired, and this scam tour was the final straw. We climb back into our less-than-regal chariot and I command our chauffeur to take us back to the yacht.

 

I actually found the last leg of the journey to be the most interesting part of the trip. We traveled along the not-sanitized-for-tourists route through the shopping districts and industrial sections of San Miguel. I fight off the urge to have him stop at a roadside food vendor. I really, really want a fistful of hot, fresh, tiny tortillas with grilled meat, a pinch of onion and some bruised cilantro.

 

As a young man, I lived in the desert of California. During the summer, my friends and I would make frequent weekend pilgrimages to Rosarito Beach, staying in cheap hotels overnight without regard for our health. So I’m having flashbacks to simpler times, watching the scenery fly by from the back seat of SSGT Robin’s all-terrain Geo Metro, singing along to Depeche Mode CDs from a crappy stereo, competing with the wind noise from a rack full of surfboards on the roof. And we would routinely dine at these little roadside stands, eagerly watching an old man fling dozens of little tortillas onto a blackened grill surface, scoop them up when they started to scorch, then adding a mixture of hot meat, a bit of vegetation and a squirt of secret hot sauce.

 

I want to go back right now and risk a massive intestinal mutiny, just to get those little tacos.

 

It’s obvious that our driver either does not want, or is not allowed to enter the actual cruise ship terminal parking lot. We finally roll to a stop in a parking lot across the street. I give our guide a tip for making this such an amusing experience. He gives me a feedback form provided by the booking agency. I check all of the ‘awesome’ boxes and sign it in the comments section. I don’t want to use my real name, so I sign it “Lou Betti, KBE.”

 

I realize this is my final chance to purchase tequila before getting back on the boat. While walking back to the terminal, we stop inside the large liquor store in the collection of "Bargains? I don’t have to show you any stinkin’ bargains" shoppes.

 

They have a pretty good selection of tequila, but when we ask questions, the cute saleslady is devoid of useful information. She starts looking at bottles and reading the marketing factoids out loud to us ... I’m not even confident that prices were significantly better than at home.

 

We decide to carry some tequila back on-board by drinking it. There’s a chain-bar called Fat Tuesdays at the last corner of the shopping zone. We share a 24 oz plastic cup filled with an unremarkable frozen margarita from a slushie machine and bring it back on-board as the token ‘this says Cozumel’ souvenir. I am so ashamed.

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Beachlover1964

Beachlover1964

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As a young man, I lived in the desert of California. During the summer, my friends and I would make frequent weekend pilgrimages to Rosarito Beach, staying in cheap hotels overnight without regard for our health. So I’m having flashbacks to simpler times, watching the scenery fly by from the back seat of SSGT Robin’s all-terrain Geo Metro, singing along to Depeche Mode CDs from a crappy stereo, competing with the wind noise from a rack full of surfboards on the roof. And we would routinely dine at these little roadside stands, eagerly watching an old man fling dozens of little tortillas onto a blackened grill surface, scoop them up when they started to scorch, then adding a mixture of hot meat, a bit of vegetation and a squirt of secret hot sauce.

 

 

As a young woman, I lived in a Southern Califormia beach town. This brings me back to my college days....road trips to Rosarita Beach in my Karmen Ghia, packed full of sorority sisters, Depeche Mode cassette in the radio, street tacos, and margaritas on the beach. Those were the days!

 

Excellent review, I just love your descriptions and your wit.

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Pic Chick

Pic Chick

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I reach beach shack #2, and find my wife trying on bracelets as three salesmen flatter her and probe her for hints on our budget. She’s trying to simultaneously indicate to me that she likes the item, and act disinterested to the sales staff.

 

And how exactly was this accomplished? I've tried this method several time with no bracelet availed with Nydney1 :( He either misses that I WANT THIS ONE! Or blissfully ignores that I WANT THIS ONE! ;)

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Smart Arsenal Fan

Smart Arsenal Fan

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As a young woman, I lived in a Southern Califormia beach town. This brings me back to my college days....road trips to Rosarita Beach in my Karmen Ghia, packed full of sorority sisters, Depeche Mode cassette in the radio, street tacos, and margaritas on the beach. Those were the days!

 

Excellent review, I just love your descriptions and your wit.

 

Ah yes, same So Cal here... but we had my brother's mixtape stuck in the stereo (and no radio) so it was a constant Depeche Mode, Violent Femmes, & Jane's Addition playlist.

To this day, I hear one of those songs on radio, I crave fish tacos, and know exactly what song 'should be next'... :p

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HeyYouKidsGetOffMyLawn

HeyYouKidsGetOffMyLawn

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Ah yes, same So Cal here... but we had my brother's mixtape stuck in the stereo (and no radio) so it was a constant Depeche Mode, Violent Femmes, & Jane's Addiction playlist.

To this day, I hear one of those songs on radio, I crave fish tacos, and know exactly what song 'should be next'... :p

 

I hope you know: This will go down on your permanent record.

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HeyYouKidsGetOffMyLawn

HeyYouKidsGetOffMyLawn

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And how exactly was this accomplished? I've tried this method several time with no bracelet availed with Nydney1 :( He either misses that I WANT THIS ONE! Or blissfully ignores that I WANT THIS ONE! ;)

 

You need to create the everlasting bond that can only occur between true soulmates.

 

You'll also need a lot of candles, silly outfits, a goat named Steve, a steak knife, and ... Well, it's complicated.

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