But, he admits, there was a little anxiety about me trip this year. “Our parents gave us a lot of money,” says one boy, scribbling his name and room number on the bar tab.
PARTY ANIMALS GARAGE PLUS
For five days and four nights, the kids paid a package rate, about $500-$600 a head, plus another $ 100 for the nightly wristbands. Here, they’re all grown-ups.īut how do they afford this trip? At $ 165 a night for a standard double room, the Krystal is a five-star hotel by Mexican standards. Senior boys date younger girls senior girls date college boys-or no one. In fact, in this mature social system that long ago sorted out its various couplings, rivalries, and friendships, the sexes don’t seem too interested in each other. Makeup perfectly polished, hair professionally highlighted, the girls look as if they’ve stepped out of the pages of Marie Claire, far more sophisticated than the boys. They order Coronas and limes, or margaritas and daiquiris. After spending a hot, sunny day by the pool, they’ve showered and dressed for partying, the guys in baggy shorts, the girls sleek in tight mini-skirts or body-hugging black dresses that show off new tans. The drinking age is 18, and no one checks anyway.Ĭhairs scattered around the lounge fill with teenagers. He doesn’t flash the ID here-and probably not at any bar in Cancun. But he confides that their main role is this: If you land in jail, they’ll get you out. “The chaperones are assholes,” one boy says. The pair of Highland Park boys insist that, down here, the parents watch the kids like hawks. Tonight, when the bus arrives, the teen with the wristbands will add another to his collection, this time from Pat O’Brien’s. For $20-all-you-ean-drink, they’d done the ’90s version of dirty dancing to rap by the Notorious B.I.G., while bartenders slung drinks two at a time Sometime after I a.m.,a young man, standing at the bar to get yet another drink, leaned over, bowed his head, and threw up on his shoes. Last night, they’d invaded La Boom, a disco a few miles down the beach, where a fire-breathing juggler in leopard-striped tights entertained at the entrance. The other teen sports a couple of plastic wristbands in different colors-remnants from the previous nights1 revelries. One of the Dallas boys orders a second beer, Irving out his high-school Spanish on the Mexican bartender, who smiles and quickly brings a bottle of Corona. “I can’t believe your parents let you come to ( aucun,1” says one of the women.
I lie girls, apparently reliving their college days with a jaunt to Cancun, are surprised these guys are so young. Smoking Marlboro* and sipping beer, the boys sit perehed on bar stools, flirting with a pair of female spring-breakers in their 20s.
It’s a few hours after sunset in m id-March, and-like everyone else at the Hotel krystal bar in Cancun- two Highland Park teenage boys are gearing up to party long into the tropical night.
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