Day 408: Smoke a Cuban Cigar

     I'm not gonna make a big deal or anything, but seeing how it's the start of a new year, I thought I'd come up with some resolutions for 2018:

• Travel more
• Document my travels
• Get rid of my pile-of-garbage of a car (that one doesn't really apply to the blog though)

     Pretty simple, the goal is to do a lot more of the same with this blog; travel and try new things. Should be a good year.

     I was lucky enough to be invited along to spend a week in Cabo San Lucas with Stef and my grandparents. I hadn't been on anything close to a vacation in like three years, but as I found out, I had no trouble dusting off my beer goggles and tacky Hawaiian shirt for a week of leisure and overeating south of the boarder. Overall the trip was a huge success, we didn't even get kicked off the plane this time, which was a nice change of pace. 

      Just as the title promised, this entry is about the greatly revered and equally contested Cuban cigar I tried while in Mexico. Full disclaimer- I don't smoke and think it's totally repulsive, so I knew going into this that I wasn't going to like it, but that sort of thinking hasn't seemed to stop me yet. And those of you long time readers (just kidding, I know nobody reads this stuff) might remember an entry similar to this when I attempted to smoke a normal cigar for the first time and was not a fan.

     Nevertheless, I went against every piece of advice my grandfather gave me (mainly "If you decide to smoke one of those things, I hope you're ready to sleep outside until the stench wears off") and sought out to find an authentic Cuban cigar on the streets of Mexico. This, I found to be an easier task than I originally thought. I mean seriously, walk out on the beach and throw a stone, odds are you'll hit a vendor willing you to sell you some. 

I'd seen other douches smoke in the ocean and wanted to try

     I chose to buy a single cigar from a man in the town of Todos Santos (which is home to the Hotel California! Unfortunately, after closer inspection, we found out that it wasn't the Hotel California and was was even involved in some sort of legal tussle with The Eagles over the naming of the building. Oh well.) The man in the shop gave me the whole spiel, had me smell and touch several cigars from behind a display case in an attempt to persuade me of their quality. And negotiating the price wasn't as bad as I thought it'd be, because whether we're talking dollars or pesos, I'm pretty much broke. If he wanted to make a sale, he was gonna have to drop down to my level. Anyways, I splurged a bit and bought one and to celebrate, the salesman poured two rounds of his homemade tequila for everyone in the store. The tequila was swarming with floating herbs and spices in it, which only served to deepen my suspicions about him.

Hotel California! Just not The Hotel California...

     This brings me to the actual act of smoking the cigar, which was much less exciting than what pop culture had led me to believe. I pictured flowing showers of golden light to rain down as I puffed like the suitcase from Pulp Fiction, but all I got was a soggy stogie that smelt vaguely like trees and old men. Completely underwhelming, and certainly not worth 20 bucks. But as a 20-something male in Mexico, I cant find it in myself to regret that terrible tasting cigar. I think smoking a Cuban is sort of a right of passage of dudes my age; like pretending to like straight whiskey or finally getting into Fleetwood Mac. It just seems to be something dudes my age start to do. Anyways, here's to looking like an absolute kook on the beach, banana shorts and all. Thanks Cabo!