I am like the Scooter Libby of the Mexico trip. When people ask me what I remember from Saturday night, I artfully dodge the question and plead “memory lapse”. But unlike Mr. Libby’s disingenuous claim, I truly do not remember much from that evening. So let’s retrace our steps and start with Saturday morning.

While the boys went mountain biking, the bridesmaids got up bright and early to go horseback riding. I have never been on a horse before so I requested the tamest horse–preferably a burro. At first I was terrified. I mean, wouldn’t you be if you were straddling a 1200 pound animal between your legs? I had thoughts of Christopher Reeve’s accident racing through my head. I mean, do Asians even ride horses??? But I suppose the Mongols expanded their empire by riding horses so perhaps I possess some riding genes.

We all rode in a line and I was, of course, last. We had one staff member riding in the front and one in the back to keep the pack together. I had a lengthy conversation with the staff member since I was riding in the back most of the time. He asked me when I was going to college. I thought I misunderstood his spanish. I told him that I graduated from college ten years ago. He was stupefied. “I thought you were 14 or 15!” Hmmmm, I suppose this means I can continue drinking and smoking without guilt.

We rode past the crocodiles and saw Zebras up close, then rode across the beach. My horse kept stopping every two seconds to eat grasss. “Slow horses eat,” Meredith said.

By the end though I was ready to go faster. “Mas rapido, por favor!” I kicked my horse on the side but he wouldn’t budge. The caballero said I wasn’t kicking hard enough so he broke off a branch and told me to hit the horse with it. Then the horse started riding. I loved my riding whip. Every woman should keep a whip in her bedroom. Andale, Andale! I wanted to go faster, but alas, I did request the tame horse.

After horseback riding, we went back to the house and lounged around the pool. I love that the only decision I had to make was deciding between a pina colada or margarita. Lunch consisted of the juiciest grilled steak, shrimp as big as your palm, the fluffiest rice, and more margaritas. I decided I didn’t want any more tequila and asked if they had rose vino. And voila! It appeared.

At night, we all went to this outdoor restaurant for the rehearsal dinner. This is where things start to get a little fuzzy. I think the only thing I ate was an anemic chicken skewer. But I did manage to consume monumental margaritas.

After dinner we all started dancing. And by dancing I mean me, Meredith, and Dev started running after eachother in a circle–like how dogs chase eachother in a dog park.

If Andrew Dice Clay and Britney Spears pro-created, then I was their love child that night. Apparently I started doing the robot. And I kept going up to the DJ and requesting Sexyback. The DJ was like, “You already asked me that 10 times!” Apparently when the DJ started playing Coldplay I sat in the middle of the dance floor and started pouting. Wouldn’t you if you heard the reed thin vocals of Chris Martin and all you wanted was Sexyback?

On our car ride back Meredith and I started singing Journey and got booed. Or maybe it was the Hall and Oates that got us booed.

The next day, the first thing people would say to me was not “how are you” but “I loved your robot dance.”

As wedding guests kept recounting my tales of tomfoolery, I just wanted to crawl into a cave and hide like Osama. But Anais placated my worries when she said, “Look you had a good time and we all had a really good time. So it doesn’t matter.”

I suppose the saying is true. “Those who care don’t matter and those who matter don’t care.”