It was ungodly early. We had booked an 8:45 a.m. returning flight out of Cancun. We were on Isla Mujeres, a considerably less appalling tourist trap than Cancun, but just a ferry ride away from its Margaritavilles and Señor Frog'ses and their target demographic of cultural offenders who travel abroad to eat in restaurants they could just as easily patronize at home. Our ferry left the island at 5:30 a.m., and its troll across the water was pleasant and docile, the sun rising to pink and blue hues that my camera could not begin to do justice to.

Then came Cancun and the obligatory haggling with a mad-driving man behind the wheel of a taxi. A perplexing number of half-finished and rotting structures line the streets of Isla Mujeres, but far more and far larger versions of those sit along the stretch between Puerto Juárez and Cancun International Airport: victims of the vanished prosperity of the 1990s and early 2000s. Just as numerous are patches of persevering prosperity: majestic pearl-white hotels with manicured grounds that put the White House lawn to shame.

In the heart of all this is Cancun International Airport. When you arrive, exhausted because you barely slept last night—to be fair, my companion slept like a concrete block on the other side of the bed while I tossed and turned and gobbled Mexican valium all night, to no avail—you need sustenance, and at least some bit of booze, be it overpriced and under-poured. We chose one of two very dismal options: Air Margaritaville (the other being some seafood-based atrocity called Bubba Gump Shrimp). "How bad could it possibly be?" we pathetically thought. Our bland, overpriced meals were scored by "Cheeseburger in Paradise," "Waiting in Vain," and some other shit by Jack Johnson and Dave Matthews, but I'm not sure exactly what—by that time, I'd already put my headphones on. Review: negative one star.

A list of other things not to do while on vacation:

• Do not pass out on the children's seesaw of an incredibly expensive and exclusive resort during the speeches segment of your cousin's wedding that you spent a lot of money to fly there for.

• Do not accidentally walk into the women's bathroom at Phoenix International and start brushing your teeth.

• Do not leave your credit card on the table of some other shitty restaurant in Phoenix International because you are so travel-weary and delirious that you should not have permission to carry a credit card.

• Do not say "yes" when an airport bartender asks if you want a double, because it really just means that you're getting maybe a single at best, and neither of those will do you any good anyway.

• Do not eat at Air Margaritaville in any airport, anywhere, ever.

• Fuck you, Jimmy Buffett.