Our friend, who lived in San Diego at the time, was acting as our tour guide into Mexico since she’d been there dozens of time. She had even chosen a chic hotel for us to stay at.

Problem is, she didn’t make reservations. By the time we pulled into Rosarito, there were no vacancies except for in some dive called the Hotel California.

Well, if this was the Hotel California from the well-known Eagles song, I’ll be damned. It had to be the filthiest dive I’ve ever set foot in. There were mirrors along the walls - at bed level! You could not see yourself in these mirrors unless you were horizontal. That pretty much summed up this hotel’s target clientele. You wouldn’t dare walk around the room barefoot, since you could literally feel the smutty grime seeping into the soles of your feet. We all purchased $10 blankets from the vendors on the beach to avoid direct contact with anything that might be contaminated.

Some of our travelers were pretty disturbed by our accomodations. Others thought of it as an adventure and turned it into a story that would be retold for years to come (that would be me). But I have to say, after we guzzled a gazilion beers over at Papas and got the good times rolling, everybody was pretty content and just happy to be on the Girl Trip.

-MAD Tripper
Girl Trip