Snorkels, snacks and snoring thunder

Jesus picks us up again.

Yes, Jesus was our driver. I mean he changed his appearance but his name never changed. I think Jesus may or may not be sponsored by Armor All. I swear his backseat was so shiny and slick it could have been mistaken for an oil rig spill. Jessica was a little skeptical about taking us rogue-style outside the hotel shuttle zone, but I reassured him, “Jesus has never failed us and He won’t start now!” Can I get an amen?! 🙌

At aqua world we got a layout of the facility 10/10 would recommend. They gave us the run down and Jess hopped in the drivers seat. Jess drove us like a boss… until she got slapped in the face by a wave so hard it practically filed a restraining order against her. But spirits were high! I still think Pete saw it coming and gave me NO WARNING! Not to mention, he kept the camera on in hopes to see it again.

We snorkeled with Finding Nemo’s extended family, gliding over coral reefs that looked like underwater art installations curated by Poseidon and Ariel. We even saw a turtle! 🐢 (He gave us a wise nod. Might’ve been just breathing, but I took it as spiritual affirmation like “Well done Pete”.) This was a little God-wink, as Jess’ favorite honeymoon memory was the sea turtles being so close to us.

Unfortunately, every time we found a perfect fishy view, an overly annoying couple from overseas would suddenly appear in front of us — full snorkel block our views. We were officially snorkel-blocked. Multiple times.

Then it was my turn to drive the boat. How do I say this? I am pretty sure Jessica would have felt more confident in blindfolded goats on rollerblades the boat was a lot more squirrelly than I anticipated. It all went south when the tour guide insisted I ram the boat up the launch ramp like we were Vin Diesel in Fast & the Flotation Device. Eventually, he just sighed and said, “Ya know what… just let go. I got this.” Captain Confidence had entered the chat.

Jesus, bless his shiny ride, picked us up again and drove us back while we admired the views like two very sun-kissed , waterlogged poets.

By the time we got back to the resort, we were so hungry I swear I could see my own ribcage writing “feed me” in Morse code. We aimed for the Lobster House but — plot twist — they were closed because apparently lobsters observe the Sabbath now.

We tried the spot next door, but they told us they wouldn’t serve us for 10 more minutes. Ten minutes?! We were basically biblical figures at this point. I looked Jess dead in the eyes and quoted scripture: “If I don’t eat now, I shall surely perish” — Esau, probably.

So we limped down to the OG food spot and ordered enough food to feed a wedding party. Salmon tacos, nachos, shrimp cocktails, potatoes, garlic fish, desserts. Yes, we were judged. Yes, we felt it. And yes, we licked our plates anyway.

After our feast, it was back to the beach where Pete resumed his part-time gig as a professional napper. Jess, the overachiever, cracked open her book while we were gently harassed by beach vendors offering everything from bracelets to a full set of patio furniture.

Later, we swam in a massive, eerily empty pool. Just us and one mysterious couple who may or may not have been vampires. Honestly, it felt like we’d rented out a private villa. Fancy vibes. So exclusive.

I told Jess I wanted a Coke. Normal sentence, right? But in pure Pete fashion, that led to me becoming besties with three complete strangers while Jess sat solo in the hot tub contemplating whether the distant conch-shell blowing was:

A) A resort performance

B) Someone celebrating a birthday

C) The actual Rapture

Spoiler: it was neither just more people selling shells now.

Back to the beach. Nap #2. Pete edition.

Apparently, there were more people around this time, which is odd because by the time I woke up to thunder… there were none. Just empty chairs and the soft echo of waves. Come to find out there was thunder just not from the clouds but from me. Jess looked at me and said, “I think your snoring scared everyone away.” Imagine being so powerful your snoring clears beaches. Add that to the résumé.

Time for dinner. Jess looked like she was ready for a magazine cover. I looked like I was about to tee off at a mid-level country club.

We dined at “The Grill” — I feasted on ribeye, creamed spinach, onion rings. While Jess had, sirloin, asparagus, mashed potatoes (so good they deserved their own Instagram account). Romantic vibes were strong… until a literal herd of Coatisprinted past our window. Not once. Dozens of them. A Coati flash mob. It was like National Geographic: Resort Edition.

As we were walking back to the room we saw they were setting up for a circus show by the pool. Amazing, right? So we waited in our room two full hours until show time. Jess was fading fast, but I said, “Trust me. It’ll be worth it.”

I regret everything.

It was like Cirque du Soleil’s understudies called in sick and their elementary cousins filled in. At one point, they pulled a woman from the audience and instead of being shy, she sprinted on stage like she’d been waiting her whole life for this moment maybe it was the liquor in her or the fact that the guy was just walking in a hamster wheel but Respect nonetheless.

We laughed. A lot. But mostly at, not with.

Back in our room, because we’re Americans and this is our God-given vacation right, we ordered chicken fingers and fries from room service. I guess Pete didn’t want to mention this part, so I’ll add it in. He tried calling for room service from the phone in the room NEXT to the toilet… gluttony much? Ridding of one meal while preparing for the next.

We watched a movie on my phone (because every channel was in Spanish and we know uno and queso and that’s it). Jess fell asleep mid-scene. All was peaceful until the chicken fingers… hit.

Let’s just say I “released the pressure” like a gentleman — silently. But apparently, the aroma had notes. Jess sat up like the undead and gasped, “What… was… that?!”

Listen. It wasn’t great. But it was a memorable ending to a great day.

Beach bums, bougie naps & buffet trauma

Woke up to a chef’s kiss of a day — blue skies, beach breeze, and the kind of weather that practically bullies you into being happy. Naturally, it was time to start the day with a feast at “The Kitchen Table”— which should honestly be renamed “The Kitchen Table (And Possibly Everything in the Fridge Too)” because the spread was ridiculous. Like for real, they had everything including sushi and smoked salmon.

Jess, in her unusual chaotic breakfast energy, went for an omelet, bacon, and…stale cereal. Like, so stale it crunched louder than the gravel in the parking lot. She also had a full existential crisis mid-bite when she discovered grapes have seeds. You should’ve seen the betrayal in her eyes. “Why is it crunchy??” Because, Jess. Nature. But why Pete? Why would someone want grapes with seeds when you can purchase seedless ones?

We walked off the trauma on the beach and scoped out the other resorts, which (not to brag, but…) made ours look like Beyoncé in a sea of budget Airbnbs. No hate, but we were absolutely judging the accommodations. Respectfully.

Then came the bougie beach chair portion of the day. Picture this: waves crashing, seagulls soaring, sun beaming down…and me, fully passed out. Nap #1: activated. Jess was unable to enjoy her nap due to the fact that Pete’s snoring was louder than the sounds of the crashing waves. Instead of napping, she read.

After roasting ourselves into two seasoned rotisserie chickens, we went for lunch. The resort’s pizza had amazing reviews, which I can only assume were written by toddlers or people who have never had pizza. 6.5/10, and that’s me being generous. I only gave it extra points because it was warm and edible.

Post-pizza, we hit the pool while listening to Alabama fold Wisconsin like laundry. Roll Tide, baby. The spirit of the Tide fueled our backstrokes.

Then it happened.

Jess got a craving… for a hot dog. We found this adorable little “food truck” (think Pinterest board meets street meat). Was the hot dog worth the 15-minute wait? I’ll never know. Jess inhaled it like a Dyson on turbo mode. I blinked, and it was gone. She claims there were fries. I have no proof.

***Insert Jess’ version here. I wanted a hot dog. Simple, right? And yes, after the terrible pizza we had for lunch, I was a little hungry. Am I the hungry, hungry hippo that Pete referenced… no, we know he embellishes quite a bit. He also failed to mention he ate half my fries***

Full of processed meats and artificial joy, we floated over to the lazy river. On the way, Jess looked at me and said, “I think you got some sun,” which is code for “you are now legally a lobster.” And yes — I felt it. Especially during the shower, which quickly turned into a one-man opera called “AAAAHHHHHHH! MY SKIN!”

After recovering from my shower trauma, we set our sights on a dinner spot boasting a 48oz Tomahawk steak. Y’all. I’ve been dreaming about this steak. Literally. I whispered sweet nothings to a Google image of it the night before.

But first, we made a pit stop at the sports bar to catch the LSU v. Florida game — where we encountered a pack of LSU fans who were already a dozen hurricanes deep by 5 PM. Spirits: high. Volume: louder than any parenting advice my mom’s ever given. They were screaming at the TV like the coach could hear them from across international waters. It does prove my theory that LSU fans are the most fair-weather, wish-washy fan base of all time.

And then… tragedy struck.

We get to the steak place and not only is there a 45-minute wait… they’re out of steak. I’ll give you a moment to grieve. We sure did.

But God gives with one hand and deep-fries with the other — so we got hot wings, football, and more LSU chaos. These fans? Unhinged. At one point, someone started giving play-by-play coaching advice — as if coach himself was phoning it in via FaceTime.

On the walk back, we had an impromptu saxophone concert from a dude who looked suspiciously like Josiah Broussard (his doppelgänger is apparently moonlighting at the resort). Were we supposed to be walking through that area? Absolutely not. Did we turn around? Also no. Jess and I just danced through like it was a flash mob and kept it moving.

Oh, and important detail: we tried playing shuffleboard. I’ll keep this short: lame. HOWEVER, worth it because we got front-row seats to a very drunk man eating the concrete like a sack of potatoes. Thankfully, the scene was quickly taken over by a group of intoxicated nurses who immediately turned into Grey’s Anatomy extras. One yelled “Get him flat!” like we were in an episode of ER and not…next to a shuffleboard court. Sis, it’s not that deep. Get him an ice pack and a Gatorade.

Final thoughts:

Day 2 gave us beach naps, pizza lies, football chaos, and a small saxophone concert. 10/10 would dance through restricted areas again.

Anniversary Adventure Day 1 🏝️✈️

Our day started long before the sun even thought about rising — 4 a.m. wake-up call to hit the road for the New Orleans airport. As expected, Jessica’s car narcolepsy kicked in and she curled up and slept most of the drive, but I managed to wake her up for breakfast. That’s when the first surprise of the trip began.

I handed her an anniversary card, filled with a sweet note and, at the bottom, a little instruction: “over.” On the back was a simple website address — www.peteandjesstravel.com. Jess immediately powered on her phone, typed it in, and her face lit up with shock.

For weeks, she had been convinced we were heading to San Antonio, Texas. But in that moment, she discovered the truth: we weren’t going to Texas at all. We were leaving the country… straight to Cancun, Mexico! Hola Jess

Naturally, the questions followed — “What about my passport? What about the details?” Don’t worry, babe. I had everything planned… well, mostly. My first fail of the day? When she saw her boarding pass and realized my fat fingers typed D instead of E in her middle name. Cue the panic — Jess was convinced Homeland Security was going to lock her in a cell. The actual fix? A quick change at the counter. Crisis averted.

Once through security, we settled at the gate. Jess picked up a beach read, and we indulged in one of our favorite pastimes: people-watching. Aaaaannnnd Spirit Airlines did not disappoint. Let’s just say the entertainment had already started before we ever left the ground. We reminded ourselves a few times that “just because they were on our flight didn’t mean they’d be at our resort”, thank God!

The flight itself was quick and painless, though the seats felt more like metal bleachers than airplane chairs. We discovered a new snack that we’d never had before, and will probably order again on the return flight. Two hours later, we touched down in Cancun. Immigration was comically easy — apparently, no one really cared that we were there. Just a simple “what’s your name and how long are you here?” Ok next!

A quick bathroom break before getting our luggage, where Jess was handed the paper towels after washing her hands. Has the service really already started and we aren’t even at the resort yet? Pete got a little concerned about how long I was in the bathroom for, but I guess that’s partially my fault because of how much I talked about being “taken” and begging him to keep me in his sights.

We navigated through the airport, skillfully dodging taxi vendors, until we found our ride. Waiting for us was our concierge, Jesus (yes, Jesus met us in Mexico 🙌). And let me tell you — He came prepared. We climbed into a brand-new Ford Expedition Platinum Edition, and Jess leaned over and said, “Sorry boo, but this is the new standard.” I mean, how can we go back to a regular little taxi after being greeted by that? Heated seats, cold water and a push start? 😉

Arriving at the resort was pure magic. The gates opened to paradise. And the smell… oh the yummy smell of the lobby! It took me back to our Honeymoon at The Ritz. Staff greeted us at the car, whisked away our bags, and handed us champagne and chilled towels. Our bellhop escorted us through check-in, gave us the full resort tour (though it felt like a bit of information overload), and reassured us that “it’s all in the app.” My word they push the app hard. All Jess could see while he talked was the guy in “The Proposal” singing, “relax, don’t do it…”

We passed the time with tacos and nachos on the beach until our room was ready. At 2:30, we finally got our key — and the door had a sign celebrating our anniversary. The room? Absolutely stunning. Two jetted tubs (one inside, one on the balcony) and an ocean view that made us stop and just breathe it in. The light switches owned us a bit… our room lit up like strobe lights in the club while we tried to figure out what was what.

We changed into swimsuits, hit the pool and hot tub, and met some hilarious new friends from Houston. Later, we cleaned up for dinner and took in a Mexican cultural show — complete with a mariachi band and a journey through Mexico’s history. The only downside? The mosquitoes decided I was their buffet. By the time we got back, Jess looked at me and said, “your back looks like a connect-the-dots page from all your bites.”

Exhausted and happy, we crashed into the most comfortable bed and slept a glorious 10 hours straight.

Day one: surprises, laughter, adventure, and tacos. Couldn’t ask for a better start. 🌊🌮