For eight years, we had been loyal to our timeshare in Cabo, but this year, we craved something new. Pueblo Bonito's resort in Mazatlán beckoned, despite warnings that cruise ships had stopped visiting due to safety concerns. Undeterred, we boarded a cab from the airport, winding through unsettling neighborhoods that seemed to stretch on forever.
Our spirits remained high, and we eagerly scheduled a city tour to explore the church, historic buildings, and the old town. At the governor's mansion, we learned that on weekends, the square below bursts
into life with locals. It was Saturday night, and we couldn't resist. We hired a hurricane—a vibrant, open-air vehicle—and set off into the darkness. As we traversed the city, distant gunfire echoed, and we passed trucks loaded with military men armed to the teeth. The juxtaposition of feeling both protected and on edge was thrilling.
Arriving at the lively square, our risk felt justified. The place was buzzing with energy, alive with music and celebration. We marveled at girls in stunning dresses celebrating their quinceañera. I experienced my first chair massage from a blind masseuse, a truly unique encounter. We roamed the entire square, soaking in the vibrant atmosphere, and enjoyed a delicious dinner on a balcony overlooking the festivities. After an unforgettable night, we flagged down another hurricane to whisk us back to the resort.
Later, we learned that several people had been killed at various clubs that night. The news sent a shiver down our spines. In retrospect, maybe better judgment should have prevailed, but the thrill of the adventure and the memories we made were worth every risky moment. Mazatlán had delivered an exhilarating experience we would never forget.