Far be it from me to steer anyone away from a couple weeks of sun and fun in Puerto Vallarta - the place is amazing.
Pristine beaches etch endlessly into the sunset. Bikini-clad girls are everywhere. The nightlife runs into morning - the Dos Equi's flow. And the food puts my favorite local Mexican haunt to shame.
But the darts scene is another story altogether. Except for the Lobby Bar of the Marriott Casa Magna (Paseo de la Marina, No 5) by all appearances there isn't a game to be found in the entire city. I imagine I am one of the few people that has ever wandered here looking for one!
Eventually, I found some "action" and in so doing was able to validate the theory that humidity adds years of life to a dartboard. Just a few warmup throws had me dripping in sweat. I figure that's the way the theory works - set up a board in the middle of one of the most humid places on earth and, since no one can tolerate more than a few minutes at the line, the board will last forever. This board couldn't have been used a half-dozen times since the battle for the Alamo.
I imagine this is also why the lighting was virtually non-existent. because the board was hung before electricity was invented.
So, I threw for a while in the heat and the dark. Munched some nachos and drank a few beers. Whatever I could do to keep cool. Trying to survive. or lying in wait. Perhaps a bit of both. I wasn't sure myself.
Around about 8:00 pm a long-haired kid named Luke sauntered in. Coke in hand. Wanted a game. Said he'd throw the bar darts. Asked how much money I had. Right.
So, we threw a few games of cricket. Sweated. Sipped our drinks. Talked about nothing that made sense to me. at least not these days. Rock groups. He was into "sweet young things" on the beach.
And about a half hour later we headed our separate ways. I, the victor, to a late business dinner...
...and Luke, a tad humbled in defeat, to bed. when you're eleven years old the sun sets early no matter where you are in the world.
So much for darts in paradise!
From the Field,