Clumsy American

Here I was, enjoying the first day of vacation swimming lazy laps in the Olympic sized pool in the middle of the afternoon. Calm and peaceful. No one around. 80 degrees. It was great, lying on my back looking into a clear blue sky, palm trees providing some shade as I enjoyed the first day of vacation in Puerto Vallarta. Recovery world stress left 1450 hundred miles North in Arizona. What could go wrong in such a postcard setting?

But something did. When my wife summoned me from the pool to go hunt down a burrito we crossed the walkway to the hotel steps. That's where I stubbed my left big toe, re-opening a wound I’d inflicted at home a week earlier. It probably hadn't been healed for more than a day or two. Damn!

By the time we stopped at the fourth floor, there were blood puddles spreading over the tile floor of the elevator. Then a trail for the 30 feet from the elevator to our apartment. A mess.

But the interesting part of this small mishap is that while my wife and I were cleaning the wound we received three phone calls within 15 minutes.

One from the front desk, wanting to know if I was okay. Another from the concierge wanting to know if we needed an electric cart to take us to the nearby clinic. The last came from the clinic, with directions of how to get there. Then - while we were at the clinic - a hotel staff member came by to fill out an incident report. And today another call from management to follow-up: “How are you feeling today Senor?”

This experience re-confirms what I know about people here. They’re friendly - and caring. They exhibit concern for those who need help – as they did for a clumsy American who kicked the front step of their hotel and bled all over the place..