The Chaise Lounge War: Stress in Paradise. Episode Two
Dateline: The Giggling Marlin. Cabo San Lucas International Branch Bar. I don’t think the people in here are normal. I also think if they realize I’m listening to their conversations for national publication, things could get dangerous.
In order to appreciate the dangerous waters stirred up by the Chaise Lounge War, you must have joined up earlier with Stress in Paradise. Episode One: Revolution on the Beach.
Revolution is part of the vocabulary of Mexico. There are almost daily public demonstrations in Mexico City demanding better pay for agricultural and services workers. And here in Cabo San Lucas, another desperate cause has driven the oppressed to rise up. The Ultimate Supreme Superlative Fabulous Luxury (see previous confession) Hilton 
Resort where we’re staying simply does not have enough ultimate supreme chaise lounges in superlative fabulous locations. And the non-natives are restless.
Strictly speaking there are enough chairs so that every guest has a place to plant his or her soon-to-blistered body in the sun. There are loads of chaises—around the pools, on the overlooks, on the sand next to the water, everywhere–and the helpful guys in white will gladly adjust an umbrella to suit your needs. Each chaise is a little piece of heaven…you’d think. But here’s the rub. Some chaises are preferable over others. The ones on the overlook nearest the pounding surf are favored, unless you have children and are thus forced to set up camp nearer the many pools. Also, there are a dozen or so king size chaises, those are big ticket. The most precious are the ‘private’ king chaises with stacks of fresh pillows and surrounded by white muslin drapes. You know the kind, you’ve seen them—billowing white cotton, blue sky, turquoise water in the background–in those travel magazines hawking resorts intended for Wall Street superstars and their trophy wives. 
A day spent hanging out in a super chaise lounge suite is a day of luxury for the regular guest and a day of fantasy for a Hilton Points casher like me.
And there are not enough of these super lounges, not enough chairs on the big ticket overlook for every guest who thinks he or she should be able to dictate their life experiences. And, just as the Potato Famine of 1845 in Ireland resulted in a million immigrants and maybe the rise of unions in Chicago, the lack of premo chaise lounges has resulted in increasingly disturbed behavior.
The first acts of the revolution were harmless enough, unless you were picky about the speed with which you were served breakfast at the restaurant over-looking the waves and the jewel chaise lounges. The initial response for resort pros had been to get up early, finish breakfast first, and take chase lounge possession before those with more ordinary habits made it to the battlefield. Unfortunately, this tactic was so popular alarms were being set earlier and earlier each day until the bars were losing night time money and slackers like me didn’t appreciate the pitter patter of anxious feet and guests hollering, “Run, baby, run! I saw a couple break from the elevator! Bring six magazines!”
There was an upper limit to early riser tactic.
Resort life was about to get ugly.
Next: Resorters Gone Wild!
