I’ve noted before in one or two of these posts that if you want to witness something unusual, travel with me. Want to be greeted by a large number of military-dressed, Uzi-carrying dudes waiting on the tarmac for your plane to arrive in Budapest or Bucharest, come with me. A touch-and-go to avoid a plane crash, got you there. An airport evacuation in the middle of trying to rent a car, yep. And how about a lightning strike while flying from Chicago to New York, I have you covered.

This trip, to Mexico, allows me to add to my list of unusual happenings, although by comparison it was calmer than most of the others. Our arrival in Cancun was uneventful, rather smooth. We moved through immigration and customs quickly and soon found ourselves in a nice van speeding along the highway to our compound about halfway between Cancun and Tulum. The Mayan Palace, our home for a few days, is part of a four-development aggregation of places for Americans to go to act like idiots. There is a lot of security in and around the complex, along with a three-step mind-numbing process for checking in. And there is the expected pitch to get you to listen to a presentation to buy a timeshare. We said no to the presentation. No timeshares for me.

The Mayan Riviera is beautiful and the Mayan Palace is quite nice, except for the drunks at the pool. The grounds are tops, very walkable, and there is great signage, including pictures, of the critters and plant stuff you might see, you know that flora and fauna. We paid particular attention to the iguanas in part because we had one, Golum—a three-footer, for more than ten years. The beach, pool, minus the drunks, and restaurants are very good.

We were gassed when we arrived. We awoke to our alarm at 2:00 am because we had a 5:30 am flight, boarding at 5:00 am. While it was sleepy-sleepy time shortly after wheels-up, we just could not catch up to the lost zzz’s and so by the time we arrived at the Palace we were very tired and hungry. The long check-in process made us even more cranky.

Before he was killed, El Mencho was a 59-year-old drug kingpin, head of the Jalisco New Generation Cartel, JNGC. The JNGC has been moving cocaine, methamphetamines, fentanyl, and migrants to the U.S. since around 2009. They are a violent bunch, but are sophisticated enough to use IEDs and drones as part of their repertoire to gain power and strike fear into the local population and rival gangs. On the day that we arrived in Mexico, El Mencho, real name Osequera Cervantes, was being sort of tracked by Mexican authorities. There was a $15 million reward for information leading to his arrest (provided by the U.S.). Actually, Mexican officials were tracking one of his lovers and that evening when El Mencho and his honey hooked up, the other action began. El Mencho was shot during a firefight, but not killed, and died as he was being transported to Mexico City for emergency medical care. That’s the official story.

Members of the JNGC were not happy that their leader had been whacked, and quickly a violent response was delivered. Cars and buses were hijacked and burned and a few convenience stores torched as part of an effort to block the roadways and create fear both among the locals and tourists in Jalisco and beyond. The airport in Guadalajara was closed, with scenes of passengers running out of the airport as if they were under fire (they weren’t).

While it’s a 25-hour drive and a more than 1,000-mile flight between Guadalajara and Cancun, there were local effects and we were advised to shelter in place; that is, stay on the compound. We did. There were a couple cars burned in Cancun. Whispers and some whining began as fellow tourists began to speculate on the problems they might have if the airport in Cancun was closed when their day of departure arrived. We weren’t as concerned, and simply hung out until the excitement ended. Sure enough, by Monday the airport in Guadalajara was open and when we left Cancun on Thursday all seemed to be back to normal.