Everyone, and I mean everyone, had their apprehensions about my solo trip to the small town of Pescadero in Baja Sur, Mexico.
I heard it all:
"You're gonna get lost." (Most realisitic)
"You're gonna end up in a body bag." (Really?)
"You're gonna get hacked up into small pieces and end up in a body bag buried in the middle of the desert." (My personal favorite)
"You should write a will." (Nice.)
Though my family and friends were adamantly turning my vacation into another sequel of Texas Chainsaw Massacre, I refused to succumb to fear. In fact when they said these things, I only wanted to prove them wrong that much more. Though I really appreciated the legitimate concern, I didn't want to change my schedule to nice "safe" Hawaii, nor compromise any part of my plan, especially after I was told I'd end up in a body bag.
This was going to happen. Screw fear.
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