I just want to quit the gym. Or get out of Mexico. Whichever comes first.

You know the last scene in Argo, where you think the hostages aren't going to make it out of Iran? We had a similar experience yesterday trying to get out of Mexico. For a number of reasons.

The night before we left, we tried to go to a fancy resort for drinks, but it was closed for a private event (I'm going with Aniston's wedding), so the cab took us back to our hotel. For a total of 3 minutes, it cost $12. Which my mom refused to pay. Loudly. In front of a crowd of onlookers (including kids). She offered the guy $6, but he wouldn't take it. And they knew our room number, because we had to give it to them before even getting into a cab. So the next day, we assumed it would be interesting getting a cab to the airport (to say the least).

But first, another hiccup: we received a bill for 59.00 for "stained towels" (nothing gross - my makeup bottle broke). Praying it was listed in pesos, we approached the check-out with hearts beating fast. (Or at least mine was.) And sure enough, it was dollars. $60 for a hand towel? My authority-challenging mom asked to SEE said towel, and the concierge got on the phone and into a heated conversation in Spanish. She returned a few minutes later with a new receipt, this time for $11. Sweet. (PAID.)

The cab to the airport was also a no-brainer, and checking our bags we thought we were good to go. But wait - apparently you're supposed to KEEP the immigration form indicating that you arrived in the country? (Sidebar: what is the point of the date stamp in your passport then?) I figured it was just paperwork, so I tossed it. Bad idea jeans. Had to go into the tiny, scary immigration office and pay for another round of stamps. Seriously had a vision of being locked up in a Mexican prison. (Perhaps one too many episodes of "Locked Up Abroad.")

But we did indeed make it out. Let it never be said that we don't have adventurous vacations.