It was only as I was sitting on a red and teal bench in the park, getting pummeled by one of the worst rain storms Cancun had experienced in over three years, did I start to formulate a list of need-to-know tips that I wish someone would have shared with me.

I had arrived to Cancun with a supple fold of pesos and two glossy credit cards—one Visa, the other, MasterCard—stiff, and virgins to any card swiping. A man in a stiff, straw hat hurried to my side, snatched my bags, and quickly shoveled them into the trunk of a cab. "Gran Melia Cancun," I said, and away the old Crown Vic sputtered, to one of the more chic and extravagant hotels I have stayed at during my many trips to Mexico.

The concierge at the hotel ordered my luggage up to my room and by his suggestion, saw me off to the Roots Jazz Club; a swanky little juke joint with acoustics that would reflect the percussion, remarkably, at any and every spot in the house. I visited on a night when there was no cover charge and the kitchen was still open at the early hours of the morning.

As soon as I was able to fall into a trance of thick bass riffs, I recognized a dreadfully familiar face that would force me out of my cush, bed-like booth and back out to the streets.

I was beginning to walk my buzz off and needed to nurse it back to health. A minute down the road, I located what appeared to be a margarita bar, La Habichuela. I slipped through the entrance and nestled into an empty seat at the bar. Four drinks later and only a few pesos left in my pocket saw me skulking from the bar to hail a cab.

We were only about two miles into the ride back to Gran Melia Cancun when panic fluttered down my chest and into my stomach.

I hope this guy takes plastic, I thought to myself.
"¿Tomas tarjeta de credito?"

The cab ceased, abruptly, rain began to pour, and I was envisioning myself outside, standing in a muddy ditch that was slowly filling on the other side of the glass.

"No," the cabbie replied. My biggest fear was confirmed.

And there I was, retracing every event that had led me to that bench, where I soaked in the chilled pour of an otherwise pleasant Cancun night.