Last year I wrote about a trip to Yelapa, Mexico. I poked fun at my unreasonable fear of cartels, which was replaced with a much more reasonable fear of scorpions. That trip ended up so idyllic, so magical, that in January of this year we went back.
Last year’s concerns, however, ended up prophetic.
All the way south to Mexico, Karma, Murphy, or some other folk deity was trying to hint at the possibility the trip might let us down.