Our first room had door and window gaps over an inch wide—big enough that we Googled whether Isla Mujeres has tarantulas. The locked sliding glass door could also simply be pulled open. Maintenance assured us, “It’s a safe area.” I’d still prefer the lock to participate.
Our second room fixed the security issue but introduced a toilet that barely flushed. After a couple maintenance visits, we earned honorary plumbing licenses. Unfortunately, my girlfriend also battled Montezuma’s Revenge, so our new skills got plenty of practice.
The gorgeous soaking tub looked amazing online. Filling it with lukewarm water was like watching a geriatric man with an enlarged prostate pee at 3 a.m. We would’ve retired before it filled.
Food was okay but overpriced. Local restaurants were much better. No coffee refills—a bold choice.
The décor is peak Instagram: crochet lampshades hanging inside the shower. Stylish? Sure. Confidence-inspiring? Less so.
We also got colored bracelets nobody ever referenced. Our theory? Secret swinger identifiers.
The beach is beautiful, though seaweed limited swimming. Bring bug spray. Expect loud music all day, no mini-fridge, and no in-room coffee.
Overall, definitely a once-in-a-lifetime stay.
Because once was enough.






























































































































