I used to have a favorite resort in Cabo. It was my travel porn of choice – the happy place my mind went to when I needed a little bit of escapism. The margaritas were fantastic and my favorite room there was a hammock was in the shade in the balcony. Hammocks are one of my favorite amenities, and too few hotels have them. Not to mention Cabo is an easy flight from Los Angeles. I loved that hotel. It was a special occasion sort of resort, an aspirational kind of place where I felt like a better, sexier, tanner more glamorous version of myself.
Then, unfortunately, Ray J make Kim Kardashian a superstar by filming part of their sex tape at that resort, which he described as “ballin.” It totally ruined it for me. Never mind the bad camera work or the fact that the Cabo segment of that video might be the most boring set of scenes in the entire celebrity sex tape genre. Ray J is such a lame cameraman he even made the beautiful suite look common while describing it as “fly.” I suspect Ray J thought the tape would make him a famous swordsman, not win any awards for cinematography.
I think the moment that ruined it for me was when they make out in the infinity pool. I mean, who knows how often they change that water? Eeew. From then on, even my daydreams felt tainted. Note: there is a great clean transcription of the Cabo section of the tape on The Agony Booth.
When travel porn collides with the reality of a celebrity sex tape, I find myself unable to return to that hotel. I had to break up with my favorite resort. I even removed the resort’s Do Not Disturb sign (which I took from the hotel) from the door on my home office.
My sense of humor is generally a good coping mechanism for travel – but on occasion, it works against me. I’ve been known to drop a perfectly timed movie quote from time to time. I fear this skill, fueled by tequila-filled margaritas and gems of Ray’s terrible dialogue would be a disastrous combination – one that would for sure annoy my sweet and patient husband (who would never waste a second of his life saying the word “Kardashian”).
The Beach in Cabo
I’m not sure why Ray J and Kim’s sexcapades sully the hotel of my fantasies unlike other celebrity antics. It’s not like I think the action at these sultry honeymoon destination type resorts is rated G. But those images of Kim’s pre-celebrity, pre-QuickTrim endorsement jiggly badonkadonk straining the fabric of her Burberry bikini in my favorite infinity pool. Her getting jiggy with Ray J while he says stupid and annoying things, are seared on my brain and just ruined my go-to travel porn fantasy, and there’s no going back.
Beer Shack in Cabo
Mexico hotels have been catering to celebrities for a long time. Yet I feel no ill will towards The Ritz-Cartlon Cancun, even though I know from one of my all time favorite beach reads, Mötley Crüe ‘s The Dirt, that Pamela and Tommy got all kinds of freaky in the penthouse just days before eloping on the beach.
Cerveza Mas Fina in Cabo.
I actually got nostalgic for The Westin Cabo (and hungry for their sublime guacamole) when I read Scar Tissue, the autobiography of Anthony Kiedis, front man of the Red Hot Chili Peppers. Kiedis talks about the multiple occasions he tried to quit heroin by himself, he’d hole up at that hotel for days at a time.
Nick Lachey’s racy hot tub pics with his then-girlfriend, now wife Vanessa Millano didn’t turn me off favorite celebrity hotel Las Ventanas for a second, but their guacamole isn’t nearly as good.
None of those hotels were my escapist fantasy, none were my hotel porn of choice. The second I witnessed Ray J and Kim’s seaside bedroom theatrics at my holy-of-hotel holies, was my Angel is the Centerfold moment. It’s something I can’t forget I saw that reminds me of a more innocent time; a time when getaways were about getting away from reality and hotel guests would pony up for pay-per-view adult entertainment rather than star in their own.