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If you are not a Catalan, you've probably never heard 'Boig per tu'. Lucky you. It's an unbearable gloomy song that DJs in Catalonia play to kick everyone out of the club. Well, to my friend's discomfort, I started singing it on the top of the boat while we were crossing the small sea distance between Chiquilá and the captivating island of Holbox. It had been an amazing trip throughout Mexico but, as all good things, it was coming to an end. And there I was, still dancing on my own. The inhabited part of the island is tiny and no cars are allowed, so the only motor transportation is some sort of golf carts. One of those took us to the hostel and soon after we were already looking for some place to eat. We entered an open-air bar with hippy vibes. - Is the guacamole any good? - I asked the tall vigorous waiter - We haven’t eaten proper guacamole yet (global high demand of avocado was leaving Mexico without supplies). - Our guacamole is the best on the island, and probably in Mexico - he bragged. - Promised? - I’d bet anything that you will like it. - What do you know about what I like? - If you are not pleased, the margaritas are on me. - Deal. The guacamole came. I tried it and raised my head to meet his confident eyes. - Maybe you do know what I like. [...] I was still breathing heavily after my tremendous orgasm when I first heard the whistling wind and witnessed the two extra condoms we had prepared for the next round stand up like feathers and fly away from the scene of the crime. We were 5 meters above the ground, on the top of a ‘palapa’, a typical Mexican ceiling structure made of dried palm leaves. How did I end up there? Well, that night I would have agreed to follow him into a radioactive dump. - Franklin is coming - he said. - Who? - I replied, still a bit confused. - Hurricane Franklin. Well, now, tropical storm Franklin. As if that was reassuring. From that moment, it all happened very quickly. He lifted me in his bare arms and carried me beside the ladder we had used to climb up. I had been dreaming about that moment since I was an 8-year-old girl at my best friend’s party and the adult Patrick Swayze's wannabes wouldn't lift me up to let me have the time of my life. There I was, like some naked bride and I wasn't even enjoying it. The palapa started shaking, so I put my clothes on the fastest I could and went down the ladder. - Do you think you can sit inside the basket? - he asked, while pointing out a parked bicycle with a little piece of wood in front of the handlebar. - Let’s find out. He held the bike and I squatted on the, let's face it, tea tray that was used as a basket. There is no pavement in Holbox island, so we were dodging puddles and potholes when the wind hit us hard and almost made us crash against a palm tree. Then it started raining increasingly harder and he lost control. Don’t ask me how, but I managed to jump just in time to prevent an awful fall. I checked on him immediately, he was already on top of the bike again. - Go! - I said - It's only a few meters to La Tribu, I'll run! - Are you sure!? - Yes. Go! And he started cycling away in the pouring rain. There he goes, my Mayan God. I hadn't even had the chance to kiss him one last time. The next day we received instructions to stay in the hostel until the next morning. Then, the golf cart came to pick us up and take us to the boat. We passed next to the palapa, half of the ceiling had disappeared. I thought I saw something shiny on the ground. Was it a condom? The boat sailed, the music had stopped and the party was over but I was still recovering from the most thrilling night of my life. I might have not recovered yet.