For this Hangover Helper, you're going to need a passport. A thousand bucks or so wouldn't hurt either. First step: Buy a round-trip ticket to Los Cabos, at the tip of the Baja Peninsula. You could just buy a one-way ticket, but that ends up being a very different trip.
Next, check into your hotel. Step three (and this is where it gets good): Get down and dirty drunk. Get Wabo in Cabo. Get so stinking sauced that they hang you upside down from a fishhook at The Giggling Marlin. Lose yourself (but please, not your passport) at Nowhere Bar. Then, find a taxi or a pedicab driver with real strong legs to take you back to the hotel.
In the morning, your future's so bright, you'll have to wear shades. After all, this is where the desert meets the sea, and the Pacific meets the Sea of Cortez. Instead of trying to translate your way out of what happened last night, zip your lips and head for the beach. There, toes in the sand, you'll be treated to a Mexican fusion breakfast that's sure to stave off last night's evil tequila worm. If you only drank white wine spritzers, you can pile on the fruit or a well-sugared croissant. But the rest of us will be having the $8 Gordita Benedict.
I was recently invited to try this and other Mexican delights during a trip hosted by the Los Cabos Convention and Visitors Bureau. The gordita, of course, is a staple here and surefire way to stave off any lingering effects of last night. Hand-patted rounds of fried masa dough emerge thick and warm, with a terrific crunch and soft interior. Pressed together at the edges, two flat pieces form a warm, inviting pocket, the perfect place for a helpful chef to stash porky nibbles of chicharrón and rich layers of mozzarella cheese.
On top of your gordita sits a perfectly poached egg, a sunny and runny reminder of you crawling back to your room as the sun came up. And over all of this rests a warm pool of Hollandaise sauce, infused with a few poblanos for heat and strength.
Each bite gives you fried pork, fried masa dough, cheese, egg, and poblano Hollandaise sauce. Staring out at the foaming surf and the ever-present horizon line, you may only be a couple of miles away from the cantinas of the previous evening, but you're a world away from any troubles you might have had.