And then, when I was sitting at the gate for the connecting flight from Houston to Puerto Vallarta, I made eye contact with a bulky man wearing a T-shirt that read “Some of you should have been swallowed” and a “DADDY” snapback, stylized in all caps. The owners responded, “We do understand, this is a very delicate issue but decision was made on majority our clients’ votes.”ĭespite all this advance scouting, it somehow didn’t quite click with me that Puerto Vallarta is a gaycation hot spot in much the same vein as Fire Island and Provincetown, which is to say glaringly cisgender. There was also a gay sauna smack in the middle of the neighborhood, for which most of the reviews were glowing, save for one: “I would have loved to go, but unfortunately after a phone conversation I learned that the policy views transgender men as ‘women,’ and that I am not welcome there,” one person wrote. On Google Maps, I scoured the Zona Romántica, the town’s gay enclave, bookmarking bars and taco stands that caught my eye. The hotel itself looked like a dream, situated right on the beach with the kind of clear turquoise water that brochures were made for. After accepting the press trip, I excitedly researched everything I could about Puerto Vallarta.
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