On the other hand, the place is swarming with a morass of tourists all donning swimsuits, drinking themselves sloppy and smoking the weed, which is a very strange concept when you consider that the other prime attraction here is cliff jumping. Yes, you read this correctly. A lawyer’s nightmare come true, you’ve got a queue fifty intoxicated people deep all clamoring for the chance to hurl themselves off the side of a 45-foot ledge into the aquamarine waters below. And while it may seem like an obviously horrendous idea to have cliff diving and booze in such close proximity to one another, my guess is that it somehow works, because the liquid courage helps shmucks like me muster up the cohones to risk their lives and conquer their fears.
But the real question is, am I glad I did it? No. My ass hurt for weeks.