All My Closest Friends in a Sinkhole

It was three days before my wedding and I was lost in Yucatan. And not just me, but three cars full of friends and close relations. I was convinced the road to Cuzama was right instead of left at the second pueblo outside of Merida. I think my internal map needed readjusting. I was stressed and the sun, as almost always, was blazing overhead, which makes thinking near impossible. In a caravan of cool maneovering, all three drivers managed to back up on the highway and take the correct exit south toward the region of cenotes.

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