By MAUREEN DOWD

My spring break experiences were grisly. One year I went to San Juan, where a young Puerto Rican businessman I met at a cockfight tried to insist that I give him sexual favors because he once dated a girl who dated Elvis, and where my roommate and I got kicked out of a bar at gunpoint because some señoritas de la noche thought we were encroaching on their territory.

In Cancún, Girls Gone Mild, continued