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Trippin in Tijuana

Rufus Ryan

    It was early Monday morning; I was drunk and stoned. I was sitting in the back seat of a taxi, smoking a cig as I enjoyed the Mariachi music that was blaring from the taxi’s radio.
    After going through the border crossing checkpoint, we crossed over into Mexico and got on a highway: a highway that clearly showed the poverty of the city we were entering.
    As we cruised along, I enjoyed looking at the poor people and their poor city; because it made me appreciate all the luxuries I had in my life. But I didn’t get to enjoy my poverty sightseeing for too long. Because not long after we got on the Mexican highway, the driver put the pedal to the metal and made the beat-up 65 Chevy fly down the beat-up roadway. He was driving like a lunatic; aggressively swerving around the other lunatic drivers who were driving just as crazy as he was: they all were apparently in the same chaotic race, and they all apparently wanted to win.
    As we sped down the road, I thought, Wow, hundreds of people must die on this highway every year; maybe every month; I’m probably going to become one of them.
    To add to the taxi driver’s insane driving, there was the conditions of the road. The roadway was filled with mechanical debris and trash; but the huge potholes were the worst. And after hitting a few of the holes, I didn’t think we would make it a mile down the road.
    It all was a trip; I felt like I was in a video game, and I think the driver did too. And after my mind, which was blurred by drugs and alcohol, brushed aside the knowledge that I could meet instant-death at any moment, I started to enjoy the ride. I put my head out the window and I screamed into the fast wind, “Ándale! Ándale! AHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!”
    I put my head back in the car. “Woo, this is fun. This is living!”
    After cutting off a car, the driver turned down the volume of the radio. With one hand on the wheel and one on the top of the passenger’s seat, he turned back and smiled at me. “Si, Fun! Yi yi yi YEEEEEEEEE Eh Eh Eh Eh Eh YA YA YA YA YA YAAAAAAAEEEEEE!”
    His scream startled me, and it showed me that he was enjoying life. He was pumped up! He was ready; no doubt.
    After letting out the last of his war cry, he turned back around, turned his radio back up, and put his attention back to driving his death trap.
    When we arrived at the hotel the driver quickly pulled his race car right in front of the hotel’s office. After slamming on his brakes, we skidded to a complete stop. Then he looked back at me and smiled. He said something in Spanish. I didn’t understand one word he said, but I knew he was asking for the taxi fare. I pulled a joint from my cig pack and waved it in the air. “Si, mi amigo?”
    He handed me a lighter. “Si, si, mi amigo.”
    I smiled. Then I ran the joint under my nose while I sniffed it. “Now here’s a language we both speak.”
    We passed the joint back and forth to each other until it was smoked. Then the driver put out his hand. I didn’t now how much to pay him. We were experiencing a communication problem; one that really mattered because of the money factor. I came up with an idea. I put several peso bills in my hand and put my hand out towards him. He took most of the bills from my hand. I didn’t know if he took too many or not, but I didn’t care. I figured he got me to the hotel alive, and that was worth more then money.
    I got out of his taxi and he quickly peeled away. I figured he was in a hurry to get back to the race.
    Before going to the hotel’s office, I looked over my drug deal instructions.
    After going over the instructions, I went to the hotel’s office; which was like a bank’s drive-thru window. It had thick bulletproof glass window, and a hole at the bottom of it used to make hand exchanges; it also had a couple of bullet holes in it; so I guess it wasn’t really bulletproof.
    I asked the clerk if he spoke English. He gave me a big toothless grin. “Si, amigo.”
    I told him I had a reservation and I handed him my fake I.D. He looked it over and then passed it back. He seemed like he knew something was up with me and the hotel room. But I didn’t know if he was on my team or not, because the instructions didn’t say anything about a toothless hotel clerk.
    He shot me another toothless grin. Then he pushed an empty tequila bottle that had a key connected to it, through the exchange hole. I grabbed the bottle. Then he pointed toward a row of garages. I said, “Gracias.”
    He smiled his toothless grin.
    I found the garage door with the same number that was on the tequila bottle. I opened up the garage. Once inside the garage, I closed the garage door quickly. Then I went up some stairs that led to the room.
    After getting situated in the room, I pulled my bag of meth from my book bag and I started snorting lines. In between snorting lines, I called the phone number that, Juan, my employer, told me I would have to call after I got to the hotel. It was one of his Mexican associates. They answered the phone. “Bueno.”
    I hesitated. I froze. I was nervous. I couldn’t get the code words out of my mouth. But after a few moments of hesitation, I got the words out. “Ya es tiempo.”
    I hung up the phone after telling them ‘it is time’. Then I just started pacing around the room as I waited for the contact to arrive. As I paced around the room I would glance out the window every time I went by it. I’d take breaks from my pacing, so I could snort some more meth. I would sit on the bed, do a few lines, then I would jump up, and make a round around the room. I kept up the same routine for a couple hours; chain smoking cigs all the while.
    About an hour later, I heard three car horn honks: the signal that my contact was ready for me to let them in the garage. I looked out the window and seen an old beat up Impala. I went down to the garage and opened the garage door. The Impala pulled in and I shut the garage door. Then I prepared to greet the driver. I expected to see a macho, tough looking bandito strut from the Impala. Instead, a beautiful Mexican woman with long brown hair, got out of the car. She had short shorts on and a top that was more like a bra. She had a great body, and she wasn’t leaving much to the imagination. While looking at her, I thought, She definitely wasn’t in the instructions, I would have remembered reading about her.
    She smiled at me. “Hola, gringo, yo habla espanol?”
    “Si, poco espanol. Como estas hermosa senorita?”
    She smiled again. “Bien, gringo, bien, gracias.”
    I knew I couldn’t have a conversation with her in Spanish, but I hoped that she was impressed with the little Spanish I spoke. I asked her, “Yo habla ingles?”
    Again she smiled. And with her thick accent, she said, “Sure do, gringo.”
    I felt a relief. And I wasn’t offended at all that she kept calling me gringo: I was a gringo.
    I said, “My name is Rufus and I liked to invite you up for a drink.”
    “My name is Tia, and I liked to come up for drink. How old, Rufus?”
    “I’m 21.”
    “Where from?”
    “Born and raised in San Diego.”
    “Beach dude, cute. Blonde hair gets plenty of sun...you have nice body?”
    “Yea, I think I do...”
    She let out a cute giggle. “You don’t know?”
    I blushed. “Yea, I mean, I don’t know. I guess I’m a pretty modest person.”
    “I like that in guy. Like your blue eyes, too, the ocean, I see.”
    I blushed again. “Cool...I mean thanks.”
    “So, is first time in TJ?”
    “Yea, it is.”
    She flashed her cute smile. “Better get to business.”
    “Drinks first, alright, ok...”
    “Sure, gracias.”
    I grabbed her hand and led her up to the room.
    When we got to the room we sat across from each other at a table that was near the room’s bed. I poured the vodka and orange juice in a couple of hotel cups, then I stirred the drinks with my middle finger, because I didn’t take the time to look for something else to stir the drinks with. After using my finger as a stirrer, I realized I shouldn’t have put my dirty finger in her drink, but it was too late; I couldn’t turn back time. I just hoped she would still drink her drink. I hoped she wasn’t afraid of my germs. I hoped she wasn’t offended by my inconsiderate rudeness. I hoped she would sleep with me.
    I pushed her glass towards her. She smiled. “Screwdriver?”
    My sick mind thought about her saying the word screw. I said, “Yes, a screwdriver. Do you like screwdrivers?”
    “Yes...I do.”
    I smiled. Then I lifted my cup for a cheers. Tia tapped my cup with hers, then she took a small sip while I took a huge gulp.
    I was trying to be a gentlemen, but my nature prevented me from pulling the act off. After taking my big gulp, some of my drink ran down my chin and onto my shirt.
    She giggled. “So you know, several kilos in the trunk of car. After I leave, 2 guys come here, honk three times like me, and do rest of business, ok?”
    “Yea, that’s all in the instructions.”
    “Instructions?”
    “Yea, Juan thinks I have trouble remembering things.”
    I handed her the piece of paper that had the instructions written on it.. She looked them over, then she giggled.
    I laughed. “Yea, I’m an idiot.”
    After about an hour of talking and drinking, I asked if she wanted to snort some meth. “No, no...my beauty, no mess up.”
    “Yea, you sure are beauty...I mean beautiful.”
    She giggled.
    I started to stare into her beautiful eyes: they were mesmerizing. While I got lost in her eyes, I thought of Titty: my former cellmate at Stolsom Prison, a self-proclaimed Casanova, a convict who had spent fifty of his years inside of prisons, an elderly Mexican man who had saggy, man-titties; hence his nickname. Titty had told me that Mexican women were great lovers. I believed him, but I told him I would have to see for myself. He encouraged me to do so when I got my freedom back. Well, I was free, and ready to see for myself.
    As I gazed at her, she gazed back at me; keeping her beautiful smile on her face the whole time. I knew she was reading my mind: something else Titty told me that Mexican women were capable of doing. Titty was a wise man, but I had to get him out of my mind. I didn’t want to think about his wisdom or his titties anymore, I wanted to think about Tia’s titties. Her tits were beautiful, firm, and shaped perfectly.
    I took my eyes off her eyes. I looked at her tits. I smiled.
    She smiled back at me. “Want to lay with me on bed, Rufus?”
    “Yea... yea I do.”
    I knew she was reading my mind.
    We both laid on the bed next to each other with our backs against the wall. Then I pulled a joint from my cig pack and I fired it up. I took a hit and passed the joint to her. She put it in her mouth as she climbed on top of me. While sitting on my prick, with her smooth legs resting against my hairy legs, she puffed on the joint. She took about three hits, and after every hit, she blew the smoke in my face. I loved the smell of weed, so it didn’t bother me at all that she was blowing it in my face; it was kinky.
    After blowing smoke at me, she put the joint in the ashtray. Then she took off all of her clothes; which only took her about 10 seconds. Her naked body was the most beautiful sight I had ever seen. I was quickly aroused. And she quickly exposed my arousal by frantically ripping off all my clothes.
    I just laid on my back for two hours straight as she did all the work. It was the best sex I had ever had.
    After we finished we got dressed and sat back at the table. I made 2 more screwdrivers, and she started sipping again and I started gulping again. We had a great after-sex conversation. She told me more about her life and I told her more about mine: something that odd people do before they have sex.
    While I was telling Tia about my time in prison, I thought about Titty. And I accidentally said something out loud that I really just wanted to say in my mind, “Titty was right...TITTY WAS RIGHT!”
    Tia gave me a confused look. I explained to her what Titty told me about Mexican women. She said, “Now know for yourself, right.”
    “Yes...yes I do.”
    She smiled. “Have to go. Nice meeting you.”
    I didn’t want her to leave.
    She called the front desk and started talking to the desk clerk in Spanish. After she hung up the phone she gathered her stuff. Then I walked her down to the garage. When we got to the garage door, I said, “Will I ever see you again?”
    She smiled. “Maybe, hope so. I like you. Got to go, taxi.”
    I opened the garage’s door. She gave me a passionate kiss good bye and then she started walking away. I watched her beautiful ass move from side to side until she was out of sight; then I went back to the room.
    When I got back to the room I laid on the bed and started smoking a cig.. I was still feeling real great from the sex with Tia. I was relaxed, but I was speeding too, so I was feeling awkwardly relaxed.
    After awhile of laying on the bed and thinking about Tia, I got up and made myself another screwdriver; and after slamming it, I did some lines of meth. Then I started chain smoking cigs as I paced the room. I started to tweak from all the meth I was doing. I was getting really paranoid and anxious. And after about 50 laps around the room, I heard 3 honks. I thought, Three is the magic number.
    I looked out the window and seen another beat up Chevy Impala. I went down to the garage and opened up the garage door. Two tough looking guys got out of the car and then the Impala pulled away. The tough guys introduced themselves as friends of Juan. I told them Juan was my friend too. Then we all walked in the garage.
    Once we were in the garage they told me it would take them about 2 hours to put the dope from the trunk into the tires. I nodded my head. Then they suggested I go to a bar in downtown Tijuana, while they were putting the dope in the tires. I thought it was a good idea, so I told them I would.
    I went up to the room and I grabbed my book bag, but I left my meth and pot under the bed’s mattress. But before I put the meth underneath the mattress, I snorted about five lines. Then I grabbed the tequila bottle key chain and I went back down to the garage. I told the guys I would be back in two hours. They nodded their heads. I walked out of the garage, and they closed the garage door behind me.
    I went to the clerk and I asked him to get me a taxi. He showed me his toothless grin. “Si, taxi. No problemo.”
    “Mucho gracias.”
    All of sudden I started hallucinating. The toothless clerk’s face became blurry. I wanted the hallucinations to stop. I didn’t want to see blurry faces on my trip to the bar. I looked away from the clerk. I looked at the beautiful blue sky. I closed my eyes and thought about how fast my life would pass me by, and how there was nothing I could do about it. I opened my eyes and I looked back at the clerk. His face was back to normal. I said, “Audios.”
    “Audios, careful out there.”
    “Yea... I will.”
    I walked out to the street to wait for the taxi.
    I was tweaking harder and harder from the meth, and I was getting really paranoid about everything. I smoked cig after cig as I waited for the taxi.
     As I was waiting, I saw two women talking to a taxi driver that was stationed under a tree across the street from where I was standing. I figured he was waiting for someone. As I peered over at the taxi, I noticed the women trying to wave me over. I hollered at them, “No gracias.”
    I figured the young ladies were trying to tell me the taxi was available, but I wanted to wait for the taxi the clerk had called for me. Because I thought the women could be trying to setup me up for a robbery, or maybe a good time, and I wasn’t in the mood for either.
    I continued to stand in the hot summer weather as I waited for my taxi. My tweaking continued to intensify, and I continued to chain smoke cigs as I watched all the poor, skinny kids play in and around the streets near the hotel. Some of the kids got close enough to where I could see their young, dirty faces that showed their suffering. But where I could really see their sadness, was in their eyes. It made me sad to think about what they probably had to go through, because I knew I couldn’t do anything to help them; and apparently my rich country couldn’t either. I wanted to start hallucinating again so their faces would become blurred: so I wouldn’t have to see their lives in their eyes.
    As I pondered about the poor kids lives, all of a sudden a Mexican cop car rolled up on me with it’s flashers on. In San Diego my natural reaction would have been to run, but I knew better to run from Mexican police; who I knew were aggressive towards American tourists.
     I was stunned by the cop’s quick appearance from nowhere. If I would have had shit in my digestive system, it would have came out. But instead of shitting my pants, my shock caused my lips to let go of the cig I had hanging in my mouth.
    The cops pulled within inches of my legs. I didn’t know what to do; so I didn’t do anything. I just watched the two cops get out of the car and aggressively approach me. I started freaking out as I watched the cops march towards me. I thought I was going to have a panic attack. I quickly thought why the cops could have possibly been called on me, and when I couldn’t think of any reason. I thought, Maybe instead of calling me a taxi for me...the toothless son-of-a-bitch called the cops for me.
    As the cops approached me, I started sweating profusely from the combination of the weather and the sudden pressure put on me by the cops interference in my life. I thought they were going to arrest me right away, and bust me for the drugs that were in my hotel room’s garage. My mind was racing. I was tripping. I prepared to get arrested. I had a feeling that I was in a situation that was going to lead to many more bad situations. I knew what happened to gringos in Mexican jails. I knew what happened to Mexicans in Mexican jails. I was terrified by my thoughts.
    In perfect English, one of the cops told me to put my hands on the hood of their car. I tensed up as I put my hands on their car’s black hood. My hands started burning; I didn’t think I was going to be able to keep them on the hood. But I thought if I took them off I might get shot. So my suffering had started.
    They didn’t handcuff me right away, so I thought maybe they didn’t know about the drugs I was harboring. The cop that was doing all the talking, started harassing me right away. “Listen very clearly to every word I say. You don’t, I’ll beat your ass. Got it?”
    “Yea, for sure.” I said.
    “My name is Officer Kick-Your-Ass. And my partners name is none of your business. Now, put your book bag on the hood of the car.”
    “Alright, no problemo.”
    “Don’t problemo me, gringo.”
    I took off my book bag and put it on the hood of the car. “Officer Kick-Your-Ass”, who’s partner was staying silent as death, told me to empty out my pockets and put everything I had in them on the hood of the car.
    “No, sir... I mean no problem, sir.”
    Both cops gave a mean look.
    The first thing I pulled from my pocket was the bottle key chain that was hanging half way out of my pocket. I put it on the car’s hood. After putting it on the hood, I realized the cops would know, if they didn’t already know because of the fact that I was standing across the street from the hotel, that I was staying at the hotel.
    After momentarily stalling to think about the realization the hotel key gave me, I continued to empty my pockets. I put my pack of cigs, my lighter, and my Mexican money on the hood of the car. Then I told the cops my pocket were empty. Then they frisked me and checked all my pockets. They seemed satisfied I didn’t have anything else on me, so they told me to sit on the hood and relax.
    How could I fucking relax; the assholes.
    They dumped the contents of my book bag out on the hood of their car. They sorted through the stuff, and that’s when they found my small pocket knife. Kick-Your-Ass looked at it as he held it in his hand. He said, “Deadly weapon...illegal in Mexico.”
    I thought, A knife... illegal in Mexico...what the fuck. But I wasn’t ready to argue with them about anything.
    I nervously gulped before telling him that I didn’t know it was illegal to bring a knife into Mexico. They both shook their heads. Then they continued to look through all the stuff that was in my book bag.
    After they sorted through the rest of my possessions, Kick-Your-Ass started to shoot rapid fire questions at me. He was really putting pressure on me; which increased my anxiety even more. I tried to think of a way out of the situation. I knew the Mexican cops were notorious for taking bribes, but I wasn’t ready to offer them one.
    The terrifying questioning started.
    Kick-Your-Ass said, “You on drugs? Take off your sun glasses.”
    I slowly took off my sun glasses; in order to buy a little time so I could decide if I should lie or not.
    He raised his voice and asked me the question again.
    “No, officer Kick-My-Ass, I’m not on drugs.”
    He grabbed my throat and started squeezing my trachea. “You being smart with me.”
    I shook my head, because I couldn’t talk while his hand was choking me; I could barely breath.
    He let go of his death grip.
    While I tried to regain my breath and composure, I thought to myself about my answer about being on drugs, Fuck, the white of my eyes are probably solid red... I’m clearly on drugs, and they will know it...I’m dead...I’m dead...what have I got myself into...FUCK!
    Kick-Your-Ass put his hand on my shoulder. “Ok, then you won’t mind taking a drug test.”
    I knew I would fail a drug test, so I admitted I was on drugs. I said to the cop, “Lo siento, sir, I have lied to you. I have been taking some drugs today.”
    Just like with Tia, I hoped the cops would respect me more for my ability to use some of their native tongue; though, it seemed he didn’t. I thought Tia did, though; she treated me great.
    Kick-Your-Ass gave me a mean look. “I don’t like liars. Don’t lie to me again, gringo! Or I’ll slam your ass on the concrete and break every bone in your body.”
    “Lo siento, I won’t lie again.”
    He looked at my fake I.D. Then he asked me what kind of work I did in America. I lied again. I told him I did construction work. Then he aggressively grabbed my hand and felt it for calluses: something a construction worker would surely have.
    I thought I was caught in another lie: my hands were smooth. I thought I was dead. I thought my bones were going to be broken; all of them.
    Kick-Your-Ass might have been a prick, but he was no dummy. He knew how to interrogate someone. He knew how to put fear in someone.
    Luckily, he didn’t accuse me of lying about being a construction worker. But he almost caught me in another lie. “What are you doing in Mexico.” Said Kick-Your-Ass.
    I thought, Great fucking question...what the fuck am I doing in Mexico...I didn’t come here for this...if get out of this situation, I’m never coming back...the odds are against me here....and this fucking cop knows how to ask every question that will cause me to lie to him.
    I lied again. “I’m just visiting, sir. You have a great country here.”
    “No bullshit, you think we have a nice country here... I no where I live, got it?”
    “Yes, sir.”
    I was really freaking out when I thought about all the lies I was telling the cop who didn’t like liars. But I knew, unless he knew about the drugs already, he wouldn’t know for sure if I was lying or not about just visiting Mexico.
    After asking me the question about what I was doing in Tijuana, the two cops walked a few feet away and had a little chat in Spanish. When they finished their chat they approached me again. They started telling me again about how the knife was illegal to have in Mexico. That they were going to have to take me to jail.
    As soon as I heard the word jail, I started pleading with them. “Lo siento, lo siento! I didn’t know I couldn’t bring a knife into Mexico. HONEST!”
    “DON”T YELL AT ME! It’s going to be jail for you. It will cost you 4,000 pesos to get out.”
    “I only have about 200 pesos, sir. I won’t be able to get out.”
    “You should have thought about that before you brought a knife in to this WONDERFUL country your in.”
    “Please, please, please. Honestly, I didn’t know I couldn’t have a knife here.”
    The cops looked at each other. I looked at all the sweat on my arms. A few moments later, Kick-Your-Ass said, “You seem like a nice guy. We might be able to give you a break.”
    He lifted up my peso bills from the hood of the car. I knew what he was hinting at. I told him I would be really grateful for the break, but I didn’t want to be accused of bribing him. “I wouldn’t want to bribe you, but what can I do.”
    He put my money in his pockets. “You can have a nice day.”
    Before he gave me back my liberty, he double checked my wallet to make sure I wasn’t holding out. Then he said, “You have no worries. Put your stuff in your book bag and pockets and just walk away.”
    I quickly filled my book bag and my pockets with my stuff, except for my pocket knife, which I left on the hood of their car. Then I started to walk away from the cops. I got a few feet away from them and I turned and said, “Mucho gracias, mucho gracias.”
    They both smiled. Then they got back in their car, but they didn’t pull away.
    I had never been more relived in my life to walk away from other humans: humans who abused their power in order to get a little money. I was experiencing the greatest relief I had ever felt. I felt like it was all meant to be, everything played out the way it was suppose to. I felt the same way I did when I was released from prison: finally free to go on with my life.
    Instead of going back to the hotel room, I decided to go to a bar. I didn’t want to go back to the hotel room because I feared other cops might be there waiting to bust me at the room where the drugs were. So I just started walking away.
    As I walked away, I wanted to look back to see if the cops were gone, but I just looked straight ahead.
     About 5 minutes later, I made it to a street that I thought for sure I would get mugged on. I was in bad shape geographically and physically. My shirt was drenched with sweat, I was dehydrated from the meth, my leg muscles hurt, and I was really thirsty. I didn’t think I’d make it much further; but I inherited some never give up will power from my Dad; so I was able to stay strong mentally and physically.
    I kept walking non-stop down the dangerous streets. I did not want to stop for any reason. As I walked down the streets I encountered people; luckily, no muggers. Everybody was staring at me like I was from a different planet; I felt like I was from a different planet. I greeted people with, ‘Como estas’. Most replied with, ‘Bien’ or ‘hola’; some ignored me completely. Though most people were being really friendly, some people looked at me like I was crazy: I was crazy. They easily detected my insanity; it was hard to miss. I figured only the other crazy people were the only ones who couldn’t see my insanity.
    About an hour after I started my insane trek, I got to a sidewalk right next to the major highway. I could tell I was near the border because of the massive traffic congestion. I could have tried to make it to the border, but I wanted to eventually get back to the hotel to check if my money was there. I was gambling big time. My greed drive was in overdrive, and I chose to try to get money instead of trying to get home.
    I decided to take a taxi the rest of the way to the bar, but I reached in my pocket and I realized I had no money after paying off the cops. Luckily, I found a guy who spoke English. I asked him if he thought a taxi driver would take me to an ATM machine. He told me he could get me one who would. He also gave me a bottle of water for free. I drank the whole bottle in about 5 seconds. I thanked the guy over and over for giving me the water.
    About ten minutes later the taxi was there to pick me up. I thanked the kind, generous man who helped me survive. Then I hopped in the taxi’s front seat; because the driver’s whole family was in the back seat. I waved goodbye to my new friend as we pulled away from the curb.
    By the time we got to the ATM machine it was getting dark outside. The location of the ATM machine could not have not been in a worse place; unless it would have been in a prison’s cell block. It was on a corner of street that should have been named Mugger’s Paradise. There were dark alleys all around, no cops walking around, and about ten people walking around with hooded jackets on. I was counting on getting mugged.
    I got out of the car and went to the ATM. The ATM machine was tough to figure out because it was totally in Spanish. I kept trying to figure it out as the driver kept hollering at me to hurry up, because he obviously knew I was in a perfect position to get robbed. It was taking me a long time to figure how to get money out of the ATM machine. I was giving the muggers, who were smoking there last crack-rock and were going to be in need for more money to buy more rocks, the extra time they needed to get to where I was so they could rob me. Luckily, I finally got two hundred American dollars out of the fucking machine. I quickly got back in the taxi, just as I seen a few hooded thugs walking towards me. Fate’s timing was perfect; I wasn’t supposed to get mugged.
    I jumped back in the car and we sped off. I told him to take me to a grocery store. We got to the store and I told the driver I would be back out in a minute.
    I walked through the door of the parallel universe. It was a trip. I felt like I didn’t belong: I didn’t belong. It looked similar to American grocery stores, just without any Americans in it. I got a big bottle of water. I also bought some candy for the taxi driver’s kids. I paid for the stuff. Then the cashier gave me a receipt and I walked toward the exit.
    Before I got out of the store I drank the whole bottle of water. I walked back to the aisle with the bottled water and grabbed another bottle. I paid the cashier for the water. She gave me another receipt.
    I got back in the taxi and I told the driver to take me to a bar. As we pulled away I asked the driver if it was alright if I gave his kids some candy; he told me it was alright. I gave them the candy and they munched it down quick. I gave his wife a candy bar too.
    We got to the bar and I paid the driver. The taxi quickly pulled away. I looked around at my new surroundings. The rulers of darkness were all around. With about a hundred eyes on me, I walked into the bar.
    I sat at the bar and I started drinking a beer. While I drank, I started thinking about the decisions I was going to have to make; the ones that were either going to get me jailed, killed, or back home. I had to decide whether or not to go back to the hotel and see if my money was there, or to take a taxi straight back to San Diego and forget about the money.
    I kept drinking beer after beer while I puffed on cig after cig. I really wanted to smoke some weed to help calm my nerves and to feed my dependency. I knew I could find some to buy in the bar, and I didn’t have to wait to long until I got an opportunity to buy a joint. Several guys approached me with joints for sale. I bought two. I didn’t want to go outside and smoke the joint, so I asked the bartender, who spoke English, if I could smoke weed at the bar. He told me I could, so I fired up one of the joints. I had my beer in my left hand and a joint in my right hand. I was enjoying myself again.
    I felt much better after I smoked the joint. I was also beginning to feel drunk. The already interesting bar scene became even more interesting. I felt comfortable in my temporary home.
    After thousands of more moments chugging beer and looking at myself in the mirror that was behind the bar, I turned my bar stool around to see what was going on behind me. And what caught my attention first was the table full of Mexican women; that I was sure were all prostitutes. One of the young ladies in particular caught my eye. She had long dyed blond hair, which contrasted her long black eyelashes. She was looking really sexy. She gave me a couple glances, along with a couple smiles as she walked around her table of fellow employees. I knew her glances and smiles didn’t make me special. I knew she was just looking for some money.
    I had a beautiful girl just across the border in America to satisfy me sexually, but I was really craving some female company; and I just couldn’t wait until I got home: if I got home. I thought, I’ll just talk to her...I just need a female around me...She could just talk to me...I could pay her for that.
    I waved the beautiful fake-blonde over to me. She slowly walked towards me, looking sexier with every step she took. She got to me and gently put her hand on my shoulder. I asked her if she spoke English. She smiled. “I sure do, gringo.”
    She took a seat next to me at the bar. I smiled and said, “Wow, I have only been here one day and I have been called a gringo about 10 times.”
    She laughed. “Don’t take offense, we are just used to referring to you as gringos.”
    “Oh, well, no offense taking then.”
     We continued to talk as I drank more beer and she just watched me drink. While I made my mind more capable of making bad decisions, I decided whether or not to let the blonde senorita get paid by me: for something more then just talking to me. I always told myself I would never pay to have a women touch me where it counted, but the blonde senorita was too tempting. She was touching me with magic fingers; slowly running them down my face as she stared into my eyes. Her luring charm was irresistible
    I put out my hand and my pretty blonde companion took my hand and guided me to a back room of the bar.
    The back room just had a dirty mattress on the floor and a table with a candle on it. We laid on the mattress and she went to work. I watched the bugs crawl on the floor while she pleasured me. It was a trip: a quick trip.
    After she finished her job, I said to her, “Mucho gracias para su tiempo.”
    I handed her some money. She smiled. “Bienvinido, Me gusta gringos.”
    I went back to the bar and she went back to her table. I ordered another beer as I watched her shoot glances at other guys in the bar. I thought, What was her name...What did I just do...Was it worth it.
    My thoughts made me feel like a sexually-dirty, drunk loser: I was a drunk loser, but I was having fun. I was celebrating my escape from the terrorizing cops. I was living in The Now.
    I started thinking about my next moves. I figured the cops had to be either done busting my associates at the hotel room, or my associates didn’t get busted at all. I figured if they didn’t get busted there was a chance they left the money they owed me. So I decided to go back to the hotel room to see if the money was there.
    I was ready to leave the bar. I was out-of-my-mind drunk. I walked away from the bar, and as I did, the blonde senorita I had fun with waved bye to me. I smiled at her as I staggered towards the exit. Again, I thought, What was her name!
    Once I was outside the bar I was quickly surrounded by the shady people of Tijuana’s street nightlife. The dealers, the pimps, the prostitutes, and the hustlers all approached me offering some kind of deal. They were looking to make money, and I was almost broke, so I refused all their offers. Then I got in the first taxi I could flag down. After I jumped in his taxi, the driver said, “What hotel?”
    I couldn’t think of the name of the hotel. I reached in my pocket and I tried to find the drug deal instructions. I couldn’t find the instructions, and I was glad I couldn’t find them. I realized if I would have had them in my pocket when the cops searched me, I would have been busted.
    I didn’t know the address of the hotel, but I did know the street name. I said, “The hotel that’s on International Ave.”
    The driver laughed. “There’s a lot of hotels on that street.”
    I got an idea. I showed him the tequila bottle key chain. He started laughing after seeing the key chain. As he chuckled, he put the car in drive and we drove away.
    We got to the hotel and I paid the driver. He quickly roared off.
    As I staggered towards the hotel I looked for cops. I didn’t see any cops cars around, so I went to the room. On the way to the room I passed by the hotel’s office; it was unavoidable and necessary for me to get to the room. The toothless clerk gave me the same toothless grin he did every time he saw me. I wished I had a toothless grin to shoot back at him. But I didn’t , so I just waved. Then I pointed in the direction of my room. “Es policia?”
    “No policia, me amigo.”
    “Mucho gracias, me amigo.”
    I walked to the garage door of my room.
    And despite my careless, drunk state of mind, I was well aware of the possible consequences of opening the garage door. I slowly opened the garage door and walked in. I didn’t get arrested; I figured I was in the clear. I noticed the car was gone. Great, I thought, they got away with the drugs, or did the cops take the car.
    Feeling as paranoid as a black man would after getting an invitation to a Klan meeting, I ran up the stairs that led to the room.
    I got in the room and looked around. I noticed there was a paper shopping bag on the bed. I looked in the bag. There was money in it. I couldn’t believe it, but I wasn’t going to sit around and think about the welcomed surprise. I put the bag of money in my book bag. Then I pulled the mattress off the bed and found my drugs. They were in the exact spot I left them. I didn’t want any drugs on me, and I also didn’t want to leave them in the room, so I flushed the meth and pot down the toilet, then I left the hotel room.
    I went to the clerk, gave him the key chain and told him I was checking out of the room. He smiled his toothless grin. “Need taxi?”
    I looked right in his eyes. “Si taxi, no policia.”
    He smiled his toothless grin again as he nodded his head. He called for a taxi and I waited right by the office, instead of out on the street like I did the first time he called me a taxi.
    When the taxi pulled up out on the street, I smiled at the hotel clerk. “Mucho gracias, audios.”
    And like always, he smiled his toothless grin at me while he waved goodbye: he was apparently a happy man who liked to smile, despite having no teeth. I didn’t know what the hotel clerk knew, but I had a strong feeling he was connected to my employer Juan.
    I got in the taxi. “To America, por favor.”
    The driver spoke perfect English. “Sure, no problem.”
    His perfect English scared me. I thought, Is he a cop...taxi drivers don’t speak perfect English, do they?
    I became very nervous. I was weary of the driver’s intentions. I didn’t know if he was going to take me home or take me to jail.
    On the way to the border crossing I smoked cig after cig. I knew I still had to make it through the border crossing with all the drug money I had on me. I knew it was going to be a lottery if we made it across the border without getting stopped, and I was either going to win or lose. If I won, I would be ten grand richer and have my beautiful girlfriend Lilly back in my arms. If I lost I was going to get locked up.
    It was around eleven at night when we got to the border crossing. The driver hadn’t said one word to me after he had said his first words to me. It was a terrifying ride.
    We got in the line of cars and waited. As we got closer and closer to the border entrance, the drug dog’s barks got louder and louder. I wondered if they could smell drug money.
    Border patrol agents were walking along side of cars peering inside car windows; before they talked to the drivers. When the agents got to the car in front of us the dogs started barking when they got to the rear of the car. The agents had the car pull to the side, then they started aggressively pulling people out of the car. Then the agents waved us pass, and we crossed onto American soil. I won the lottery.
    I was ecstatic as we rolled passed the agents, but I didn’t let it show, for obvious reasons. The driver looked at me through the rearview mirror just after we rolled passed the agents. He smiled at me. I didn’t know what to think of his smile, so I left my face expressionless. The driver laughed. Then he hand me a piece of paper. It was my drug deal instructions. I said, “Where did you get this?”
    “Tia, gave it to me. She didn’t think you should have a document explaining what illegal activities you were doing.”
    “That’s right... I let her see the instructions...wait, how do you know Tia?”
    “Rufus, I know everybody that you know. I’m on your team. Now, you ready to go home?”
    “Yea...FUCK YEA!”
    The mysterious driver got me home safe. I gave him 1,000 dollars from my take. I said, “Tell Juan that I’m retiring from this business. Thanks for getting me home.”
    “I will, and you’re welcome.”
    I got out of the taxi and walked toward my apartment. Lilly came running towards me, and as she did, I thought about how I betrayed her trust.
    When she reached me, she hugged and kissed me. “I missed you, Rufus.”
    “I was only gone a day.”
    “Yea, but it seemed like you were gone for years.”
    “Well, it felt like years. And I could have been gone for years if I wouldn’t have made the right decisions.”
    Lilly sneered at me. “What happened. Did you almost get arrested again?”
    I kissed her forehead. “Let’s go inside. I feel dirty and I want to take a shower before we make love.”

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