Fear and Loathing in Tijuana. Part I


The Birthday Boy

Five grown ass men on the way to Tijuana packed into a 1995 Toyota Camry is gonna sound ridiculous to begin with, but this is what it was that day. It was my 19th birthday so I was just happy to get out of L.A. Within about an hour or two, we were all just about burnt out from all the bammer joints we smoked inside the car. To be completely honest, I really didn’t know what to expect from this trip I was just sold on the cheap beer, endless Tequila, wild Mexican women, and non stop partying. Basically, all the shit I would of easily sold my soul to the devil for at the time anyway.

I remember like it was yesterday. Once we crossed the border we tried to find a place to park. We pulled into a parking garage on some raggedy street with a shit load of potholes. We got out of the car and before we knew it we were approached by one of the locals who I will never forget in a million years because he had on this cocaine white suit from the 70’s , but it was exceptionally clean and not just clean but I  spot-free of dirt or dust as well as his all white snakeskin boots and white cowboy hat. Even until many years later, I always wonder how he kept that all white suit so fucking spotless considering where we were. He pointed to the paper in his hand and asked us if we wanted to party with some chicas and drink some cerveza. This was perfecto. We all agreed, and so we followed the little fella to investigate the situation.

We walked and talked among one another for about three blocks and eventually came up to a two story building with one flight of stairs for the entrance that appeared to have no visible doors or windows. Just the stairwell entrance that I figured was the exit too. Seemed a little strange but maybe this is normal in this city. If I ever had an opportunity to veto this decision and pull the plug, this certainly would have been the time to do it, but truth is I wasn’t gonna be the scary one who bitched out in Mexico. No not me, but in hindsight I wish I would have. To be completely frank, we were all probably thinking the same thing but mum was the word. I was the second person to go up the stairs and as I walked up I could hear some music playing and as we got closer we were greeted by a few workers once we made it to the top of the stairs. Now, me and the first friend were directed to a small table with two chairs by a small dark stage where several women which I perceived to be strippers were half naked just some titties out dancing to the music. “This might not be so bad after all” I said under my breath. This is my kinda place!!

La Carcel

The waitress or what I believed to be a waitress brought us two beers that we never asked for, but not only that they were already opened. See this is were things got even more confusing because within about a split second, I looked to my right and seen my other three friends turning right back around and going back down the stairs. At this point, I was forced to look to my left because one of the girls who was on top of the stage a few feet away walked up to us and pulled her stripper dress up and pulled her dick out.  Yup, you guessed it, these girls were lady-boys and we got duped.

We both jumped up out of our chairs simultaneously in a state of shock and left the beers we never touched or paid for right on the table. I was the first to the stairs with my friend right behind me when I felt one of the she males grab my arm and say “you need to pay for your beers”. I snatched my arm out of her vice like grip and said “Fuck you and your beers.” After about 20 seconds of arguing between us and them, we finally made it to the bottom of the stairs where there were several ladyboys blocking the exit refusing to let us leave. “Aww fuck,” I thought. This is bad.

“Ok, here’s the money for your beers”, I said. “No, no, no,” one of them says, “we don’t want your money anymore, we wait for the Policia, you two going to La Carcel!” “What the fuck is La Carcel,” my friend says. I quickly figured out that meant jail. My other three friends must of been quite a ways away because they returned a few minutes later with confused facial expressions and as you can imagine of course we never had time to bring them up to speed on this downward spiral. The Police or The Policia if you will, showed up on Que a few seconds later. Now, if you have never had the pleasure of visiting Tijuana back in the 90s, let me give you a quick illustration about what the Policia do exactly. They drive around with a pick up truck with all of the arrestees handcuffed to a rail on the pick up bed, only one hand was free none the less but this officer had to have at least four to five guys in the back of the truck. Primitive yes, shocking absolutely, dangerous and all the above yeah, that too.

This shit just went from bad to worse!

To be continued…..


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