Journey Through The Mexican Ghetto (part 5)

After sitting in the hot tub for a while, the coca in the plate next to it was finished. Our shortage forced to head back to the room, where we would finish what was left. This didn't take very long. By now, around 3am, we were very drunk, and very coked up. Jim was the most fired up, and he decided to go for a walk into the dark streets to find more action. After he left, Craig and I deliberated on whether or not to sleep before leaving town. Craig chose sleep, and I was still awake. Jim comes back to say he found absolutely nothing, and quit searching. We sat on the balcony and drank more; all the while, he is pestering me to get a cab, so we can go back to the other side of town. "More beer, more cigarettes, more girls, more blow!" he demands. I'm telling him the night is over, and it's probably dead downtown. For the next forty-five minutes, we go back and forth with the argument, and I finally give in just to shut him up. He goes to the office, wakes the clerk, and has him call us a cab.
Jim and I wait for a while outside and freeze our asses off in the process because the wind has whipped up a lot. Finally, the cab gets there, and there are two guys in the front, Jim and I get in the back. Neither of them speaks a lick of English, so I try to communicate with them in my broken Spanish. "Senorial y Babe's, es despacio?" "Si, Si." “Ok… coca?" "Si." "Seis cervezas?" "Si." "Cigarettes?" "Si." For those of you who understand no Spanish, that basically means that the downtown district was dead (as I told Jim it would be), but we were going to get the supplies we needed; cigarettes, beer, and blow. First, we pull up to a small house in a shitty neighborhood, "Cigarillos?" "Si, Marlboro Rojo." "Dinero? Viente pesos." All I had was a two-hundred peso bill, so I had to give him that. He gets out, goes up to a small peephole slot, gets a pack of smokes through it, and returns. After this, he drops off his friend in the front seat. Now we're driving out of town, out into the middle of nowhere, after a few minutes, we pull up to a lonesome pickup truck out in the dunes. He turns around and asks me "Cuando para la coca?" "Diezecinco dollares para la coca" "No, no; viente, cuarenta, sesenta dollares?" "Bien, viente dollares." Now I have to give him my five-hundred peso bill to get this shit, and I hope that change is returning, no matter though, because Jim was going to pay me back for this little journey. He gets out and walks up to this pickup truck, which has someone sitting in it, and as I stated, there was nothing else around for at least a mile. I think it was at this point that Jim and I were starting to get a little paranoid, believing that robbery and/or death was around the corner. The cabbie and his shady connection talk for a bit and he gets back in the cab. Jim asks to see the blow, but the cabbie is saying something about "Otro camino." Not being sure about what he means by this, we sit patiently in the back. We get back into town, and this guy is blazing down the backstreets. Next, we arrive on a corner, at the back of a building; he gets out, knocks on the backdoor, and receives a six-pack of Tecate. At this point, we believed that he had the cigarettes, coke, and beer. He was supposed to be taking us back to the hotel, but I noticed that he was driving very fast in the opposite direction. The paranoia was turning to nervousness. All of a sudden, he stops and gets out. No less than ten seconds later, two cars full of young men rush in from out of nowhere and flank us on both sides. This is when Jim and I look at each other, and are probably saying the same thing in our respective heads, Oh shit... Our driver is at another peephole, he is given a bundle, then he gets back in the car, and speeds away. Therefore, what we thought was about to be an ugly situation, was apparently nothing. But, can you blame us, when you're two white boys, buying drugs in a Mexican ghetto at 4.30am; such things happening are entirely possible.
So we sped back to the Vina Del Mar, and broke out our newly acquired supplies. After a beer and a couple lines, my stomach gives out, I’m puking into the toilet, and all I can taste is Tequila. A few minutes later, Jim is in the bathroom chopping up lines on the toilet, while I’m in the shower, washing my mouth out with Tecate, and spitting it down the drain. I do another line, and puke some more in the shower. Meanwhile Jim finds a storage room outside to shield us from the cold, so we’re able to hang out outside without freezing our asses off from the fierce ocean wind. He tells me to come out there, I do, and then I do another line. “Fuck this, I’m going inside.” I tell him. After a long hot shower, I go to bed, while Jim braves it out on the balcony, pounding Tecates, and finishing the blow.
I wake up a few minutes before checkout, and an hour before we have to leave the country, due to insurance regulations. I threw my shit in my bag, and we were off. Paraphrasing what Craig said, it was time to flee the scene of the crime. After a three and a half hour drive through the desert (while being beyond hung-over), we were back in Tempe. I open my apartment door, and am greeted with a big fat joint, and a square meal from Benny, who is staying at my place. We smoke the joint and Benny tells me an entertaining story about an ex-girlfriend of mine who performed live sex acts while I was in Mexico. Whatever… time for sleep.
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that's it, the Mexico story is done.