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BartCop in a Mexican Jail
...the Final Chapter
I don't remember why, but I walked to the back of the cell where the passed out person and the window was.
Wait ---- there was no window, there were just bars.
That means everything!
There were no windows in this jail.
Looking back, I realize people walking by could hand us drugs,
or a gun or anything we wanted.
Twenty-six years later, I realize that for the first time. That
I'll ad to the story in a minute.
So an American looking guy walks by and says, "Do you need any help?"
ha ha
Noooooo. I'm drunk and innocent in a Mexican jail - why
would I need any help?
(This was a big-ass set-up from the word go, but I didn't know
it at the time.)
The guy asked what happened, we told him, and he says, "How
much cash you got?"
Like the idiot, I told him, $200 or whatever it was.
He said, "Fine, hand it to me."
I said, "Oh, right, like I'm going to hand my money thru the
bars to some guy walking on the street?
How stupid do you think I am? You'll just take this money
and run away..."
He said, "Fine - you don't need my help,
stay there - I don't care," and he started to walk off,
so I screamed, "OK, OK, here's our money," and I
handed him a bundle of bills thru the bars.
Sidebar:
We were in such a bad situation, he didn't
need to do much of an acting job to sway me.
Koresh, Tom Cruise could've
talked me out of my money that night.
So he grabs the money, and instead of running, he walks around
the corner, knocks on the jail entrance
door, came inside and started speaking Spanish to our captors.
He handed them some of my cash,
and one of the federales reached into his string o' keys
and punched a key into that Yale lock.
As the door opened, there was no room for light between me and
that door.
As that door opened, me and Carl were out of that cell and out
that front door.
Rudely, we didn't thank anybody for shit - we just walked
very very fast towards the car.
The car was there, but no Brad or Bobby, so now we're back to
searching the bars for them.
Before long, we found them drinking beer, each with an extra-fine
senorita
on his lap.
They said, "Hey, have a beer - where
you guys been?"
I said, "We've been in fucking jail - let's get out of here
right now!"
They wanted to stay, but I can be very persuasive when
I need to be.
So we jump in his brand-new gold Thunderbird and headed for Texas.
We were lost (four drunks in a car in a strange country) so we
stopped to ask the friendly
people of Reynosa for directions on how to get to the Texas border
crossing.
We saw a fellow, and since I knew ten words in Spanish, I yelled
to him.
"Como se Texas?
"Donde queda la Texas?"
I mean Duh!
What the hell else could Americans in a border town be
asking with the word "Texas" in the sentence?
The friendly fellow said, "Oh, Texas
- (he points)...two
blocks, ...right, ...one block."
Thank yew!
We were only three blocks from freedom.
So we did what the fellow said - we went two blocks, made a right
- ...total darkness.
So we head towards the town again, and flagged down another pedestrian.
"Donde queda la Texas?" I said, and the very friendly fellow
said,
"Texas? One block, ...left, ...two blocks,
...left."
So we thanked him and drove one block, took a left, then drove
two blocks and then left.
It was another black hole.
Apparently, everyone in Reynosa has a healthy sense of
humor.
I just wasn't in the mood for any goddamn international jokes.
We tried again, and got the same runaround.
"Right, ...one block, ...left ...one
block, ...right three blocks."
Dead fucking end.
I started hearing that weird theramin music.
As the panic started to set in, we caught a glimpse of the border
lights in the distance.
All we had to do now was line up the dirt streets of Reynosa
with the lights.
Then - there it was - Texas!
We had to wait a little bit, but we eventually got to the border
crossing.
The Border cop stuck his head in the car and asked if we were
all Americans,
and did we have any cataloupe or plants or whatever in the car.
I asked if we could talk about this after we drove another
10 feet onto Texas soil.
The cop said, "I don't need your shit,
boy," so I became very polite.
They waved us thru and we were back under the protection of the United States' Constitution.
Looking back, it was all an obvious scam.
The federales grab people who came to town in nice cars - throw
you in jail for no reason,
then they allow a "friendly face" to get involved and negotiate
a way out of their prison.
What else would explain a jail cell with a glassless window for
access to the outside?
Bottom line?
All four of us got screwed that night.
Brad and Bobby by the knockout, teenage senoritas,
and Carl and me by four federales with the giant Smith
and Wessons.
I'm not sure what the moral of the story is,
but "Always do the right thing" ain't it.
For more, read about Reynosa
in the worldsexguide.org
Dumbass me, I thought we were going for beer...
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