Just A Note Why I Don't Vacation In Mexico

A trip that will not leave my mind. It started late at night discussing what we were going to do over the upcoming Veterans Day weekend. One suggestion was go down to the beach, but no where there to stay. Another suggestion was a lake house of one guy's parents, but a long drive away. Then the suggestion we went with, head to the border and drink and go to a whorehouse.

From school down to the border was a six hour drive. We left later that morning and were there by four in the afternoon. We decided to leave the car in a garage, and walk across. We found a place to eat, early for Mexican time. We left looking for a whorehouse with a floor show. We found one and sat along the dance floor and the girls squatted in front of us, bare ass pussy vertical smiles all the way around. We quickly ran out of dollar bills and went to find a bank.

I woke up in a dingy whore's room nursing the worst headache I'd ever had. The whore asleep beside me. I found a bathroom to piss and wash my face, my friends nowhere around. I got dressed and headed downstairs. I didn't recognize where I was, the sun was hot. A cop asked me for my ID, my wallet wasn't in my pants. He didn't let me go back up to the room, took me to jail and a fine of three hundred dollars in pesos.

After the cops did their background check they let me know they found a record that I had gotten married the night before. That whore I woke up with. I was escorted to the whorehouse where I had a bill of a couple of hundred dollars worth of pesos. No signs of my friends. The whore wanted her money for spending all night with me. My wallet? No money, I went back to jail.

The way it worked in Mexico was your guilty as charged unless you can prove your not. The whore found a lawyer, her brother, to defend me. He got the fine reduced to two hundred dollars, the other claims were not dismissed. He loaned me the money, reviewed the paperwork and let me know I was married, abandoning a spouse was a jail offense. I had to get my parents to wire down the money.

The divorce costs a pretty penny, more than a semester of tuition and books. I was released to walk back with a provisional Texas license. My friends had gone crazy trying to find me. The ride back to school was the worst hangover I could imagine. Back at school I was told I needed to see a doctor, and found out I had the clap.