Midnight Express (Part 1)
I was telling some friends this story the other night, and thought my mis-adventure in Mexico would make an interesting post.
This was quite awhile ago, way before 9/11, back when I used to smoke grass, back before drug-sniffing dogs, back when one would actually consider transporting your stash on your person while traveling by air.
Anyway, I decided to take a trip to Mexico. I'd never been out of the country before. I hadn't even been out of San Francisco since I'd arrived five years before. Like I said, I did smoke grass ...a lot. I'd gotten into the habit of smoking it regularly as a substitution for the cigarettes I'd just quit. (This was my first attempt which only lasted 2 years. I didn't successfully stop smoking cigarettes until ten years later.)
This was quite awhile ago, way before 9/11, back when I used to smoke grass, back before drug-sniffing dogs, back when one would actually consider transporting your stash on your person while traveling by air.
Anyway, I decided to take a trip to Mexico. I'd never been out of the country before. I hadn't even been out of San Francisco since I'd arrived five years before. Like I said, I did smoke grass ...a lot. I'd gotten into the habit of smoking it regularly as a substitution for the cigarettes I'd just quit. (This was my first attempt which only lasted 2 years. I didn't successfully stop smoking cigarettes until ten years later.)
I was going out of the country and I wouldn't have access to any smoking material. I realized I'd have to take some with me. I came up with the idea to take a pack of [filtered] ciggies, empty out the tobacco, fill the cylinder with grass, close the end, and re-insert the "joints" back into the pack filter side up so that it resembled a regular pack of cigarettes. I even carried them in my jacket pocket in plain view. Just as I suspected, no one even gave the pack of "cigarettes" a second thought. Granted, something like that would never work today, but then ....
Okay, so I arrive in Mexico City. Boy, was it a dirty place. I had considered New York dirty ...after I'd moved here to an impecably clean, well-manicured San Francisco. But Mexico City was really disgusting. Puerto Vallarta, the last leg of my trip, was really nice, though. It was all sandy beaches and not at all "industrialized", but that has nothing to do with this story.
First day in Mexico City. I go into the bathroom, "lock" the door, turn on the exhaust fan, and fire up a joint. I was feeling somewhat smug and quite accomplished at how I'd pulled this all off. But I had to be careful. This was a far cry from walking down San Francisco's streets with a joint in your hand. This was a whole new environment and I had to be cool.
At the time, I'd just gotten into photography and carried my camera(s) and tripod around with me everywhere. I even fashioned a quiver to carry the tripod over my shoulder. So with this nice buzz going, I ventured out into the Mexican day. My first reaction was culture shock. I was truly surprised that nobody gave a damn that I was an American. Outside of the hotel, nobody made any attempt to converse in English ...or cared that I didn't understand Spanish. I don't know what I expected. Maybe that everyone would accommodate me since I was from the US. Wrong!
So, I wandered aimlessly about the city, photographing everything, and understanding nothing. Despite having lived in close proximity to a Puerto Rican community (in New York), the few Spanish words I'd managed to pick up were grossly inadequate.
As it drew toward midday, I decided to stop and have the milk and pastry I'd just picked up at a nearby bakery. It wasn't a park, just a green area with trees, but it was a welcomed shelter from the blazing hot sun. I took my cameras from around my neck and laid them down on the grass, parked my tripod quiver against the tree, and settled in for what I thought would be a pleasant siesta. Wrong!
This little patch of green was in front of an official building. Not official-looking by US standards, but different from the surrounding architecture. Actually, I hadn't even noticed it. But I would.
(To be cont'd.)
Quote of the Week: "Sooner or later, everyone stops smoking."
Okay, so I arrive in Mexico City. Boy, was it a dirty place. I had considered New York dirty ...after I'd moved here to an impecably clean, well-manicured San Francisco. But Mexico City was really disgusting. Puerto Vallarta, the last leg of my trip, was really nice, though. It was all sandy beaches and not at all "industrialized", but that has nothing to do with this story.
First day in Mexico City. I go into the bathroom, "lock" the door, turn on the exhaust fan, and fire up a joint. I was feeling somewhat smug and quite accomplished at how I'd pulled this all off. But I had to be careful. This was a far cry from walking down San Francisco's streets with a joint in your hand. This was a whole new environment and I had to be cool.
At the time, I'd just gotten into photography and carried my camera(s) and tripod around with me everywhere. I even fashioned a quiver to carry the tripod over my shoulder. So with this nice buzz going, I ventured out into the Mexican day. My first reaction was culture shock. I was truly surprised that nobody gave a damn that I was an American. Outside of the hotel, nobody made any attempt to converse in English ...or cared that I didn't understand Spanish. I don't know what I expected. Maybe that everyone would accommodate me since I was from the US. Wrong!
So, I wandered aimlessly about the city, photographing everything, and understanding nothing. Despite having lived in close proximity to a Puerto Rican community (in New York), the few Spanish words I'd managed to pick up were grossly inadequate.
As it drew toward midday, I decided to stop and have the milk and pastry I'd just picked up at a nearby bakery. It wasn't a park, just a green area with trees, but it was a welcomed shelter from the blazing hot sun. I took my cameras from around my neck and laid them down on the grass, parked my tripod quiver against the tree, and settled in for what I thought would be a pleasant siesta. Wrong!
This little patch of green was in front of an official building. Not official-looking by US standards, but different from the surrounding architecture. Actually, I hadn't even noticed it. But I would.
(To be cont'd.)
Quote of the Week: "Sooner or later, everyone stops smoking."
posted by gieau_sf (9:35:00 AM)
-- All non-relevant comments will be (have been) deleted!
6 Comment(s):
I have a hunch where this might be going, and am looking forward to reading the next chapter...
Don't you just love cliff hangers? :)
Ahh, you're not going to make us wait until next week, or are you?
Your part about being astounded that nobody cared to accomodate a U.S. American brought back memories. Having travelled extensively throughout Europe I came across many Americans that were surprised that 'these foreigners' didn't take dollars or speak English.
That's it? You're stopping right there for another week?? oh, so not fair!!!
You have our attention...
The whole story was too long for one post, and it was my original intention to present part 2 next week. But you're right, that's not fair. As much as I dislike waiting for a conclusion of a story, why would I do it to you.
So, by special request :-), I'm making a mid-week posting for part 2. (probably Wednesday).
Now, if only someone else we know (JKR) would be as considerate :-)
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