Midnight Express (Part 2)

There I was, completely immersed in the moment, enjoying my lunch in full appreciation of the gentle breeze that seemed to exist only within the confines of the palm's shadow. My gaze casually wondered about the surrounding buildings as I considered which ones to photograph. I was totally oblivious to any people that were about.

All of a sudden, armed men from all around ...maybe seven or eight ...closed in on me, grabbing me by both arms, confiscating my lunch, my cameras, and my tripod. They were frantically chattering in Spanish and hostiley dragged me off into this building that seemed to be some sort of headquarters or police station.

"What...what's going on here...who are you...what did I do...where are you taking me...what are you doing with my stuff?" All my queries went unanswered as they indicated they didn't understand English.

They "escorted" me up the steps, into this dark foreboding building, and into a dimly lit room where I was instructed to sit in this wooden chair. They laid all my stuff out on the large table which was the only other piece of furniture there in this room that was lit only with the light coming through the three small narrow windows up near the ceiling along one wall.

They all left save one very stern, bespectacled guard who had a big black moustache that seem too big for his face. I tried to communicate with him but he was not being receptive. He did, however, seem to speak some English. "Empty your pockets, put it all there!"

Oh shit! I'd totally forgotten about the pocketful of grass camouflaged as cigarettes. I'd decided it was safer keeping it with me as opposed to leaving it behind in a hotel room ...since it wasn't exactly a 4-star hotel. I remember thinking that that decision would be my undoing. I'd seen the movie "Midnight Express". I saw what could happen to you in a foreign land if you were caught in possession of contraband. Oh my God, I was going to die in a Mexican prison.

Surprisingly, I kept my cool. The guard inspected my cameras, opening them up and removing the film. Funny thing, though. He confiscated the film that was in the cameras, but not the other rolls of exposed film there in the camera bag. After seeing that each container held only a film cassette, he placed it back in the bag. He inspected the quiver and seemed disappointed to find that it only contained a tripod.

As I stared at the Winston package lying there on the table, I was sure [he] could hear my heart pounding in my chest. He moved the pack around the table several times as he rifled through all my other belongings ...but he never picked it up or looked inside. This guy couldn't possibly have cared less about that pack of "cigarettes". Not very thorough police work, if you ask me. But that was a thought I had way after the fact. At that moment, I was thinking, starting to hope, that I might not get busted for having the grass.

After he'd finished his inspection, it was obvious that I was not a threat to him or his organization ...whatever it was. You see, this was not just a police station, but some clandestine organization that I just happened upon, and [I surmised] they thought I, with all this photographic equipment, was spying. Yeah, right! Me, a spy.

When it became apparent that I was simply a tourist on vacation taking pictures, his attitude change considerably, as he revealed [through his conversation] that his English was as good as my own. I thanked him, gathered up my stuff, and left the facility. As I placed the cigarette pack back in my jacket's breast pocket, I offered a silent prayer of gratitude to whomever was responsible for my having just dodged that bullet.

I spent three days there in Mexico City, but that episode had soured the experience and I couldn't wait to leave. However, after a brief stop in Guadalajara, I ended up in Puerto Vallarta where I spent a glorious week basking in the sun.

Quote of the Week: The body is the soul's prison unless the five senses are fully developed and open.