by Jeff
"I've got too many orders as is to get your stuff, but if you want you can roll with."

I looked at him, like, well like he just asked me to smuggle drugs across the border.

"I could use the company and it's not as hard as you'd think. Besides, you can buy it down there for cost. I would cost four times that to get it from me."

It took all of a couple minutes for him to go from pretending he had no idea what I was talking about to saying it was "no problem."

"What do you say?"

I say yes.

My shoulder was only getting worse and he had laid out a cycle that sounded pretty tame--"...Something you'd give your girlfriend."

This was the second time I had heard this phrase in two days and I realized I'd stumbled into a subculture I knew nothing of, complete with vernacular and abbreviations that I didn't understand. Similar injuries had been fixed the same way, he told me, and though he wasn't a doctor--rather the guy working behind the counter at Muscle Max-- he sounded damn knowledgeable.

So fuck it. There wasn't much I was against trying at this point. He told me to meet him at his house the next day and we'd drive to the border and hoof it across.

The next day I show up in cargo shorts, sneakers, and a t shirt and I can't get out three words before he points back toward my car.

"Dude, you gotta go home and change."

I look at this guy like he's nuts. I mean, I wore the shorts because they were the best thing I could think of for concealing a bulging crotch and what the hell is wrong with a t shirt?

"No dude, you need to show as much skin as possible to avoid being searched. Like you've got nothing to hide. So flip-slops, shorts, t shirt, you know."

I didn't know. But I did now, I guess.

"But, the baggiest shirt you got. It's better we're together. I mean, it would be better if there was a girl, but a white guy walks across by himself and they know he's packing. Better with two of us-- we say we were getting some beers or whatever. But white guys our age, they know it's either this shit or pills."

"Bigger the shirt, less big you look."

So I went and changed, but I could tell he still didn't totally approve. I had bulked up by twenty pounds the past year and none of my t shirts were all that large. He accepts it though and we head down.

On the way he's explaining the nuances of illicit Tijuana purchases.

"Like I said, better to be with someone. If you have a girl that you can go down with that's the best. There are cops down here who will watch what you're doing. Don't just go down for this shit. Have a taco, a couple beers, you know. Besides, you don't want border patrol to notice you walking in and out in fifteen minutes."

So I'm taking notes in my head. Important stuff, I realize. I really, really don't want to go to fucking jail. I mean, Christ, I don't really want to risk it, no matter how "simple" it is. But this shoulder thing is driving me insane. So I listen, and I take note.

"The way this place is laid out I always like to walk around the building to make sure no cops are following. Maybe have a couple tacos across the street to scope it out."

"I know the guy at this place pretty well. He'll let you use the bathroom, give you tape and baggies."

I'm surprised by this, but only for a second as I remember that Tijuana is basically funded by a gray market economy.

"The bottles all come in boxes. Best to throw them away. Some guys I buy for want them for whatever reason so I flat pack them separate for the walk, but yours, just throw them away."

This is all well and good, but I've got to know, so I ask him, "you ever been caught? Searched?"

His face falls a little. He's not wise and proud anymore.

"A few times in Mexico. Those you can usually bribe your way out of. At the border I've had to empty my pockets a couple times. They didn't see anything so they let me go. Dude I know got popped though. Did some time."

Great.

"It'll be fine though. I'll walk you through it. Piece of cake."

Comment and Discuss

Posted by Jeff at 2:58 PM

Print Friendly · Digg it · del.icio.us · StumbleUpon · Netscape

Trackback Pings

TrackBack URL for this entry:
http://www.festeringass.com/mt/mt-tb.fcgi/2491