What the heck’s wrong with some of these places around the Mexican border?
My friend Kirby and I took a semester off of school to drive across the country. Once we crossed the Mexican border, we entered a bizarro world full of toothless idiots in 1970s pimp suits combing the streets looking for morons like us.
One of these guys overheard Kirby and I talking about wanting to use the bathroom, and of course he knew where one was. It just happened to be in a strip bar. After we got out of the bathroom, we were goaded by the rest of the patrons into buying a round of drinks for everyone in the establishment.
Then, this one fellow tells me to drink his free shot of vodka that came with our beer, like he’s doing me a favor, giving me back part of the liquor I bought.
What’s wrong with these people? I’m not saying everyone in Mexico is like that, but those are the only people, out of thousands, that I saw.
The place I saw was a slum where apparently everyone had access to loose women and drugs. I actually got to hear the words “Sucky sucky, $5, mister.”
Kirby and I were offered 15 different drugs on 94 different occasions. We made it a game to count. Of course we didn’t try any of these offerings, because we would have surely been smoking some kind of donkey turd.
I truly believe the local economy at the border rests solely on beer sales and drug revenue.
There are a few things that you have to fear at the border. You need to be worried about getting robbed (but that could happen anywhere), and you should watch out for Giardia (i.e. chronic diarrhea), because the water is not so clean. I would stick to Coke.
Also, be wary of the Mexican Army. I saw some troops driving around small villages piled in green jeeps. Kirby and I just happened to be accosted by one of these drunken patrols at 9 p.m. one night. It was pitch black outside, and we were in a small village named Boquillas.
We were on our way back to the border when, out of nowhere, an army jeep with eight gun-toting, beer-swigging soldiers flew past us screaming “gringo” and something to the effect of “my goat is horny.”
In Mexico, with a per capita income of $8,500 and more than a quarter of their population below the poverty line, I can understand how some of the people feel the need to supplement their revenue, but please don’t use your sisters, wives, and daughters as a means for that.
So, to sum it all up, when visiting the Mexican border, watch out for robbers, don’t drink the water, don’t tick off the army and, most importantly, don’t buy any donkey turds.

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