It had been almost a year since Original Crazy B**** (O.C.B.) moved out and I became a full-time single dad of a five-year-old girl. My daughter wasn’t known as Drama Queen back then; she was just a sweet redheaded five-year-old. I hadn’t dated at all since O.C.B. moved out—It was pretty much my choice. I just hadn’t felt like looking and quite honestly, I had been out of the dating world so long that I really had no game.
The Kings Fan called me at work one Monday morning and asked if I could get my mom or brother to watch Drama Queen over the weekend. “I think so,” I replied. “Why? What’s up?” “I’m taking you out,” he told me. “We’re going to go out and have fun and we are going to get you laid. Tell your mom you’ll be back Saturday afternoon”
At 5:30 on Friday Kings Fan pulled into my driveway and I hopped into his black Jeep Wrangler and we headed south on the 405 freeway to Tijuana. It had been a while since I had been to TJ and I thought a crazy night south of the border sounded like fun.
Kinger announced that we were going to park on the U.S. side and walk over. It’s OK to drive your car into Mexico if you’re heading south into Rosarito or Ensanada, but if you ever want to see your car in one piece, do not park in Tijuana.
We walked over the border and immediately were bombarded with kids selling Chiclets and women peddling crappy fake gold. We decided to hit Avenida Revolucion because that’s where most of the safe action was. We agreed there would be no donkey shows but he kept insisting that I was going to get laid that night. I had no problem with that but I was a little skeptical.
I asked where we were staying and he said that he had no clue but that we would find someplace. I said cool and we jumped in a taxi and headed into TJ. We got out of the cab and scanned our options. We were both pretty hungry so we grabbed a couple of tacos at a cart about half a block up.
The girl working the cart was pretty cute and Kings Fan asked her in Spanish where a good bar was. I guess I should point out that Kinger was born in Mexico but was raised in L.A. He has family in Mexico and in fact his wife, Hot Latin Mama and son, G.I. Joe were both born and raised in central Mexico. My point being that he speaks and reads Spanish very fluently. This will be important information to have in a couple of paragraphs.
We headed into the bar and grabbed some Coronas. The place was OK. A bit touristy for my tastes, but not too bad. There were some cute girls in there but it was mainly a sausage-fest. After we had our next round I told him that I wanted to get out of there. “We could drink $5 Coronas in Long Beach,” I said. “Let’s find someplace a little off the beaten path where we can drink cheaper and we can feel like we’re in Mexico.”
He agreed and we headed out the door and around the corner down a side street. About a block down we saw a window painted with a huge bottle of Tecate. The size was equivalent to a 40 oz. in America and the sign announced “25 pesos” (about $2.50 U.S.D.). We decided to go in and headed straight back to the bar to grab our Tecate. We found an empty table and start sipping the cerveza fria.
About 60 seconds later, at almost exactly the same time, we both set our beers down on the table and looked at each other. “Dude,” I quietly said. “I think this is a gay bar.” “What makes you think that?” He asked sarcastically. “Uh, I think it’s the chick with the beard and chest hair wearing a tube top,” I said. “What about you?” He pointed out that there were two guys kissing behind me but he implored me not to turn around and look. As the only gringo in the place I had no problem heeding his advice.
We decided that the best game plan was to quickly chug our beers and get the hell out. So we did just that. Neither of us looked at the sign on the way in, but I made a mental not to check out the name of the bar on the way out. It said “Los Chicos Golpean” which translated means “The Boys Club”.
We headed back out to Ave. Revolucion and I was hungry again so we found the same taco cart and I grabbed a couple al pastor (my favorite). Kinger said something to the hottie in Spanish and he said that she knew just the place for us to go. He said that he was sure that I could get laid in this place. After our last experience I wanted to make sure that he was talking about a woman, so I looked at the taco chick and asked, “Chicas or chicos?” She looked at King and said something in Spanish. He replied and she laughed and said, “chicas!” Esta bien!
W went into the bar and I was impressed. It was loaded with women wearing tight, low cut clothing, most of whom were pretty damn hot. We sat at the bar and I looked around as he ordered a couple beers from the bartender. As the beers were placed in front of us, King looked at me and said, “It’s my treat. Whoever you want.”
Suddenly it hit me. The reason there were so many hot chicks was because we were in a hooker bar. It was attached to a “motel” and the women were in there picking up guys and then servicing them next door. I politely told him that I appreciated his gesture but that there were not enough condoms in the whole country for me to get it on with a Mexican prostitute.
He said he understood and that we would just sit, drink and blow off some steam. Not two minutes later an attractive redhead with a decent set of fake cans came up behind me, rubbed my head and said “Hi, papi.” I politely told her that I wasn’t her daddy and that I had no money. Right on cue, she smiled at me and headed down the bar, trolling for her next lay.
Around 2 AM we decided to call it a night and found a non-whorehouse motel across the street. The rooms were $10 each and we grabbed a pair and agreed that we should sleep on top of the blankets. The next morning we woke up and found our taco hottie back at work. We grabbed a few more and Kinger related the story of the night before. She looked at me and told me that I was probably very smart.
After the tacos we hopped another cab, crossed the border again and headed home. I’ve never been back to Tijuana since that night but I’ve hit Ensanada and Rosarito several times (once with Kings Fan) and every time I drive through TJ I get a smile on my face and tell my passenger that I know a good bar where we can stop at for a cheap beer—just off Avenida Revolucion.
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