It’s been a couple years now since the violence between Mexican drug gangs and local policia spilled into the streets and into the public eye of America. Whether you want to call it propaganda pandering or a random act of kindness, looking at relations between the two countries I can’t help but be reminded of how my mother and grandmother interact at every family dinner. They both passive-aggressively want to be seen helping each other out while appearing as fully responsible, independent adults, only one is clearly poorer than the other. A few thoughtfully spilled cocktails and couple billion US dollars later, the effects of America’s hand in the Mexican churro pot becomes evident when I inform my friend of my plans.
“Do you watch the news? They’ll kill you, man!” My pussy of a friend exclaims.
“Why would they want to kill off their customers? That’s like McDonald’s or cigarette-ooooh.”
Another fiendish friend and I begin our usual monthly trip south to restock our usual stash of narcotics. Nothing out of the ordinary here, folks.
Never drive into Mexico if you’re just there for the drugs and tacos. If you’re like me, you end up parking a quarter mile away in the duty free shopping center to avoid paying the $10 for parking. That’s 100 peso! Or 20 tacos.
The revolving door policy that is the US – Mexico border.
I couldn’t be any whiter, blonder, or poorer, and for some reason people assume the first two negate the last, so I try to limit my time in countries where I stand out like a pasty beacon of deviance. Luckily, the very first shop you will run across is, you guessed it, a pharmacy. They have plenty of goodies that you couldn’t normally acquire conventionally in the states, but to strike gold you’ve got to dig a bit deeper. Refer to my guide last week, “How to Get Down in a New Town”, which absolutely applies internationally. Don’t be afraid to ask around and it won’t be long before you find a criminal lurking in the shadows who will sell you whatever you need. Penicillin? Sure. Sombrero? Why not. First born daughter? One less mouth to feed. SIDE-QUEST – Find the correct shop, and they will even be kind enough to let you use their back room to adhere plastic baggies to your genitals.
They certainly know their target audience.
Time –Line; whatever.
It would appear Thursday late afternoons are among the best times to cross. The worst? Sunday evening. On a more recent drug run, I was actually stopped by a Mexico cop brandishing a kitchen knife. I was appropriately shaken down and released when they failed to find the sack taped to my balls, despite several tender strokes to the area.
The wait in line can be vicious, but even crossing the border doesn’t hold a candle to LA gridlock.
Congratulations, you’ve unlocked the drug smuggling achievement!
Word of the wise: if you’re going to be purchasing illegal substances, keep in mind that they are, in fact, still illegal in countries like Mexico. They aren’t even (much) cheaper, only easier to access. In the end, our neighbors to the south provide us with a great many quality products. Ponchos. Siestas. Tapitio. My favorite will always be medicine. Tacos, a close second.
Learn the serious facts about the Mexican drug war here.