When I was around 19 years old, I went to Nogales with my boyfriend, his friend, his sister and her husband. It was a day for drinking. When you’re 5 years older than your girlfriend and she’s underage, you can’t frequent many bars…so you drive 45 minutes or so to allow you to get piss-ass drunk in an other country. It makes PERFECT sense. Even better if your girlfriend has zero tolerance for alcohol.
We drove down in small Toyota truck, crossed the boarder and thought we should fortify ourselves with some food before the antics began. In 1989 there was a little diner right at the boarder that not only served local fare, but also included free (yes, FREE) shots of tequila. Tequila has a dark and devilish side, I tell you true. We bought more food so we could get more shots…
After we left that establishment, we sort of just drifted from bar to bar. I really was not doing well by that time, so I thought it would be ‘wise’ to sip Piña coladas and smoke a ton of cheap Mexican Marlboro cigarettes. I puked in several bathrooms – it wasn’t pretty. Eventually, it transpired that we broke up into different groups agreeing to meet on the steps in front of a bank in a couple of hours.
Two hours later my boyfriend and I
stumbled walked over to the rendezvous site only to be greeted to the sight of his sister sitting on the steps of the bank vomiting into her hands (as if she could actually catch and contain all that food and drink) while little kids were trying to sell her Chiclets. Not one kid was daunted by vomit. Not one. I would have been screaming and running.
About two minutes later my boyfriend’s friend comes RUNNING towards us yelling – RUN! RUN! – turns out the police were chasing him because he’d got a bit nekkid at whatever bar he’d frequented.
He must have eluded the police because we failed to see anyone in pursuit. I was still feeling horrible and thought something cool and icy would settle my stomach – and I was the only one that was sober enough to drive by that point so I was driving us home. I stopped at a little food cart and bought an icy. Happily munching away on the ice, we staggered back to the truck – vomiters rode in the truck bed and boyfriend sat with me. As I start to drive home, it hits me like a TON OF BRICKS that I just ATE ICE WHICH IS MADE OF WATER – WATER FROM MEXICO…FROM A STREET VENDOR NOT FROM A RESTAURANT WITH FILTERED WATER… Holy Sh*t… let me tell you a little secret… it takes 45 minutes to get from Nogales to Tucson…which is the exact time it takes for Montezuma’s Revenge to set in.
This memory was inspired by a far better story from Sips of Jen and Tonic – which you simply must read after this.