Chasing Seagulls

{March 17, 2009}   Mexican Jail, Vol.2

Okay, so, continuation…

The second time I got arrested in Cancun, I had been up all night drinking…(seeing a pattern yet?). I was at a bar downtown on Avenida Tulum and came out just as the sun was coming up. I saw a girl I knew slightly named M. who told me she was with a guy who would buy us drinks and that he was a cool dude and everything, so I walked down the street with her to a little restaurant.

It was an older American guy named J.W. that was flamingly gay. He was quite entertaining, although a little weird. We each drank a beer and talked until the waiter came over with the check. J.W. explained to the waiter that he didn’t have any money on him at the moment, but would be getting it about 10 o’clock. I was a little confused by this, but too drunk to attach much emphasis to it. The waiter, however, wasn’t confused at all and called the policia.

The policia showed up in one of their trucks which is the equivalent of a “paddywagon.” Of course, I was still drunk and happy, so I commented on how I had never gotten to ride in the back of one of those.

The three of us were taken to a police station downtown. No one had been handcuffed. They led us inside and started our paperwork. While we were standing there, I started punching J.W. in the arm saying “I can’t believe you got me arrested. I didn’t do anything.” The policia were all standing around laughing at me.

They took M. and I back to the cells and put us in one with some other girls. I laid down on the floor and passed out. I woke up periodically to see girls come and go. One of them was M. She was no longer in the cell with me. When I finally woke up for good, I was alone and covered in blood.

Aunt Flo was making her monthly visit at the time and I had been locked up all day with no supplies. My jeans were fucked. You may feel this is a little too much information, but it was part of the experience.

Then came the adventure of peeing. There was no toilet, of course, but neither did I get the luxury of a hole in the floor like I had before. What I did have was a three-inch square concrete tube-like structure built into the wall that came up to crotch-level. I had to press my ass against the wall and try to aim, which is not easy for a girl. While I was trying to accomplish this, I looked over to see a guy across the way in another cell watching me. I gave him the finger until I finished.

Eventually, someone came to let me out. They gave me the bag I had on me when I came in, and I held it behind me to cover my ass. It didn’t do the job too well. J.W. was there waiting for me. Turns out he hadn’t even gotten locked up. He knew someone and was able to slip out of it. Meanwhile, M. had been taken to the Federales. She had coke on her when we were arrested, so she was beyond our help.

When I got out to J.W.’s car, there were two other guys with him. Great. The embarrassment continues. They had to spread newspaper on the seat before I could sit down. Then, of all fucking things, they take me to a bar. I told J.W. there was no way I could go in looking like I did. So he sent one of the guys to the store to buy me a pair of shorts and maxipads. Oh, Christ! Will it ever end?!

The bar had just opened, so getting to the bathroom unnoticed wasn’t much of a problem. I changed clothes and cleaned up, went out to the bar, and started drinking. I ended up having a really good time.

So there you have it. I didn’t get arrested again after that. I learned to talk my way out of it.

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