Chasing Seagulls

{April 17, 2009}   Sticky Situation

I got another Cancun story for you. It also involves being drunk, as do most of my Cancun stories. I was drunk almost every day for 2 years. Not a good way to live your life, but at the time, it was the only thing I had to keep me going.

I was having a problem finding a place to sleep one night, and I was ready to pass out. I was sitting near the beach and a couple of guys started talking to me. One spoke English and the other one didn’t, so I was just talking to the one who did. I told him my problem and he said I could stay with him. I didn’t know either one of them, but it wasn’t the first time I had went home with someone I didn’t know, so that wasn’t a big deal. I always gave them the same speech. “I just need a place to sleep. If you think I’m gonna fuck you, then just leave me here.” They always gave the same response. “No, no. Don’t worry. No problema.” And they always did the same thing when we got there. They had to try just once to prove something about their manhood, maybe, but they usually backed off with no problem.

So I got in a cab and went downtown with them. When we stopped, the guy who spoke English got out and I started to follow him. He stopped me and said I was going with his friend. I didn’t know they lived separately and I told the guy that I made the deal with him. He said his friend was cool and not to worry. I was a little wary, but I still needed a place to sleep, so I went. When we got to the guy’s place, it was almost morning. All he had was a cuarto, which is just one room. I lay down on the bed and got ready to pass out. After just a minute or two, I felt him trying to touch me. I smacked him away. He tried again, and I smacked at him again and talked a little shit. He lay down next to my feet and we must have slept a little. I woke up a little while later to feel him touching me again, so I got up and moved to the little mattress he had on the floor. After a few minutes, I felt him touching me again. I sat up and put my fist in his face and told him if he touched me again, I was gonna knock his ass out. Of course, he didn’t understand what I was saying, but he got the idea. So I lay back down and about 2 minutes later, I felt his hands on me again. I sat up to hit him, and saw he had a kitchen knife. He held it up to my throat and said something in Spanish, curling his lip and trying to look mean.

I knew I was in a bad spot. But my mouth took over. I said, “Go ahead, motherfucker, I don’t give a fuck. But you better give me a cigarette first.” He understood “cigarette” and actually got up to give me one. I stood up and lit the cigarette and started talking shit, sliding on my sandals as I talked. He was still standing there with the knife. I knew there was only one thing that was going to keep me in that room. If he had locked the door, I was done. Just in case, I looked around and saw a pair of scissors laying on the bed. Okay, that would be Plan B.

I got my chance a few seconds later. He turned his back for a moment and I was headed to the door. I got lucky and the door opened. I heard him say, “Hey!”, but I was already halfway across the courtyard. There was a lady outside hanging her clothes, so I knew he wouldn’t take after me. I went through the front gate, made a right, and started walking. I had no idea where I was. I was just trying to find a main street so I could catch a cab. I didn’t have any money, but that was never really a problem for me. Taxi drivers in Mexico are always willing to give a pretty girl a free ride.

After about 10 minutes, a taxi pulled up and asked me where I was going. I told him to take me to Avenida Tulum. From there I could hop on a bus to the Hotel Zone. I told him I didn’t have any money, and he said no problem. When I got in the car, I told him what had just happened to me, and he suggested I go to the police. I didn’t want to do that, I just wanted to get where I was going, which was back to the Hotel Zone where it was easier to survive. During the ride, the driver actually had the nerve to put his hand on my leg. I looked at him and said, “Are you serious?” I had just nearly gotten myself hurt by not fucking some dude and he wanted to play games. When I got to Tulum, I hopped on a bus, and headed back “home.”

That was the only time I ever had any real problems going home with a stranger. For the most part, the guys behaved themselves once I made it clear they weren’t gonna get any. Not saying I was pure. I fucked a lot. But it wasn’t a given, and I made sure they understood that.

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