Crossing the border into Mexico is simple. Just walk thru the turnstile, and you're there.
Getting to Tijuana (T.J.) from the border, requires a taxi.
This is fun.
My first time, as with most things, was the most memorable.
December 1989.
There were five of us. Three of us shared an apartment in San Diego (I had just moved in, from Michigan) .The other two were down from L.A.
We walked thru the turnstile. "Yay, we're in Mexico", then, after wading thru the children selling Chicklets, we met our cabbies.
All of them holding their Cabbie I.D.'s up as they bid for our fares.
"How many of you?"
"Five of us."
"$4.00 each"
another one bids...
"$3.00 each"
We hesitate, then another driver bids "$2.00 each" and ushers us towards his taxi.
"Sweet, Tijuana for two bucks!"
We didn't even care that when we got to the taxi, it already had four people waiting in it, ha! That made ten people in the cab including the driver.
But then came the ride.
Forget that every one was on someone else's lap, and they were probably on someone else's lap as well. But, instead, think that this cab driver wants to get to T.J. and back as quickly as possible so he can fill his taxi (and wallet) with another nine or ten of Americas finest young partiers.
Just use your imagination on this next part.
Picture us, zig-zagging thru traffic at high speeds. Imagine our simultaneous screams. The kind of screams you hear from a roller coaster as it creeps over the summit and starts it's downward plummet towards a curve in the track.
"Whoooooooooooooaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaashit!"
What a wild ride. Mr Toad had nothing on us!
We were dumped on some street corner in front of what I suspect was probably the drivers cousins cantina where we would meet his sister (a virgin). That is only my speculation, hehe, and we never met his sister. I don't think, anyway.
So...
Getting to Tijuana (T.J.) from the border, requires a taxi.
This is fun.
My first time, as with most things, was the most memorable.
December 1989.
There were five of us. Three of us shared an apartment in San Diego (I had just moved in, from Michigan) .The other two were down from L.A.
We walked thru the turnstile. "Yay, we're in Mexico", then, after wading thru the children selling Chicklets, we met our cabbies.
All of them holding their Cabbie I.D.'s up as they bid for our fares.
"How many of you?"
"Five of us."
"$4.00 each"
another one bids...
"$3.00 each"
We hesitate, then another driver bids "$2.00 each" and ushers us towards his taxi.
"Sweet, Tijuana for two bucks!"
We didn't even care that when we got to the taxi, it already had four people waiting in it, ha! That made ten people in the cab including the driver.
But then came the ride.
Forget that every one was on someone else's lap, and they were probably on someone else's lap as well. But, instead, think that this cab driver wants to get to T.J. and back as quickly as possible so he can fill his taxi (and wallet) with another nine or ten of Americas finest young partiers.
Just use your imagination on this next part.
Picture us, zig-zagging thru traffic at high speeds. Imagine our simultaneous screams. The kind of screams you hear from a roller coaster as it creeps over the summit and starts it's downward plummet towards a curve in the track.
"Whoooooooooooooaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaashit!"
What a wild ride. Mr Toad had nothing on us!
We were dumped on some street corner in front of what I suspect was probably the drivers cousins cantina where we would meet his sister (a virgin). That is only my speculation, hehe, and we never met his sister. I don't think, anyway.
So...
If you ever hear some crazy story about a Tijuana Taxi?
Just believe it!
And, you know what else?
And, you know what else?
We never even told him where we wanted to go, but I'm pretty sure we got there.
Getting home after a night of cheap tequila shots and beer?
Getting home after a night of cheap tequila shots and beer?
hmmm...
That was another adventure!
That was another adventure!
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