Greetings from the happiest place on Earth, Tijuana!

Last night I finally got to enjoy my very first Mex-perience, and boy was it something else. Unless you've actually been to Tijuana it's quite difficult to really put into words the madness of the city. After about five minutes it becomes apparent that every single resident of the town is a cab driver/drug dealer/pimp. How do you know? Well, your conversations typically go like this:

Amigo: Cab, sir, need cab? We take you anywhere in city for five dollars!
Gringo: No thanks, we're walking, we don't need one.
Amigo: Come on sir, we take you right to downtown, five dollars.
Gringo: Nope, sorry (continue walking)
Amigo: (Now in hot pursuit) Blow? Need blow?
Gringo: What!?
Amigo: I got coke, blow, what you need? Good price!
Gringo: No thanks man, I don't need any of that either.
Amigo: Girls? We got NICE girls, they give you what you want, twenty-five dollar!

At this point in the conversation I would typically find myself laughing hysterically while Ryan is shouting "NO" repeatedly back to the defeated cabbie. Unfortunately, the victories are short lived being that on the next street corner you will undoubtedly prepare yourself for another round.

Even the out of towners are in on the act. We encountered a Canadian man on a bike that went out of his way to slow roll by us and say, "Hey guys, need any Oxycontin?" As we turned him away I realized that I've now traveled thousands of miles into another country only to have a white guy try to sell me some OC's... small world, eh?

I'd have to say that the most amusing part of the night was when one of the Amigos shouted to me from down the street. Being a complete retard I decided to inquire as to what he needed. He began to speak to me in Spanish, I began to explain that I didn't speak Spanish. After an extended bi-lingual battle with this gentleman I finally found myself shouting, "I DON'T SPEAK SPANISH," as he blathered on and kept pointing to his mother. She's best described as the stereotypical Mexican old lady. Probably in her late 70's this kindly looking old lady was slouched over a walker and had the whole "refugee" look going.

After a few more minutes of this pointless and unintelligible battle, Ryan finally decodes some of the Spanish and pulls me away. We walk down the street, duck into the next shop and he explains, "Dude, that guy was trying to sell you a night with his mother."

Needless to say, I went back, pulled out the wallet and gave the ol' gal a night to remember.

(I started to end the post there for comedic effect, however, my fears that someone may actually take that seriously (especially after the "Larry is dead" fiasco) caused me to come back and include this disclaimer... I did not sleep with the old Mexican lady. As Foghorn Leghorn would say, "Them's jokes son.")