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Chapter 3. Shaun and Mike.
Disclaimer. Those aren’t their real names. I don’t remember their real names. I don’t really remember how I met them. They were friends of friends of my brother’s friends… Something like that.
Let’s just call them Shaun and Mike. They looked like a Shaun and a Mike. Two white dudes. Both certified pilots out of work. One lived in Hawaii, the other in San Francisco or somewhere in the area. Because of pilot bullshit, they weren’t allowed to smoke weed. So they were smoking K-2 incense crap.
Mike was a short guy typical surfer dude who looked mega stoned all the time and said funny shit, sort of like like Adam DeVine from Workaholics. Shaun was taller and a bit more serious, very more pilot looking than Mike, somewhat like Michael Fassbender.
This was early 2010. I didn’t live in Tijuana. I lived in LA. This was one of my first experiences in Tijuana with two strangers and me acting as a guide though I didn’t know the city at all. Crazy shit happened.
Shaun and Mike took me surfing for the first time in my life. We went somewhere south of Rosarito to a completely empty beach where we paid $5 to park, used their restrooms, and basically enjoy the beach.
We smoked tons of that K-2 bullshit.
It would have been way dumb to go. But nothing happened. I didn’t catch one single wave while Mike caught several and Shaun did his best (didn’t do that good either).
It was a great experience. I fucking loved it.
Fast forward a bit. I started surfing every day that year in Los Angeles.
Fast forward to now. I haven’t surfed in years and a lesbian stole my surfboard (and my skateboard, my wetsuit, and my favorite scarf).
After surfing, we returned to my brother’s house. He was living by himself in the same house he lives now, except it was a very run-down house back then. My brother was practically new to Tijuana as well. The place barely had any furniture and the carpet was old and dirty.
Again, not sure who these guys were or how they related to my brother, but they were staying there. Friends of friends of friends passing out on unknown floors.
I lived in a fantasy apartment complex in Los Angeles in a place called Mariners Village (south of Venice in Marina del Rey). The place had small streams and ponds, Koi fish and turtles right under my balcony, four pools, four tennis courts, two hot tubs, a gym, a Starbucks, library, common areas, and much more.
The complex was fantastic, but I shared a three-bedroom with two roommates (who were cool, but the apartment itself wasn’t huge). It was over 3k, so split into three we were paying just over 1k to live in that crazy complex. It was worth it. I’m pretty sure they are more expensive now.
So naturally, my brother didn’t mind switching apartments with me. That was one of those times. My brother and his girlfriend (now wife) went to stay at my apartment. I stayed with Shaun and Mike in Tijuana.
Back then, Tijuana was trying to implement the rule that all bars close at 2:00 a.m.
It was weird and it only lasted a couple of months. But for those couple of months, they were adamant at everything closing exactly at 2:00 a.m.
I’m sure there were many after parties and whatnot. But I was new in the city and I didn’t know anyone.
I don’t remember how the night started. Probably with something basic in Calle Sexta. Both Shaun and Mike wanted to hit on Mexican girls, but their attempts were not very good. I have a small memory of Shaun getting rejected in La Estrella that pops into mind. But that’s not what is important in this story.
All I remember was that I was excited to go to Zona Norte and guide them with my little knowledge of the place.
Back to Hong Kong. To the wonder emporium sex palace of depravity.
Nervous as fuck. Even nowadays that I’m used to the area. I get nervous as fuck when stepping in the timeless wormhole.
As soon as we walked in, Mike disappeared. Like an expert in brothels, he went around doing his thing. I stayed back with Shaun and hung out buying girls drinks having fun here and there.
After a couple of beers, Mike returned. He had already been with a girl and wanted to go get another. Shaun said it was his turn and for Mike to have a beer with me.
Shaun took the girl he was with up to the hotel.
Mike stayed for almost no time before he was up again wandering the brothel for another girl.
I was by myself.
Not only was I by myself… I suddenly had horrible diarrhea.
And I also felt responsible for the guys.
Fuckers don’t speak any Spanish, but I guess they were adults responsible for their shit.
I stayed waiting for them. Got another beer. An older woman kept looking at me.
She grabbed my ass when I walked in front of her.
“Vamos güerito, buy her a drink already,” said her friend.
Fuck it. Might as well.
Her super stupid fake name was Kristofera. She had been working there for a couple of years. She was much older than me and had an insanely fake body. Fake nose. Fake tits. Fake ass. As fake as it could be. The opposite of what I’m usually attracted, but she was completely naked wearing only fishnets.
She told me stories about the place while trying to convince me to go up to the hotel with her. I’m proud to say my will is still strong when it comes to this shit. I still refuse. Paying for sex is weird.
But I still asked how much.
HAH! No. I’ll buy you another drink instead.
I refuse again.
“$20, just because I like you,” she says. “Plus the cost of the hotel.”
My stomach was churning.
I was in pain.
Mike and Shaun were nowhere to be found.
I wanted to go up to the hotel. Not for the reasons she thought. But because I wanted a private bathroom for myself. It was that bad.
And yes, they have nice bathrooms in Hong Kong, but this was bad. And I’m stupid when it comes to taking a shit in public restrooms. I prefer the comfort of my own.
I asked Kristofera what way to the hotel. She guided me and left her before she put on her bathrobe. Told her to wait for me.
I paid $12 for 30 minutes in a sex hotel just to take a comfortable shit.
The hotel was under construction so it was a weird walk to the room and I could hear fucking in all the rooms.
There was porn on TV as soon as I walked in.
Ran to the bathroom. Did my things. Took a long warm shower. Cooled my head down.
And headed back out. To search for Mike and Shaun.
I didn’t find them.
I found Kristofera again.
She made fun of my situation. Called me strange several times.
We got along. She tried to help me look for Mike and Shaun.
So I bought her more drinks (and gave her a $20 tip).
2:00 a.m. hit.
Everyone was getting kicked out of the bars. I said bye and thanks to Kristofera.
And I ended up adding her on Facebook. I still have her to this day.
Her name is not Kristofera. It’s something very common. And yes. She is old with a very fake body. The lights at Hong Kong and booze does wonders to the imagination.
She’s still cool. Last time I talked to her she was still working in the area. I saw her a couple times after… Always bought her a drink and talked to her a bit. She stopped trying to get me to the rooms after that one time.
The streets were a mess. Crazy amounts of people just wandering Tijuana past 2:00 a.m. searching for anything that is open, but nothing is except 24 hour farmacias.
Shaun and Mike were nowhere to be found. I walked around for several minutes looking for them.
I was tired. I was ready to give up and go home. They can figure out what to do. They are adults. They can stay at a hotel.
And then… I fucking finally found them. Both of them together.
Yep. They did their thing. They got kicked out 2:00 a.m. as well. They miraculously found each other and then found me.
The night didn’t end there.
Everything was closed, and Mike still insisted that he wanted to get with a Mexican chick. Not with a prostitute, but a real one. But still offering money. Makes no sense to me, but fuck it.
He ended up chatting with two short stocky girls that weren’t very pretty… but really common Mexican ladies. Somehow he convinced them to have sex with him and Shaun for $50 each.
Nothing was opened. These were just girls. We walked all the way back to my brother’s place.
On the long walk there, the girls complained about how much we were walking. And we did. We walked shit-tons, nearing 3:00 a.m. Two crazy fucking white Gringos smoking K-2, two random girls, and …. Me. Looking back, a taxi would have been an easy choice.
Shit felt weird. Not sure how or why I agreed to this.
I talked to the girls. They worked at a strip club called El Columpio. They were hookers… both 21-years-old. One had three kids, the other had none. They were best friends and did everything together. They explained more of what happens in Zona Norte.
I told Mike that he was unsuccessful in getting real girls to get with him. He didn’t believe me. He was convinced that they weren’t prostitutes.
At my brother’s place… they did their thing in the dirty old carpet in the living room with no furniture.
I went to bed. Or tried too. I heard the girls getting a taxi 20 minutes later.
Next morning, we had tacos for breakfast and they went back across the border. I never saw either of them ever again. I never smoked K-2 ever again.
Eight years later… I still see both girls together on occasion. Usually on Sundays at Bar Chips. But sometimes randomly. I’m not sure if they are the same girls, but they look exactly like my memory of them. And they seem to look at me like they recognize me but they are not sure who I am. And I look at them thinking they were those two random girls that Mike picked up.
I never really told that story before. Not to this extent. I didn’t imagine I would end up living in Tijuana. I didn’t imagine my brother would get married and still live in the same house…
The dirty old carpet is gone. The house looks nothing like it used too.
And now years later… Sorry bro. I truly am.