Book — Confessions of a Tour Guide: Chapter 21 — Beer and Fuck La Police.

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Chapter 21. Beer and Fuck La Police.

 

Well… It fucking happened.


 

Tijuana has its negative sides. And yesterday was a myriad of bad decisions that led me to feeling like I feel right now. Fucking shitty.


 

First. I skipped work. I’m not sure why I scheduled Sunday, it’s one of the worst days to cross the border. But I scheduled a photo shoot for Sunday. 

 

The line was a mess and I didn’t get confirmation about the gig. So I emailed them to try to reschedule it. 


 

I was already on my way. I decided this outside Nelson. So I went inside Nelson and had a beer…

 

Then I got a call that they were expecting me. Oh boy! Did I feel shitty…


 

And that’s the last call I ever got…


 

Because my fucking phone was stolen by the police later that night.


 

iPhone SE paid 5,300 in pesos which is around $300 USD. That was a couple years ago. Good phone. I needed an upgrade, but I wasn’t planning on it this soon. And I also didn’t want to fucking lose my fucking phone.


 

Beer. That’s what happened.


 

Beer City.


 

Caguamas at Nelson are only 40 pesos. That’s $2.35 per liter of beer. 

 

I had a couple at Nelson. Went to get a burger for 70 pesos, craft beer by Insurgente the new double IPA Hops and Chill for 70 pesos,  and then went home. Watched comedy stand-up (John Mulaney, it was alright) then decided it was time to go out for more beer.


Regular beers at Dandy del Sur are 25 pesos, or roughly $1.50 per beer. Plus my VIP card means I get a 2 x 1 on my first beer there every time. $1.50 for two beers is a fucking steal. 

 

I saw Mapachito there. A tiny girl that I briefly dated that looks like a cartoon raccoon. I sat with her for a while and then her date arrived. A Russian/American guy whose name I forgot and it doesn’t matter. He was also incredulous about how stupid cheap the beer was and talked about how in San Diego it would have been triple or more.


 

More beer at Nelson.


 

Oh shit. I might have to cut this short because a sexy girl just hit me up that she wants to do a photo shoot right now… I need to shower and shit… 


 

After the beer at Nelson, I was on my way home, but my dick decided that he wanted to be gay for the night. It saw long hair, nice ass, short skirt, and was like “follow her, follow her,” though my brain was like “yo, that’s obviously not a woman.”

 

So I followed her. Third time in that weird-ass gay bar with tons of trans women and male strippers. This was Sunday. It was way calmer. 

 

I didn’t get hit on. No one bought me a beer. I had two beers there while people watching. 

 

It was weird. I regret going. If I were gay… I would be there every night. 


 

And on my way home…

 

I got stopped by the cops. 


 

I haven’t been stopped by them in a while, probably more than a year. But it is common to get stopped by them in downtown at those hours at night. 

 

Once, while walking with my boys from Minnesota, the cops stopped us and asked us if we had drugs on us. I told them no and that I lived just on the next block. Then the cop asked again “are you sure you don’t have drugs?”

 

YES, OFFICER, I DO NOT HAVE DRUGS ON ME. 

 

What answer was he expecting? Oh shit… sorry officer, here’s the weed I had… 


 

Point is. I got stopped. I had nothing, but they wanted to search me. I was pretty drunk and just wanted to get it over with, so I let them search me.

 

They let me go right away.


 

A trans girl was nearby and she was telling me she wanted to suck my dick for cheap. I entertained the idea for a second, then I reached into my pockets for my phone to actually dismiss her and walk away…

 

FUCK MY PHONE IS FUCKING GONE.


 

Chick was like “vamos papi, te la chupo bien rico.”  

And I was like… BITCH! Didn’t you just see me get stopped by the cops! They took my phone! Help me!

 

Then I realized she didn’t give a single fuck and I also noticed her protruding mustache. Reality fucking hit me hard.

 

FUCK MY PHONE! 

 

FUCK MY FUCKING PHONE!


Beer city.


 

Danger city.


 

Fuck la police.


 

It could have been worse. I could have been arrested over nothing. I could have been robbed of more. I could even have been killed. Or even worse, gotten my dick sucked by a transgirl of the night.

 

It is a dangerous city and I was fucking around too much. Got too drunk. Skipped work. And spiraled down into oblivion.

 

Now I’m worried about work. And instead of looking for a new car… I’m looking for a new phone because the police stole mine.


No. I didn’t leave it at the gay bar. Nor was it stolen there.

 

I am always on my phone and I don’t lose shit no matter how drunk I get. I have miraculously woken up several times to find I have everything. 

 

Even though in a chapter before I mentioned how I lost my hoodie… 


 

There is a slight chance that it happened before the cops, but I’m certain it was the cops.


 

I distinctly remember playing Pokemon Go on my way home. I’m usually playing that fucking game, and there are several pokestops on my way. There’s a gym in La Catedral which is by my house, two blocks before the cop incident. I always stop by there and leave my Tyranitar or Donphan. I’m sure I tried that again.


 

Then the cops stopped me. It was a van, not a pick-up or a car, I remember I was against the van. They searched my pockets. I said I had nothing, and walked away.

 

Phone gone. It’s still offline.


 

Cops are famous for ripping off tourists. My old roommate got his rent money stolen once by the cops at plain daylight in the middle of downtown. I told him that that is ridiculous and only happens if you are stupid. 

 

Now I was a victim of it.

 

I can’t believe my fucking phone is gone.


 

I’m trying to track it. It’s offline. My phone is most likely gone. 

 

Fuck me.


 

The dangers of Tijuana beer city. Everything city.


 

And I’m going to extensively talk about beer. Beer is my favorite thing. Be it cheap ass fucking Tecate or a nice sour or IPAs.

 

I claimed Tijuana has the best tacos in the world. Here’s another ludicrous claim.

 

Tijuana has the best beer in the world.


 

Recently, two beers from the area got bronze medals on the World Cup of Beer. I don’t like neither of the beers that won and is definitely not the best beer in town, but at least they got a couple of bronze medals. More are for sure to come.


 

San Diego claims to have some of the best beer in the world. We are their neighbors and little brother to the beer craze. 

 

The hop insanity started in the early 90s because of Stone beer, it has extended through the world, and whatever trend San Diego does… Tijuana is quick to follow.

 

We are currently living in the hazy phase. NEIPAs (or New England Indian Pale Ale) started the trend. At first, I disliked it. It just looked and tasted like an IPA gone wrong…

 

But now… now I’m starting to love them. They are doing interesting things with hazy beers. Very fruity. Many give me a guava juice feel. They are delicious and I’m loving it.


 

It was a weird weekend out of my weird fucking life. Beer guide next. And say goodbye to all this text. 


 

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