Just a Jew. Named Mitch. Writing about his feelings.

Adventures in Mexico

Posted by JewMitch on July 27, 2010

It seems as you get older and more entrenched in your career, it becomes harder and harder to take seriously awesome vacations. The other day I had the sad realization that the last time I went on a vacation longer than 5 days was back in 2006, right after I had taken the Maryland Bar and didn’t have to start work for a few weeks. It’s a great time to take a big trip, because you have plenty of cash left over from working at a law firm during school, and you have absolutely zero responsibilities, because the bar is over and your real job hasn’t started yet.

Before the Bar, I had planned to travel with my then girlfriend to visit one of her friends in Colorado Springs who just had a baby, and then go to L.A. to visit my cousins. However, we luckily wound up breaking up right before graduation, which meant that I could completely skip seeing some stupid baby and fly straight to California, where I had a law school friend who was itching to go a road trip down the West Coast, and then go back up to L.A. to see my family.

We started off in San Francisco, headed down through San Jose, then down to L.A., where we drank $17 Red Bull and Vodkas at the Standard Hotel, had dinner at Blowfish with Paul Lieberstein (from The Office), and almost wound up in a weird orgy (not with Paul), but that’s another story. By the way, Paul Lieberstein is exactly like his character Toby; this was near the height of the Office and he was telling me how he spent the day writing. I asked him what he was working on, and he said (in that depressing Toby voice), “Oh, I write for a television program. It’s called ‘The Office.’ I don’t know if you’ve heard of it.”

But the highlight of the trip was definitely when we decided to violate our rental car contract by crossing the border and going to a small Mexican coastal town called Rosarito. Think Tijuana, but slightly classier and with less high school kids. Our hotel was right on the beach and cost about 70 dollars a night. We hit the beach for the day, walked around town, had some really good tacos, etc.

One amazing thing I learned about small Mexican coastal towns is that you can be sitting anywhere; at a bar, the beach, or a restaurant, and Mexicans in huge sombreros will sneak up on you from behind, tilt your head back and pour tequila down your throat. Afterwards, they’ll request 3 dollars from your friends. You can’t really say no. But why would you want to?

After a full day of surprise tequila shots and Coronas, we were ready to hit the town. None of the bars were too expensive, but if you want to be particularly cheap (as we did), you can just walk around the street and let the all-you-can-drink-specials come to you. We literally could not walk more than ten feet without someone shouting at us to come into their bar. The drink specials were all about the same ($15-$20 for unlimited tequila drinks) and every person working the door swore up and down that although there were no girls in the bar yet, there would be soon.

We wound up in the first place that let me negotiate the door charge down to $10 a person, and we quickly befriended the bartender by learning his name (Juan, I think) and tipping him five American dollars. Apparently, this is all that it takes in Mexico to make a friend for life. We positioned ourselves right at the front of the bar, so that when any girls wanted drinks we could just signal Juan, and he’d hook us up with as many frozen, super-sweet, cheap tequila drinks as we wanted. By the middle of the night we were ordering at least ten at a time. But the night didn’t really get started until we were handing a bunch of free drinks to some girls and they asked us how long we were staying in Rosarito.

“We just moved here!” I said, for no particular reason.

“No Way!”

“Yeah, we wanted to do something crazy after college, so we grabbed all our stuff, drove down here and figured we’d find jobs and an apartment once we got down here. Tonight’s our first night.”

“That’s incredible. We come down here all the time and know all the bar owners. We’ll totally help you find jobs!”

So, the next thing we knew, we were meeting the owner of the bar, telling him that we wanted to be the guys in sombreros who poured tequila shots into people’s mouths. We swore we’d be back the next day to talk to him seriously and were very excited about our new careers. Of course, we all did shots to celebrate, and kept drinking heavily.

I think I probably had about 13 tequila drinks throughout the night (they came in really small cups), and it was one of those nights where you black out, but then come to later on while you’re still out. At one point the entire bar had turned into a foam party, and when I came to, I was grinding against one of the girls who knew the bar owner, while her boyfriend (an extremely large/scary Mexican man) and my law school friend were talking over in the corner.

Things were getting a little hot on the dance floor (like physically hot – it was really crowded), and the next thing I knew, she was asking me if it would be okay she took off her shorts. I nodded yes, and we kept dancing. I remember her waving over at her Mexican boyfriend, who smiled and waved back. While this was going on, the boyfriend was asking my law school friend how long I had been out of the closet as a gay man (apparently, I had told him that I was gay). My friend promptly sprayed his drink out of his mouth, and said tried to insist that I was straight.

Amazingly, instead of promptly charging over and stopping me from grinding with his girlfriend (who was now only wearing a thong), the Mexican boyfriend started defending me and assumed that the reason that I hadn’t come out to my friend was that I must have been nervous that he would judge me. He then starting giving my friend a lecture about tolerance, and how people in who live on the West Coast need to set an example for the rest of the country. All the while, my friend kept insisting that I was straight, and the boyfriend kept not believing him.

Of course, while all of this was going on, we had completely forgotten that we weren’t supposed to drink beverages with ice in them, nor eat the limes that came with our drinks, nor eat the vegetables that were in our dinner/late night tacos. Miraculously, we were both fine the next day, even while we broiled in the hot Mexican sun for the three hours that it took to cross the border back into the U.S. (it took less than 2 minutes to get into Mexico). My buddy was driving straight back to San Francisco, so he dropped me off in Santa Monica, where I was going to stay the night in a hostel.

I had paid the extra 30 dollars for my own room, but it wasn’t ready yet – so I was just walking around Santa Monica by the pier when the combination of Mexican ice/fruit/vegetables hit my fragile Jewish intestinal track. I frantically looked around for a hotel or restaurant that would have a decent bathroom, and but the public bathrooms near the pier were by far the closest option. I bolted towards them, and made it just in time before I exploded on the toilet.

It wasn’t really diarrhea that came out; it more like pissing hot, brown water out of my ass, which burned like crazy on the way out. The stench got really bad in one toilet, so I wiped off, and made my way to the next one, which I destroyed equally. After I finished with that one, I thought I was okay, but ten minutes later, I was back in a third public bathroom, just wrecking it.

After I was done there, I wandered into a pharmacy to get some pepto-bismol or something that would help my stomach. I was completely out of it at this point; hungover, sick to my stomach and totally dehydrated. Of course, no one in the pharmacy spoke English and they had a bunch of off-brand products that I didn’t recognize. I remembered that when I was a kid, my mom used to give me Milk of Magnesia to help my stomach, so when I saw that in a calming pale blue bottle, I just decided to buy that and instantly chugged half the bottle.

Of course, for those of you who have any amount of common knowledge, Milk of Magnesia is actually a laxative and the exact opposite of what I should have bought. It was about fifteen minutes before I was back in the public bathroom, destroying yet another toilet with hot, Mexican, brown ass piss. It was during this time, sitting in this stall, when all of the weight of taking the Maryland Bar suddenly began to set in. I knew I had passed (I had aced the exam), and that in a few months, I would soon be a lawyer. Not a pretend lawyer; but an actual, I-talk-to-clients-on-the-phone-and-actually-practice-law lawyer. Looking back, it was probably an extremely appropriate beginning to my legal career.


4 Responses to “Adventures in Mexico”

  1. danny said

    Couldn’t have laughed harder. Nothing like bathroom humor…

  2. Jake said

    Great story

  3. Disco said

    brown ass piss!! Classy.

  4. […] was inspired by a few of the stories on here, and loyal JewMitch readers will recognize much of the Adventures in Mexico story in the first chapter. Enjoy: […]

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