Hey everyone,

Before venturing off on our trip, Rob and I had a few days to kill in Los
Angeles. This gave me a chance to spend a little more time with Stephanie
and Noel and play with their psychotic cat. While taunting the moody
feline, I noticed that Pauline had "accidentally" left behind a photo of
herself smooching another guy. Real cool.

I also got a chance to show Rob my university (University of Southern
California), a few of the nearby gang hoods, and the sites of many famous,
racially-motivated beatings. I was also able to catch up with some old
university buddies and join them for a meal at Roscoe's Chicken & Waffles.
Even though he spent most of his time bitching that LA street signs aren't
well-lit or well-placed, Rob didn't seem to mind doing all of the driving.

Rob and I decided to take a trip down to San Diego. It's one of my favorite
cities, and we were hoping to get down there in time to visit the San Diego
Zoo. On the way down, we picked up my friend Leslie.

Unfortunately, the scrubland around San Diego was on fire, and traffic was
backed up for miles. By the time we got into San Diego, it was already
dark. The zoo was closed, so we did the next best thing and went to
Hooters. At that fine establishment, we munched on some chicken wings and
watched Rob's alma mater, Florida State, get trounced in the Orange Bowl.

After the game, we decided to head down to Mexico for a few hours. We
parked the car a few hundred feet from the border and walked to the border
crossing. The Mexican customs officer just smiled like an idiot and waved
us in.

Immediately after crossing the border, my nose filled with the smell of
dirty rags. We walked towards the main strip in Tijuana, passing a few
Mexicans asleep in front of their cheap souvenir stands and then over a
bridge.

Avenida Revolucion is Tijuana's main strip. It's dirty and smelly, with
lots of cheesy logos, annoying shop-owners in front of their souvenir shops,
annoying taxi drivers in front of their smoking cars, and annoying young men
doing their best to entice us into one of the zillion dance and strip clubs
along the strip. All of them were open, but most of them were empty.

As we walked down the street, we were offered weed, ecstasy, and crystal.
One man kept asking Leslie if she wanted to ride his mechanical bull.
Craving a bit of non-chemical excitement, I led Rob and Leslie into one of
the strip clubs.

A seedy man led us down a flight of smelly stairs and into the club. He
showed us a nice table on one corner of the dance floor and served us
margaritas. An average-looking Mexican woman came on stage and started
gyrating. After a few minutes, Rob started waving around dollar bills, and
the woman walked over to us.

For Rob's dollar, the woman leaned down and bit his crotch through his
jeans, leaving behind a ring of purple lipstick. Rob slid a dollar over to
Leslie. The woman leaned down and fondled her breasts through her shirt.
Leslie, a heterosexual, cringed but then shyly cracked a smile. Then Rob
slid a dollar over to me. The woman grabbed my head (the one on my neck)
and squeezed me tightly against her breasts. I couldn't help smiling, but
the last thing I wanted to do was let my teeth or any part of my mouth touch
her veteran nipple. After a few moments, she released me.

We visited a few more strip clubs on our way out of Tijuana. All of them
were as seedy as the first one, with climbs up or down several flights of
foul-smelling stairs to dance floors where skanky Mexican women would be
gyrating. The whole Tijuana strip club scene was not nearly as raunchy as I
thought it would be, with dancers keeping most of their clothes on and no
sex in dark corners of the room. Then again, I didn't pull out any large
bills. In the end, Rob and I were just satisfied that we had planted seeds
of lesbianism into Leslie's fertile psyche. Stay tuned.

On the way back to the border, I wanted to pick up a souvenir "burro
pequito", but I couldn't find any. All of the "burros" I found were "mas
grande." So I had to settle for a "tortuga pequita". I named him Terry.

We crossed the border and headed back to LA for a few hours sleep before
embarking on the long drive home to Texas. Our schedule will have me back
home in a week. I can't believe I'll be home in a week. I don't want to be
home in a week.

No Regrets.

Jeff