Cheating Death Pre-Papa K Style: Episode Three

Quick note to my mother: DON’T READ THIS!!

Okay… now that that is out of the way…


Another quick note:  this is a story about my young stupid past.  In no way am I supporting this type of behavior AT ALL!  In fact… I hope the story discourages other young people from being as STUPID as I was!

So, to scare you straight, here are two other stories about when I almost died: Story One and Story Two.


It was spring time and my college buddies and I decided to go on a spring break trip to Padre Island.  unfortunately… we decided to do this A WEEK before our spring break!  Every hotel worth its salt had already been booked for months.  So we had to settle for this cruddy motel in Port Aransas which was about 15 miles outside of Corpus Christi. 

After an over eight hour drive we finally arrived at our motel where they more than likely made snuff films and promptly decided after dropping off our luggage that we wanted to make the short trek to Mexico to kick off our spring break.

Our motel.  Looks rather homey doesn’t it?

The inside of our motel room.  What?

The town we focused our attention on was a border town right south of Brownsville, TX called Matamoras.

I need to point out that when I told my parents that I was taking this trip… they requested only one thing:  “DO NOT GO INTO MEXICO”!  But, as it is with most 20-year-olds, I lacked the ability to tell what was REAL concern passing through the lips of my parents…  and I didn’t listen.  The draw of being able to legally drink at age 20 was too much of a temptation for me.

Once we crossed over the bridge and made it past all the legless peddlers selling Chicklets for a dollar our eyes met all the little bars and clubs littered on the main boardwalk.  With our new-found power and without the fear of being underage we were uninhibited even walking by the Mexican police and their AK-47’s into these dives and drank ourselves silly. 

It’s amazing how many opportunities there are to waste a dollar in Mexico.  We paid to have our picture taken.  We paid for one of those silly sombreros.  We even paid a dollar to get ourselves electrically shocked by this one dude… it was ridiculous.  If you wanted to contract some flesh-eating disease… you could even get a tattoo!  Thankfully, I had enough wits about me not to get tattooed in Mexico. 

As the night went on we found ourselves in a pretty good crowd of American spring-breakers all coming across the border to go to some of the clubs.  We grew tired of the overcrowded Matamoras scene and decided to drive to Padre Island.  We exited the club we were in and started to walk back to the bridge that crossed back to our homeland.  As some inebriated strolls go… we kept getting hung up in conversations with other Americans, pause to take pictures with random strangers or being stopped by peddlers trying to sell shrunken heads.

As I had “broken the seal” sometime earlier, it wasn’t long before mother nature was making her call on me again.

I had to go to the bathroom.


This was a problem because every club and bar had a huge line in front of it.  There was no way I was going to wait in line AND pay a cover JUST to go to the bathroom.

So I ducked into (what I thought was) a fairly secluded area and let it go. 

When I was finished, I zipped up then turned around and was met by two Mexican police.

I nervously smirked but they weren’t laughing.

“You can’t do that,” one of them said in broken English.


“Are you peeing on my street?  Don’t make me shoot your ass!”

I suddenly could clearly remember the stories I had heard about Americans going to Mexican jails and what horrible times they had.  I hadn’t realized the severity of my actions and perhaps thought that since I was in Mexico… I would have to do something much worse than public urination. 

This probably would have been true if I wasn’t peeing on the sidewalk.  I clearly wasn’t in my right mind as I emptied my bladder.

I apologized fervently.  I kept saying, “I’m so sorry.  I’m so sorry.  I’m so sorry.”  I said this the whole time with my hand on my wallet.  I had heard that you could buy out the Mexican police.

“Okay… you can go but next time you go to Mexican jail!” one of them said as he adjusted his rifle.

They then parted and let me pass between them unscathed.  I hurried to my group and told them we needed to get out of here. 

My group had been oblivious to what had happened.  I could have been carted off, against my will, to film the real life version of “Mexico Chainsaw Massacre” and they would’ve still been trying to talk the guy down from selling his sombrero from $10 to $8!

We eventually made it back over the bridge and through the legless peddlers to American soil where peeing in public will undoubtedly get you arrested… but more than likely without the fear of getting murdered too.


 It wasn’t until looking back on this several years later that I realized how close I was to never being heard from again. 

Matamoras ain’t safe AT ALL.  It’s a border town full of crime.

I read an article about Matamoras not to long ago that sent a shiver through my spine.  It was an article about college kids that were being kidnapped by FAKE COPS in Matamoras EXACTLY around the same time I was approached for peeing in public!  These fake cops would target male, blond-haired college students.  Once they had them under “arrest”, they would drive them out to the middle of nowhere and sacrifice them in satanic rituals.  Once the sacrifice was over, they would wear the kids spinal cords as a necklace in future rituals.

I’m not even kidding.

Those cops that approached me… might not have been cops at all.

Someone was watching over me. 


12 responses to “Cheating Death Pre-Papa K Style: Episode Three

  1. Its best not to ‘f’ with Jose with a semi-automatic machine gun in his own back yard. They may cut the grass and build houses in the states but they will straight up murder your ass in the mother-land.

  2. I used to live in california and we went over into mexico all the time to drink.

    I have to agree they their own rules over there. You dont even have to be doing anything wrong to end up in a bad situation.

    Glad you made it out alive.

  3. Holy crap, that’s one of my worst nightmares. Having someone else wear my spinal cord as a necklace it the one way I do NOT want to go! I’ve never been to Mexico, and now I know I’m never going. Glad you made it out of there. Just think if you hadn’t, we would never have seen your generous pics of Bunny!

  4. …..thank heavens this had a good ending. You know what my favorite part of this Blog is ??
    The Tag you made for it “Don’t Read this , Mom !”
    Believe me, she read it ……..and I wouldn’t be surprised if she knocks you upside your head the next time she sees you…..and I hope she does it for me too !!
    :::sweet smile :::

  5. Wow. I totally believe you. I have been to that exact place. We went there when I was 9 to meet my dad’s new “wife” (arranged by the woman’s brother who was an ice-cream truck driver in South Houston, TX – not making this up). It was my first glimpse of Mexico and I was not impressed. My Dad seemed to think that because he was Puerto-Rican and spoke spanish that we were “fine”. I was convinced we were in danger.

    I clearly remember it being very dirty there. I didn’t want to touch anything or go into any place. I was afraid to eat.

    The chicklet peddlers were creepy. Everywhere everyone wanted to sell you little packs of gum. Weird.

    You are very lucky. Guardian angels are awesome.

  6. Did you just write this post with the underlying theme of Donnie Darko? The pic of the giant bunny…with what looked like a gun in hand… Hmm? 😉

  7. Actually, no, I didn’t read it, Cathie (I just read the comments) There are just some things I’d rather not know. Hints are bad enough. Besides, I have plenty of other reasons to kick his butt, harhar. And yes, thank God he got out alive (and I do everyday).

  8. Mexican cops and the military carry M-16’s. 🙂 I’ve been through Matamoros many times, and I can truthfully say that each time I had the good sense to just keep moving forward! Unlike you it seems! LOL

  9. It’s not the prizes that keep me coming back!

    And I knew Ms. Kardashian was YOUR “free space” seductress…see, I do pay attention.

    After this week, I needed the laugh, and frankly I hope I win, there’s at least a 1/4 inch on my fridge not covered!!

  10. It’s not the prizes that keep me coming back!

    And I knew Ms. Kardashian was YOUR “free space” seductress…see, I do pay attention.

    After this week, I needed the laugh, and frankly I hope I win, there’s at least a 1/4 inch on my fridge not covered!!


    (how I put this on the wrong post is beyond me!)

  11. Back in 2001 I went down to Brownsville with a girl I was dating. She was from there and I could see the MEXICO border. It’s the closest I’ve been. From what they told me.. Matamores was right on the other side. ONe of their cousins said they kidnap white people (me) and kill them doing similar things you described. I was scared beyond belief. It’s the closest I’ve ever been to Mexico..

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