Nearly 40 years ago I decided to travel to Mexico with two women. One became the love of my life and the other is a dear friend to this day.
When I made the decision to undertake this trip it never occurred to me that the trip would be significantly different from the one I had taken to Mexico the year before with two male friends. It is a tribute to how naïve I was that it never crossed my mind that a trip down the mid section of the U.S. and into Mexico with two women would ever require me to take on the traditional male role of protector of women. I’m sure it occurred to Mary and Pat’s fathers but I was blissfully unconcerned. I know that years later when it was my daughter who moved to Mexico to teach school and live with her fiancé I had a very definite expectation that Pako would protect her.
As I think of my qualifications for the role I was subconsciously undertaking I marvel at how naïve Pat and Mary must have been back then. I was nearly 5 foot eleven and all of 135 pounds of fighting fury. My self-defense experience consisted of watching the Friday Night Fights on TV as I was growing up and three techniques that allowed me to survive to the ripe old age of 20.
The first technique was the possession of a quick tongue and a strong survival instinct that helped me anticipate danger and try to defuse it before I got hurt. A second survival method I employed was to have a tough friend. People tend to leave you alone if they think messing with you will bring a visit from someone who can hurt them. Finally, the technique I employed the most was my ability to run fast. Making the decision to bolt at the right time and not ever being the slowest of the group that was fleeing saved me from more than a few beatings.
These techniques were all fine and good when applied in Green Bay and limited to my own personal safety. Given that we were going to travel thousands of miles by car, bus, train, truck, and thumb, my tried and true methods of self-defense didn’t stack up too well. First, when we got to Mexico, my Spanish allowed me to communicate on the level of a seriously brain damaged individual, so it was unlikely I would be able to talk my way out of anything. I didn’t have a tough friend with me and running might have saved my ass (I think I can still out run Mary and Pat), but probably wouldn’t have fulfilled my obligation on the protection front.
Our travel plan was to get to the U.S./Mexico border as quickly and cheaply as possible and then roam around Mexico for as long as our money lasted. The first thing we did was to arrange to pick up a “drive a way” car in Chicago and drive it to the owner’s home in Houston.
After we dropped off the car in Houston I experienced a small inkling of what was to come. The three of us had gone to a diner in Houston and I went up to the cashier after we were done to pay our tab. Sitting at the counter was a large African American fellow with a gold tooth who smiled at me and asked if Mary and Pat were with me. I told him they were, he gave me a knowing grin, and asked what I wanted to sell them to him. Suddenly the conversation had taken a direction I had not anticipated. Recovering from the surprise I tried to knowingly grin back at him and told him I was keeping them. He nodded and seemed to be indicating, one business man to another, he understood my decision and would not pursue the matter further. At the time, I thought it was a pretty weird encounter but really didn’t connect it to the thought that traveling with two women the way we were would draw any undue or unwanted attention.
We made our way to the Mexican border and took a train to Mexico City. The Mexico we were entering in the early 1970’s was different from Mexico today. Machismo was a stronger force back then. Women were chaperoned by a husband, brother or father when they ventured out in public. It is remarkable that now days you see Mexican women playing basketball and volley ball two nights a week at the municipal courts in the heart of the central part of the city. Back in the day, you could get arrested for wearing shorts on Sunday. It was a different time with different rules.
Naturally, our travelling arrangement brought us a lot of attention. Some of it was a lot of fun like the time a Mexican man who had been introduced to Mary told us he had five daughters and he had named them all Maria. Other times people opened up their homes and let us spend the night in a spare room. Mary received a marriage proposal from a cowboy on a train. The cowboy attempted to win her over by offering to buy her all the cigarettes she wanted. Somehow she was able to resist and we travelled on. The three of us brought a pool hall to a complete halt as everyone in the building decided to stop their games and watch the phenomenon of two women playing pool. As all this was going on, it dawned on me that this trip was going to be different from the one I took the year before.
We also had some not-so-sweet encounters, including one where the denial of an offer to purchase Pat and Mary resulted in our being driven out and dumped in the desert in Baja California. Another time we had a weird experience with a cracked poet in a three cornered hat who believed he deserved an American woman and was upset when we didn’t agree.
By far, the craziest experience we had was on a beach just out side the town of San Tomas on the southern end of the Baja Peninsula. San Tomas was on the Pacific side of the peninsula and featured an under ground water source that made it a bit of a garden spot on the extremely dry Baja. We were traveling with two pup tents and headed to a beautiful beach just north of the town proper. The beach was an undeveloped stretch of white sand for as far as the eye could see and we were the only people setting up camp. It was a truly beautiful location. The surf would break late and crash against the rocks and throw it’s foam high in the air. Not exactly a place to swim, but for sheer beauty it was hard to beat.
The first day we went into town in the late afternoon to find a place to eat. After we ate we walked back to our camp and begin to prepare for a quiet night. Sometime around 8:00pm a group of about eight fisherman started to collect driftwood and proceeded to build a large bonfire about 30 yards from the front of our tents. As it became evident that the fisherman intended that we enjoy their bonfire with them we walked over and joined them. Soon they had a roaring fire going, the sun set and a million stars appeared in the night sky. The fisherman had brought tequila and beer and we sat around drinking and trying to communicate. There was a lot of laughter and good-natured fooling around. Communication seemed somehow easier as the beer and tequila flowed. At some point someone kept lighting up these funny little cigarettes and passing them around. Every time they would get to Mary, she would put them out on a rock near where she was sitting and drop the butt in her pocket. By then, no one seemed to notice and the party continued.
Feliciano was sitting next to me and taking very long and impressive pulls from the tequila bottle as it was passed around. Feliciano was about five foot ten and 195 pounds. When he would finish a beer he would take his fist and with about three crashing blows drive the can under the sand. Having seen him do this a couple of times and feeling the effects of our camp fire activities I tried to duplicate his feat. I brought my hand down on the top of the can and drove it about a sixteenth of an inch into the sand. The pain from my attempt was running from my fist to my elbow and I gained a new appreciation of Feliciano’s strength. Then just as the pain subsided I looked over and saw Feliciano reach into the campfire, pick up a red-hot coal and light his cigar with it. It would have taken a heck of a lot more beer and tequila to get me to try that trick.
About 1:00am the beer and tequila ran out and the boys decided to go to town to get more. By then we thought it was highly unlikely we would see them again and the three of us retired to our pup tents. Pat and I slept in one tent and Mary slept in the other with our backpacks.
About an hour and a half later as we had drifted off the sleep we heard soft calls of “Daveed, Patricia and Maria.” Pat and I unzipped our tent and stuck our heads out and found eight fisherman laying on their stomachs fanned out around the door of our tent. Apparently their late night search for alcohol had been successful and they had graciously come back to share it with their new friends.
Pat and I knew we were stuck with hosting this affair but we told our new friends that Mary wanted to sleep and they should leave her alone. Everyone but a guy named Roberto respected our wishes. Every now and then we would see him start to get up and sneak over toward Mary’s tent. We would bring this to the attention of the others and they would force Roberto to come back to our tent.
I do want to say that while the fisherman thought my tequila consumption was pretty wussy, they were impressed with how much beer I could put away. After all, I was from Wisconsin and I had to uphold the honor of our home state. At one point I couldn’t hold my head up any more and as I laid with my head and shoulder stuck out of the tent door, I face planted myself in the sand. When I was able to raise my head everyone was laughing and had apparently greatly appreciated my act.
Finally, around 3:00am the beer ran out and six of the fisherman wandered off. Feliciano and Roberto went down to the embers of the campfire and were engaged in conversation. This disturbed Pat and I as Roberto had been the one who had been trying to sneak off to Mary’s tent and Feliciano had demonstrated the kind of strength and toughness that confirmed we wouldn’t be able to prevent him from doing any thing he wanted to do.
After we had watched them for a while they seemed to be ending the conversation and going to sleep so Pat and I decided we could do the same. Here I have to note that I sleep in the buff.
AUTHOR’S NOTE #1: I can already hear most of the people who are reading this post saying “way, way too much information”. I here by pledge that I will not gratuitously use the following words and phrases in this blog: naked, buck naked, nekkid, buck nekkid, birthday suit, bare, stripped, nude, unclad, unappareled, or skin leotard. These terms will only be used if they are intrinsic to the story. After all I am a serious artist.
Back to the story. Just as Pat and I were drifting off to sleep we heard a blood-curdling scream coming from Mary’s tent. Apparently Roberto had waited until everyone had gone to sleep and then crept up to Mary’s tent and was whispering indecent proposals. Getting no response the drunken fisherman got up, got his feet tangled in the tent ropes and came crashing down collapsing Mary’s tent.
I bolted awake and rushed, buck naked out of our tent to find Roberto laying on top of the collapsed tent with Mary trapped inside continuing to whisper his enticing proposals. I grabbed Roberto’s ankle and pulled him off Mary. I then sprung into my Friday Night Fights’ boxer stance and began bobbing and weaving and flapping in the wind.
AUTHOR’S NOTE #2: Please add “flapping in the wind” to the list previously compiled in AUTHOR’S NOTE #1.
Roberto struggled to his feet and with a bewildered look, took in the sight of a skinny, wild haired, gringo jumping around like the cowardly lion in the Wizard of OZ. While it took a moment for Roberto to realize what was happening I was praying that I didn’t actually have to fight. In a totally sober encounter I have little doubt I would have been toast. But Roberto was as plastered as I was but my fear had pushed my intoxication to the back of my brain, at least temporarily, and I thought I might have a chance if it came to blows.
Then the real hero of the story sprang into action. Pat ran from our tent down to the campfire and was screaming at Feliciano that his friend was molesting our friend. She was tugging on Feliciano as he struggled to come awake from his stupor.
Finally, Pat succeeded in rousing the big fisherman and he walked over, picked up Roberto, and walked back to the camp fire where he unceremoniously dumped him in the sand and proceeded to give him a couple of good swift kicks for good measure. Feliciano and Roberto argued for a short while and then finally as the sun was beginning to come up walked off, presumably to go fishing. Mary moved into our tent and we kept watch.
The next day, Mary understandably wanted to leave Mexico as quickly as we could manage. But after thinking about it for a day she decided to stay with our original plan to stay until our money ran out. Today we have many fond memories of that trip and we can laugh at some things that didn’t seem so funny at the time.
