If you follow me on Twitter, you might remember one or two of my tweets regarding waking up in a strange condition. Well, 140 characters isn’t nearly enough to tell such a bat-shit crazy story, so I thought I’d give you the deets right here. So buckle up, and grab your brain-lube and head-bone condoms, because this is going to be an all-night mind-fuck. We’ll probably stop and take naps and smoke cigarettes and maybe make a quick PB&J, but then it’s right back to the sweaty, sticky, nasty mind-fucking.
I opened my eyes, and right away I knew I was F’d. I was in a hotel I didn’t recognize, my head screamed with a pain that can only be described as a bitch, wrapped in an ache and dipped in the most painful sauce in the universe. As I sat up and tried to get out of the “bed“, I realized I had been shot. A large cake of black and brown blood had dried to my leg, and I realized that I was also covered in Mexican Pesos, most of which were stuck to my clothing and the mattress with blood that I could only hope was mine. Chickens ran around in the room on the dirt floor, and a half empty bottle of some unknown liquor sat next to the bed in the dust and blood and almost worthless currency. I opened the curtains and let the sunlight rip the darkness a new a-hole, and the chickens exploded into bursts of sulfur and blue flame. Vampire chickens, eh? This had to be Juarez, Mexico.
I took a pull from the bottle next to the bed, which turned out to be what I had been spitting and pissing in for some time. Three hours later, when I had finished puking, I wet my face, fished through my pockets for a cigarette, and found half of a grimey spliff. Now this was beginning to make sense. Everyone knows that nobody knows what anyone is capable of on a marijuana binge. This was worse than I ever could have feared.
I left the room, and set off in search of something to drink that hadn’t been inside my body. I found a bar, or “cantina“, just down the street. I stumbled in, and just like in the movies, the unsavory characters froze in place to get a look at this stained gringo who just let all the stale beer-air out of the room. Several chickens exploded from the sunlight. Fucking Juarez. I crossed the bar to get a drink. All eyes silently followed me as I dragged my shot leg through the dust on the floor. I peeled a few bloody Pesos from my shirt, slapped them on the bar, and ordered a shot of tequila. The barkeep seemed hesitant at first, but eventually he reached under the bar and poured a shot. The unsavory characters resumed chatting (in Spanish) and playing cards, dominoes, and of course “Hi-Ho Cherry-O“.
I spotted a door toward the back that had a crude stencil of a donkey on it. I knew immediately what kind of place this was. Shortly after I thought to myself “What the hell?” because you’re (hopefully) only ever in Juarez once. I crossed the bar, and opened the door. Inside, there was a small crowd circled around the only part of the room that was lit. I parted through the crowd, and saw exactly what one would expect at a donkey-show: Retired Mexican woman leading their prize donkeys around in a circle for a panel of judges to evaluate, and score accordingly. I found a quiet place to sit, and a young man approached me. He asked me (in Spanish) “Are you Brian Gray?” I was taken aback. How long had I been in this god-forsaken part of a country that god had forsaken alkready, so it was like being double forsaken by the son of a bitch. “Why?” I asked (in Spanish). “You are the legendary comedian from the North…I’d know that face anywhere,” he said (in Spanish), “I’ve downloaded all of your shows on the internet.” “Leave me alone kid,” I snapped (in Spanish), “Let me just quietly masturbate in peace like everyone else here.” The young man produced a small handgun. “You had better come with me,” he whispered (in Spanish) “There’s some men who would love to meet you”. “Fuck,” I muttered (in Spanish) as I pushed my throbbing manhood back into my pants. “I guess I don’t have much choice do I?” “Actually, I just wanted to show you my new pistol. You can stay here if you like, I don’t really give two shits”, he said. (In Spanish) I shrugged. I had already put the war-hammer away, so I might as well meet these men. Maybe they had some answers. “Let’s go see these men”, I said (in Spanish).
To be continued…