Caliente.......

[Chillin-the-Most]

We actually have a little Caliente Satellite here in Curacao. Their limits on horses are quite generous considering the money stays out of the pools(except Calinte Dogs). The tax on winners though makes them tough to beat. The exception ofcourse is a ticket that would normally be "Withholding" at the track. They WILL PAY a pick six with no limits, in which case the 1½ percent is a blessing compared to the states.

[reno]

Doggie Style, I lived in Pacific Beach, which is right next to Mission Beach, for 6 years in the 90s. I used to roller skate along the boardwalk and stare at the bouncing boobs protruding from the itsy, bitsy, teeeny-weeny bikinis. I'd often skate with a married couple that are friends of mine. The wifey would get very irritated at my buddy because he also stared. I do hope that you have the discipine to avoid staring, and thus attracting the ire of wifey.

[Junior44]

Reno - I live in PB. Things haven't changed.

[DoggieStyle]

My wife is the greatest. She will point them out to me if I don't see them. She doesn't have to worry. She also lets me go alone with my friends. San Diego is a beautiful place.

I could live there....

[SoCal]

small world....

I've been in PB for the last three years. Got myself a beach bunny too. I love this place. I can be at a Calinete' ticket window in just under 45 minutes if the traffic is right.

[Cons]

Reno, can you tell us more about your experience at the Mexican jail you mentioned? I've always heard from people who live in the US and travel to Mexico that a Mexican jail is the last place you want to end up in. If you don't want to evolve on the subject then I fully understand. I just thought it would be interesting to hear the full story from someone who's talking from experience (as opposed to most people who base things on rumors coming from "a friend of a friend").

[reno]

Cons, my night in the TJ jail happened in the early 90s, shortly after I moved from Vegas to San Diego. I hadn't been to TJ in years, so I wasn't prepared for what transpired.

I picked up a hooker at the Adelita Bar and took her up to the adjoining hotel. She agreed to "do" me for $40, and--expecting change after our roll in the hay--I handed her a Franklin, the last of my money. Well, after coitus, when I asked for my change, she refused to give it to me. I complained to the Hotel front desk guys, who called the police. The police came, and arrested me for "not paying the girl."

The police asked for "mordida," but I had no money left. So, they threw me in the back of a paddywagon packed full with drunks and derelicts. For the next couple of hours, the paddywagon drove around town in a frenzied manner, causing those of us in the back to continually get smashed against each other. By the time we arrived at the police station, I had bruises and cuts on my face.

Upon arrival at the police station, I was fingerprinted and phographed, and then thrown in a cell with about a dozen other guys. The cell, approximately 8' X 12,' had cement floors and walls, with no sink or real toilet. Instead of a toilet, a cement block with a hollowed-out hole served as the commode. Luckily, I went the whole night without need of pissing or shltting. I can just imagine what the Mexican guys in my cell would have done to me if I stunk up the cell with my shlt

A "guard," a grubby guy dressed in civilian clothes, came to our cell and asked if anyone wanted to buy water or food, or pay to make a phone call. I believe he wanted something like $20 for access to these desirables. Since I had no money left, and since all of the guys in my cells were Mexicans with no love of Gringos, I was out of luck. Furthermore, if I'd had money and attempted to buy food or water, the violent Mexicans in my cell would no doubt have stolen it from me.

When I asked the "guard" questions, like what was going to happen with me, he just gave me an evil smile, and said he couldn't answer unless I gave him money.

One of the guys in the cell, a big belligerent guy, had it in for me and wanted to fight me, even though I had been very careful to not antagonize anybody.

All of the guys in my cell had been arrested together for beating up some transvestites. I was asked by some of the guys in the cell if I liked transvestites. I made sure to tell them that I totally despised them.

It turned out that one of the guys-- the only seemingly civilized one--in my cell was the son of an influential Mexican newspaper columnist. So, they decided to let him out early. Because I felt in desperate need of making contact with someone in the USA to come to my rescue, I gave him my sister's San Diego phone number and promised him I would send him $200 if he called her on my behalf.

The next afternoon--or, rather, later in the same day since I'd been arrested well after midnight--the "District Attorney came to our cell. He said that he would let us all out if we surrendered valuables he wanted, such as sunglasses and leather jackets. Also, we all had to sign an agreement stating that we would not prosecute the transvestites. Obviously, it made no difference that I wasn't even involved in that case; I was simply lumped together with the Mexicans in my cell.

Upon being let out, I walked to the other side of the border where my car was parked, and I drove home. Once home, I called my sister, and it turned out that the Mexican had called her, and that she, in turn, had called the U.S. Consulate, which promised to intercede. I never bothered to learn if the Consulate had contacted the Mexican government on my behalf. However, the story has a happy ending: As promised, I sent the $200 check to the Mexican, but he never cashed it.

[Cons]

Great post, Reno! I had an overnight stay once but it was less eventfull as I was stuck alone with nothing but concrete to look at...