Last Saturday I was mulling over how I could spend the day PRODUCTIVE when a friend called. Bets had been won and a trip to Tijuana was needed to collect winnings, did I want to go along to grab some tacos and beer? My initial thought was, why the hell would I go to Tijuana for tacos and beer? That was quickly replaced by why not? So off we went.

This would be my first trip to TJ since I was a 19 year old college freshman looking for lenient drinking laws, my social protest against the U.S. governments draconian stance on the issue. It would also mark my first visit to the city of the future during daylight hours.

We grabbed the last parking spot in the second lot we went to (TJ was apparently the place to be) and headed for the revolving door that is Mexico’s border police (seriously, it’s a revolving door). My more experienced Tijuana tourist friends lead me down to Revolution Boulevard in search of cerveza and lunch. Along the way, small, cute children tried to extort my hard earned money with over priced gum, juggling, and looks of despair. Your going to have to try harder than that kids!

Eventually we walked into the Hard Rock Cafe. I have no idea why. If we were going to TJ why would we go to a crappy version of a restaurant we could go to in the Gaslamp? One of my amigo’s was disappointed by the lack of crowd inside, decided we would push on. I’m not sure what made him think the place would be busy at 1:00 on a Saturday afternoon, or why he cared. After much debate we ended up on the deck of a second story restaurant that from the looks of it makes most of it’s money as a nightclub. We drank a couple of beers, fell victim to the whistle and tequila guy (one of the few instances in my life when I regret falling victim to peer pressure) and spent quality time questioning the sexuality of amigo #1.

We headed back towards the border, stopped for some tacos (delicious), continued questioning said friends sexuality to the point that he almost hit on a woman who was with her two children, and headed back towards America. We soon learned that the line to return to our homeland stretched as far as the eye could see, or at least around a corner and farther than we could see. After a quick trip into the duty free and walking past a couple hundred dutiful que-ers we were a half hour from home.

All in all, I don’t think I’ll be making many more trips to TJ unless I develop a bit of a gambling habit/problem. But the tacos were delicious. The day did not turn out to be PRODUCTIVE.

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