tijuana boogaloo

Grown weary and discontent with the rut and series of disastrous letdowns which had accumulated during my stay in Tucson, I packed my shit and did what I do best: I hopped an early flight west. After a bumpy and slightly nerve wracking flight (I do not particularly enjoy flying – nothing that big and heavy should be in the air I am prone to saying) I touched down in San Diego around 10:30 in the morning. The stewardess or flight attendant or whatever they are referred to nowadays alleviated my anxiety with calm patter and a flight pin. A little winged trinket which was offered and did, I must say, calm my nerves.

As I was saying, landed in an overcast San Diego and made a bee line through that prestine metropolis direct to the border. Clacking along in the trolley, I was utterly exhausted from the trip and the insidious insomnia from the night before. My plan? What plan – I’m winging this shit. No more plotting, no more dashed hopes of comfort and normality based on middle-American ideals. My vague thoughts are to first rent a monthly room – furnished – and figure the fuck out what next.

Taking a taxi to Centro, I first hit a hotel I always rented from in lieu of their cheap twenty a night rooms. Walked in and the sassy bitch took me for a greenhorn tourist and quoted fifty dollars up front for that windowless trap. Fuck off. I dragged my suitcase out onto the curb where an awaiting schlep driving a cab informed me of another joint for twenty a night and he wasn’t lying. The hotel San Jorge on the corner of Constitution and first, right around the corner from the Plaza and kitty corner across from Club El Torino. Not too shabby.

I settled in and took a much needed nap. Afterwards making my way to the Plaza under the stolid gaze of rent boy and hustler, I munched a much needed meal of a juicy carne asada plate with all the trimmings. Cheap and delicious. I explained to Eduardo, the friendly old bitch who runs The Boys Café my interest in renting a room monthly and he offered to help. “Come back tomorrow morning, I am certain I might have something for you.” Righty-oh.

I located a building I knew of on the corner of eighth between Madero and Revolution which offered furnished rooms and good wifi for $240 a month. I guess that will be my digs until I get my shit together. Returning to my hotel, the old ego was boosted by the smiling eyes of some waif rubbing his crotch at me while sitting in the lobby on it's tattered couch. Too exhausted, I simply trumped up the stars, pounded this shit out and called it a night.
All things considered, I am glad I am back where I feel most comfortable.