Cancun, November 2011.
Tranquilo
I shook myself off, zipped up and sidled back through the narrow passage back to the main road. Just as I was reaching it two men appeared to block my path.
Fuck.
~
The night up to that point had been surreal. I’d not been in the country twenty-four hours when I had met Josh in the plaza by a food stall. He was Mexican but had lived in the states a couple of years, so his English was pretty good. Josh was a nice guy – he was my first Mexican friend. We played a couple of games of pool at a bar nearby and talked about the country I had just arrived in. He said that there in Cancun it was pretty safe, but further north I’d need to be more careful. He suggested a few places to visit and I happily listened to his advice.
Eventually we went back to have a couple of beers at his place not far away. It was a nice apartment; he showed me round and we stopped in his room to listen to music. I was sitting the bed when suddenly he came over and sat next to me urging me to lie back whilst he lifted up my shirt. Apparently, I must have unwittingly been giving out some kind of culturally specific Mexican gay vibes. Before I could pull my shirt back down, he’d caught sight of my pale white skin and it had sent him into a fever. He got a feral look in his eyes and started fidgeting, becoming agitated as we tussled momentarily for jurisdiction over my shirt.
I stood up and he hugged me tight, saying that everything was fine and that I just needed to relax. I tried to relax, but it was difficult with his erection stuck to my leg as it was. He was a foot shorter than me, so I never really felt threatened, but I had never felt another man’s erection before and it was a little disconcerting to say the least. I asked him stop because he was making me feel uncomfortable. He eventually released me but it took him a few minutes to compose himself and get his breath back after the frenzy I had accidentally unleashed. I didn’t want to leave straightaway, partly to avoid even more embarrassment and partly just to prove I could handle it. Instead I asked him if he always swung that way; I was sure that earlier in the evening we’d talked about girls and girlfriends. Turned out he was normally into women but made the exception for special occasions.
I’d have been flattered if I didn't think he was a total liar. He was very apologetic and insisted on taking me out to the playa to make up for it. I was still suspicious of his motives so made some excuses as we left his place. He insisted, with promises of free entry, booze and girls. As we crossed the street we passed a group of women at the bus stop; come on, he said, we can get the bus with them. After a moment’s hesitation I told him to wait as I went to ditch the shopping I was still carrying around with me. By the time I’d got back the girls had gone and my heart sank. Before I had time to devise another escape strategy, the bus pulled up.
~
We left town and sped along the long road to the beach, passing palm after palm, hotel after hotel. I didn't expect to be going so far out of town and wondered how we were going to get back once the buses stopped running. After the bus ride everything became a blur; hopping from one expensive club to another, skipping the queues and paying nothing. With and a nod and a handshake we were through. He introduced me a couple of times but the bouncers just looked through me. I wondered how many “friends” of his they’d been introduced to.
All the clubs, punters, music and drinks were American. I hadn’t quite realised how much of a party destination Cancun was for the states; we could easily have been in Miami or some other beach party town. The clubs all looked alike with one exception; Senor Frogs. It was enormous, spreading out over several floors, balconies and bars, and it was packed to the rafters. I didn’t realise what kind of club it was until the lights dimmed and the music stopped. Everyone turned to look at the stage. The curtains came up, and what I saw next left me speechless.
It was some of the most spectacular themed dance show casing I think I will ever see. They would take a film or show, like the Mask or Moulin Rouge, and costumed dancers would flood the stage, spinning and twirling in perfect synchronicity while the stars would re-enact certain scenes. It was phenomenal. And long. I was amazed at how long they kept on going for; they just kept coming out with new outfits, more dazzling than the last. At one point Batman, attached to some kind of cable, came flying over the crowd with his cape billowing out behind him.
Eventually it either ended or we got tired just looking at it. After the third or fourth club, Josh was again speaking to some acquaintance when I quietly slipped off to make my way home. It looked like I was going to have to take a taxi, but I thought I felt nature call and thought it best to respond before getting started on haggling with the drivers. I only had a twenty dollar note on me and I wasn’t sure how far that would get me. Near the main road were a series of closed stalls all bunched together; a small maze of wooden structures. I edged through them to find some place quiet. And this is how I found myself down a dark alley, with two strangers, in Mexico.
Putting it so crudely makes it sound like I was being more careless than I actually was. This was in an area very obviously kept safe for tourists; however, what I hadn’t taken into account, were the people who kept it ‘safe’.
One of the men was wearing some kind of uniform, and my first instinct was to walk right through them. I went to push through but they stood their ground, one nervously pulling out a can of pepper spray. Of course upon this revelation I immediately desisted with this strategy, and froze to the spot. The guards looked almost as perturbed as I felt and I realised that they hadn’t expected me to try to walk off like that. What they had expected was an easy buck, but if there’s one thing that I’m not, it’s an easy buck. After a couple of long, tense seconds, they broke the silence by telling me to relax.
And there was I, thinking I’d been doing rather well in the face of mace and unexpected foreign erections. It took me a little while to figure out what was going on,because when someone is after a bribe, they will rarely just say “I want a bribe”. After talking about a tip and making this go away, I soon got the drift. I wasn’t overly troubled by the notion, but I did have a bit of an issue. All I had was that twenty, and as inexperienced as I was in the ways of The Bribe, I was still fairly sure I couldn’t ask for change.
I was telling them I didn’t have any money and they were telling me that I would be spending the night in a cell. I tried to weigh my options. I had no idea what police stations were like in this country, and spending anytime there might have been a very unpleasant experience. But all that free beer may have clouded my judgement somewhat and all I could think was that I’ve been in a cell before, and it wasn’t so bad, and this place is basically the U.S. on tour so I’m sure I wouldn’t have been the first tourist in the station. Before I’d even finished the train of thought I was telling them to go ahead and call the cops because they weren’t getting anything from me.
Eventually it either ended or we got tired just looking at it. After the third or fourth club, Josh was again speaking to some acquaintance when I quietly slipped off to make my way home. It looked like I was going to have to take a taxi, but I thought I felt nature call and thought it best to respond before getting started on haggling with the drivers. I only had a twenty dollar note on me and I wasn’t sure how far that would get me. Near the main road were a series of closed stalls all bunched together; a small maze of wooden structures. I edged through them to find some place quiet. And this is how I found myself down a dark alley, with two strangers, in Mexico.
Putting it so crudely makes it sound like I was being more careless than I actually was. This was in an area very obviously kept safe for tourists; however, what I hadn’t taken into account, were the people who kept it ‘safe’.
One of the men was wearing some kind of uniform, and my first instinct was to walk right through them. I went to push through but they stood their ground, one nervously pulling out a can of pepper spray. Of course upon this revelation I immediately desisted with this strategy, and froze to the spot. The guards looked almost as perturbed as I felt and I realised that they hadn’t expected me to try to walk off like that. What they had expected was an easy buck, but if there’s one thing that I’m not, it’s an easy buck. After a couple of long, tense seconds, they broke the silence by telling me to relax.
And there was I, thinking I’d been doing rather well in the face of mace and unexpected foreign erections. It took me a little while to figure out what was going on,because when someone is after a bribe, they will rarely just say “I want a bribe”. After talking about a tip and making this go away, I soon got the drift. I wasn’t overly troubled by the notion, but I did have a bit of an issue. All I had was that twenty, and as inexperienced as I was in the ways of The Bribe, I was still fairly sure I couldn’t ask for change.
I was telling them I didn’t have any money and they were telling me that I would be spending the night in a cell. I tried to weigh my options. I had no idea what police stations were like in this country, and spending anytime there might have been a very unpleasant experience. But all that free beer may have clouded my judgement somewhat and all I could think was that I’ve been in a cell before, and it wasn’t so bad, and this place is basically the U.S. on tour so I’m sure I wouldn’t have been the first tourist in the station. Before I’d even finished the train of thought I was telling them to go ahead and call the cops because they weren’t getting anything from me.
They umm-ed and aah-ed and eventually one went to get the police. Things seemed pretty straight forward then and I reconciled myself with the unexpected turn my near future had taken. I thought of how I would get back to the hostel the day after and if they would charge me for that night. Whilst we waited I chatted with the other guard a little. He told me he thought I was a crazy man at first and he was glad that I wasn’t. I told him I couldn’t pay because I hadn’t been earning that much working with special needs kids. His face dropped. He told me I should have said sooner but there was nothing he could do now.
Soon after a police car pulled up which looked like it had come from the set of a Robocop film. A fat police man stepped out, waddled over and took me aside. He began the whole routine over again, although I was beginning to see that my position was quite strong, in that he obviously didn’t want to arrest me. At the same time, he was determined to get something from me, so we were in a deadlock. The discussion went round and round, and by the end I was cursing myself for not having just bribed my original assailants, who I had decided I was fond off.
Eventually, I dejectedly handed over the contents of my wallet. Sensing that the fat police man would rip the guards off if he could, I carried through my premature onset of Stockholm syndrome by trying to silently mouth how much I had paid out.
I started on the walk home, and the long road seemed a lot longer by foot. I walked that beach road for hours, occasionally passing a resort or golf club. I felt the vulnerability of being alone an isolated so each time I felt headlights approaching I would dramatically dive for cover into a nearby ditch or pin myself to a tree. I arrived at the hostel exhausted and collapsed fully clothed on the bed.
I awoke to find someone sitting at the end of my bed. “Where did you go man?” Said a voice with an Americanised Mexican accent. “I was worried about you.”
Fuck this, I thought. I'm going to Tulum.
Soon after a police car pulled up which looked like it had come from the set of a Robocop film. A fat police man stepped out, waddled over and took me aside. He began the whole routine over again, although I was beginning to see that my position was quite strong, in that he obviously didn’t want to arrest me. At the same time, he was determined to get something from me, so we were in a deadlock. The discussion went round and round, and by the end I was cursing myself for not having just bribed my original assailants, who I had decided I was fond off.
Eventually, I dejectedly handed over the contents of my wallet. Sensing that the fat police man would rip the guards off if he could, I carried through my premature onset of Stockholm syndrome by trying to silently mouth how much I had paid out.
I started on the walk home, and the long road seemed a lot longer by foot. I walked that beach road for hours, occasionally passing a resort or golf club. I felt the vulnerability of being alone an isolated so each time I felt headlights approaching I would dramatically dive for cover into a nearby ditch or pin myself to a tree. I arrived at the hostel exhausted and collapsed fully clothed on the bed.
~
I awoke to find someone sitting at the end of my bed. “Where did you go man?” Said a voice with an Americanised Mexican accent. “I was worried about you.”
Fuck this, I thought. I'm going to Tulum.