With full credit to Drewwho.

I have no idea why I've been so reluctant to set this report down in virtual ink. Perhaps my uncharacteristic reticence is simply due to a largely uneventful visit that suffers greatly in comparison to the previous fuck-fest. Then again the reason may lie somewhat deeper.

If you clicked on this post in anticipation of reading about multi-chica orgiastic fun or wild female ejaculations, I must admit at the outset that you will not find them here - at least not via a first-person report. I enjoyed only one very relaxed, rather milquetoast session with an old amiga that I will relate in due course. While extremely satisfying and exactly what I needed at the time, it did not venture into uncharted sexual territory.

I had not intended to make the journey to Tijuana last weekend, but a post regarding an impromptu gathering of friends, and the desire to visit a favorita her birthday convinced me to attempt something new - the zona on a budget.

The reason I'd never visited the zona on limited funds before had absolutely nothing to do with the possession of vast mongering resources - I've just never been very good at "moderation" in my life. "All or nothing" is probably the most apt description of my behavior, and the idea of going to the zona and having to keep track of every cerveza, every tip and every session just makes me shudder in revulsion. I'd much rather stay at home until I can afford to not worry about every dollar I spend.

Of course much of this has to do with my location. It's 350 miles from my door to the World Parking lot. That translates to 4.5 to 5 hours driving, or about 4 hours by Southwest, with only 1 hour of that in the air. Bags must be packed, pets arranged for, and a hotel reserved. Every trip to the zona is therefore quite a major undertaking, which must have a substantial payoff waiting at the end to serve as justification.

If visiting Adelitas was as simple as hitting Cheetahs or the OG (Olympic Gardens) for the night, I'd be there every time I scrounged enough pennies to afford one cerveza, one chica and 30 min in the Coahuila.

So it was with a combination of trepidation and anticipation that I set out from Sunrise Foothills at 11:00 Saturday morning. I'd prepared my music selection in the parking lot, and the first CD. Everclear, was pounding from the Mach 460 speakers of my black GT. Uncharacteristically, I'd chosen an eclectic nightmare of music - in the hours to come I would be listening to Mozart, Pink Floyd, Supertramp, Ravel, Beck and my official TJ musician, Dave Mathews. I'd also be driving a bit slower than my usual 90 mph plus rate of speed. 80-90 mph was feeling just fine.

The one thing that was exactly the same as it had been on every trip before was how I occupied my mind during what even the most charitable person would describe as one boring fucking drive. - by now I have the mileages from town to town burned into my memory, and even the road signs possess nothing of interest - so instead of enjoying the high desert scenery, I allowed Dave Mathews to act as my Proustian Madeleine, with each song triggering another recollection from my most recent zona adventure. Of course along with the retrospection came a healthy dose of fantasy regarding what might lie in store for me when I arrived.

Unfortunately, the zona cares little for my fantasy life, and consistently conspires to thwart my best attempts at predicting how each act of my zona porn melodrama will play out. When I set my sights on "bowling" my way through as many chicas as possible, I end up with one for the entire weekend. If I dream of dumping a novia, I end up doing multiple threesomes with her and a friend. So I tried not to think of the many ways in which the zona could fuck with me in the two days ahead, and enjoyed the perfect adventures playing out in my head.

Following a short stop for surprisingly cheap (1.35) gas at the Mobil in Victorville I discovered that I was actually driving even slower, and continued to drift closer to the 75-80 mph area the nearer I came to my destination. I told myself at the time that I was just being smart and reducing my chances of receiving an insurance-rate raping speeding ticket, but perhaps my subconscious was controlling my accelerator foot as well.

At around 3:50 pm I pulled into a surprisingly full WP lot, and minutes later I was climbing into a border cab. This brings me to a subject that can be the source of much aggravation, if little actual cost - TJ cab rates. I've discovered that there are three basic approaches to dealing with cabbies. Two of them seem to work equally well, while the third is generally disastrous.

The first and most widely accepted method consists of establishing the rate before you set foot in the cab. While this always works, you may have to try more than one cabbie before you get the rate you want.

The worst method is to jump in the cab, tell him where you want to go by the name of the club/hotel, and then ask "How much?" when you arrive. You may as well bend over and spread them, 'cause you're getting screwed.

The final, and favorite method for me lately is to just jump in the cab, give the exact location via cross-streets, address and the name of the place I'm going, and to do it only in Spanish. At the destination I give the cabby what I know is the correct fare, simply saying "Gracias Amigo" as I exit the cab. I've yet to have a cabbie argue over the amount of the fare when using this method.

Why not just negotiate up front? Well, I seem to always be halfway down the block before I realize that I forgot to set the rate. I've tried to establish a habit of doing both, hoping that I'll remember at least one of them.

Shortly after 4:00 I arrive at the VdeZ and am confronted with the first of many last -minute changes of plan. Thinking that business would be slow and TJ empty, I didn't think it would be necessary to make a reservation, especially since I was arriving relatively early. Of course they were completely booked. Time for Plan B.

Making the best of the situation, I decided to see whether rooms were available at the Coahuila on a weekend, and set off on foot towards the zona, enjoying the opportunity to stretch my legs after 5 hours on my ass, and enjoying the gorgeous weather and even more gorgeous local chicas shopping on Con. If Coahuila shut me out, I figured I'd give Cascadas a chance at redemption.

Surprisingly, Coahuila had rooms available for $35, and I settled into room 101 in a section of the hotel I'd never visited before - I knew I was venturing into "residential" territory when I passed the shrine to the Virgin with candles blazing. I received no key, so I assumed a talachero would let me in when needed. The room was a standard, if perhaps slightly bigger Coahuila room. It did have a phone, which I hadn't noticed in the short-time rooms.

After a quick clean up, I fairly bounded down the steps in anticipation of my first session of the weekend with Rosy. If I'd remembered what I knew about making plans in the zona, my outlook would have been slightly less rosy.

To be continued…

drew

"The final, and favorite method for me lately is to just jump in the cab, give the exact location via cross-streets, address and the name of the place I'm going, and to do it only in Spanish. At the destination I give the cabby what I know is the correct fare, simply saying "Gracias Amigo" as I exit the cab. I've yet to have a cabbie argue over the amount of the fare when using this method.

"Why not just negotiate up front? Well, I seem to always be halfway down the block before I realize that I forgot to set the rate. I've tried to establish a habit of doing both, hoping that I'll remember at least one of them.

I totally agree with all of this, drew. I've taken to not negotiating price and just telling the cabbie where I want to go. About 98% of the time, I just hand him a five-spot when I get out of the cab, and NEVER has any of them given me any trouble.

CHL