And so it was... two short months after last visiting Tijuana, I found myself once again in a position to sample the carnal pleasures that TJ has to offer. God, it's great to be in relatively close geographic proximity. Making these quick, two-day visits every couple of months should be no problem at all for me, at least in the short term.

This particular trip was originally supposed to take place in early June; however, it got moved up at the last minute. My good friend Billfromreading had initially planned to be in TJ at the same time, but his work-related travel plans fell through and he was unable to make it. That's right, TJ denizens... you don't know how close you came to having both Bill and I in town simultaneously. There would have been enough tales of romance-driven angst to fill the entire city. And we would have been able to prove, once and for all, that we are NOT the same person.

Not long after Bill's plans got unfortunately scrapped, I stumbled onto a cheap airfare to San Diego for the fourth weekend in May, and the stage was set. I had some unfinished business to tend to from my last trip. But don't we always leave unfinished business behind when we bid adios to Tijuana? I unfailingly do. But if there's one thing I've learned, over and over, it's that you shouldn't have a set agenda when you hit TJ. Just go with the flow. This trip would prove to be very different from any I've experienced so far. And yet, it was strangely fulfilling.

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This is the day of the expanding man
That shape is my shade
There where I used to stand
It seems like only yesterday
I gazed through the glass
At ramblers, wild gamblers
That's all in the past
You call me a fool
You say it's a crazy scheme
This one's for real
I already bought the dream
So useless to ask me why
Throw a kiss and say goodbye
I'll make it this time
I'm ready to cross that fine line...

-"Deacon Blues", Steely Dan

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It was around 12:30 that Sunday afternoon when I walked out through the large entrance to the Mexicoach terminal onto Revo. As always, I was greeted by the omnipresent photographer. And of course, he wanted me to pose with that striped donkey. I don't know if that's the same donkey every day, or if they have a few of them. But the poor thing has been tamed and domesticated to the point of torpor. It makes Eeyore look like Speedy Gonzalez. I kept walking right on by, travel bag over my shoulder, southbound on Revo, in the direction of the hotel.

I'd gotten up at 4am to catch my flight. Way too early, but it's worth it. I'd landed in San Diego at about 9, after one layover, and leisurely made my way southward via bus, trolley, and then bus again, across the border. No need to hurry, for I remembered my last visit, when I was unable to check into my room at the Villa de Zaragoza until 3pm. I fully expected the same to happen this time, and planned to leave my duffel bag in the hotel office while I split for the Zona for a couple of hours.

But, lo and behold... my room was ready when I got there. It was about 12:45... an unexpected bonus. Luis, the guy at the front desk, actually appeared to remember me. He handed me my key, and I was all set. No problem. Room 220, up on the second floor... perfect.

A quick shower and change of clothes, and I was ready to go. I headed outside, and locked the door behind me, Zona-bound.

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Da-dum, da-dum, da-dum, da-dum, da-dum...

-Theme song from the movie "Jaws"

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"How long will you be here?" Angela asked me in her high-pitched, slightly squeaky voice. Sitting next to me in the booth, she squeezed each of my fingers, cracking each knuckle as she went.

"Just till tomorrow afternoon," I replied, sighing contentedly as she massaged the palm of my hand, my wrist and then my forearm. "I have to work the next day."

This is getting to be routine. Every time I go to TJ, I wind up making my initial visit to Adelitas during the afternoon. Within a few minutes, Angela finds me. I buy her a drink or two, since I truly enjoy her company, but I always rebuff her efforts to get me upstairs.

But this time... it wasn't like that. I didn't get the hard sell to head up to the room... she was content to sit and chat. I think Angela finally has me sized up. She knows I'm good for a couple of fichas. But anything beyond that... no. Mostly, it's because my favorita is one of her best friends, and she's well aware of that fact.

Still, that didn't stop her from reaching into my nether regions. She found a level of arousal that she hadn't detected on my prior visits. Her affectionate attention to my hands and arms was having an effect on me.

She smiled that endearing crooked-tooth smile of hers, but still made no overtures about going upstairs. We made a little more small talk, then a mesero came by and pointed at her empty glass. Angela looked at me. "One more?" she asked.

I demurred, saying I needed to step out of AB for a bit, and would be back later. "Later, then," Angela smiled, and slinked off.

I believe I said in my last report that Angela would never be successful in dragging me upstairs. I may have to revise that statement; she was looking quite appealing that afternoon. But I remembered my previous trip, when I used up practically all of my funds far earlier than I wanted to. Though I was in much better shape budget-wise this time around, I wanted to save my bullets for later.

Before I could make it out through the curtains, a slender blonde with a nice body, pretty hair, but an average face accosted me. She introduced herself as Marisela. She began rubbing her breasts against my arm, and asked if I'd buy her a drink.

No go; I wanted to head back to the hotel and rest up for a little while. After all, I'd been up since 4:00 in the morning. I told her, "I'll be back later." I assumed she'd be gone by then, but you'd think I'd have learned by now... unless you really are interested in a chica, a definite "no" is the proper answer in that situation.

I started back toward the VZ, planning to get 30 minutes of shuteye.

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I rolled over in the bed, looked at my watch, and then sprang up in momentary panic. It was almost 7:00. That 30-minute nap had lasted four hours.

There are few sensations that are worse than waking up suddenly from a nap that has lasted longer than it should have. I had to jump in the shower to partially clear the cobwebs out of my brain. But I collected my faculties and was back out the door a few minutes later.

Dusk was approaching, and the all-too-familiar anticipation was growing. I'm always saying that the best way to do TJ is without a game plan, but I had one for tonight. First, of course, was "Elisa", my fave, always number one on my list. I'd had to cut short the time I'd spent with her on my last visit, and I hadn't been able to go upstairs with her at all. I felt I owed her. Then, there was "Andrea", the chica who'd unexpectedly given me the all-time best single session in my Zona Norte lifetime. Both are night shift AB ladies. I hoped I'd run into each at different times that evening. If one was there and not the other, that would be all right, too. But if both were present at the same time... well, I thought that could get dicey.

I stopped at Maria Candelaria on Revo near 3rd Street to grab some grub. I used to frequent this place. They've changed the menu, but the food is delicious. I especially like the chicken tacos. While I was eating, some wandering minstrel type strolled into the restaurant. In the aisle next to me, he began playing this acoustic guitar that was badly in need of tuning. He started crooning in Spanish; his vocal quality was decidedly below karaoke level. I gave him a dollar to go away, hoping he'd go try out for "Mexican Idol".

I paid up at the register, and headed back off into the belly of the beast.

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My back to the wall
A victim of laughing chance
This is for me
The essence of true romance
Sharing the things we know and love
With those of my kind
Libations, sensations
That stagger the mind
I crawl like a viper
Through these suburban streets
Make love to these women
Languid and bittersweet
I'll rise when the sun goes down
Cover every game in town
A world of my own
I'll make it my home sweet home...

-"Deacon Blues", Steely Dan

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At the head of the alley on Constitucion, I made a left turn. I always try to take a leisurely stroll through the alley once or twice a trip. It's definitely unlike any place I've ever been in my entire lifetime.

Walking back eastbound in the middle of the street, I noticed that there was a string of street girls leading away from the entrance to Cascadas on the north side of the alley. Just for fun, I moved over onto the sidewalk and ran the gauntlet. I was greeted with "Pssst" several times, along with a few hands brushing against my arm as I walked past.

Street girls, to me, are an odd lot. I've seen quite a few that are definite cuties. But in my interactions with chicas, I like to find some degree of personal connection along with the illusion of romance. I know that you generally don't get anything approaching that with the vast majority of SG's. If I ever decide to dip into the street girl pool, I'll only do it upon the recommendation of a particular girl by a friend or respected board member. It just seems like too much of a crapshoot otherwise.

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An hour later, I was in full search mode in a fairly crowded AB, sitting at the upper bar. I had seen no sign of Andrea; it was still perhaps a little early for Elisa. I was stuck in a quandary we all face in this hobby at one time or another... wait for the sure thing, or strike out in search of something new? And my visual sweep of the bar had turned up several potentially appealing targets.

I've been known to just sit and wait for two or three hours before starting to pursue a chica. The hunt is part of the fun. And many times, what ends up happening is that I fall prey to an aggressive chica who simply blind-sides me.

Suddenly, I became aware of one girl who looked more interesting the rest. She was standing near the entrance to the men's room, and appeared to be chatting with some guy. Her attire was a real eye-catcher: a skimpy black two-piece number that was really just a bikini, revealing a lot of cream-colored skin on her petite, no-more-than-five-foot frame. Long, wavy blonde hair cascaded from underneath a large black newsboy cap. I could tell just from her interaction with the guy that she had an outgoing personality. I look for an aura when scoping out targets, and this girl had it in spades.

She finally broke away from the guy, and came over in my direction. She saw me checking her out, stared at me intently with come-fuck-me eyes, and began to sway her hips as she walked. She then made a hard right turn, away from me, and sashayed up behind the bar. I watched, spellbound, as she slid into a booth with yet another guy and snuggled up with him. They would stay there for the next 45 minutes, at times making out heavily, before going upstairs.

I made a mental note to keep an eye out for that girl later on.

I continued to just sit, watch and wait. Hard to believe, but I'd been in TJ for several hours now and hadn't even made a move toward actually getting laid. I had wanted to save my bullets, but this was getting ridiculous.

Something off to my right, out of the corner of my eye, looked familiar. There were three chicas chattering and giggling. One in particular, I knew I had seen before. And I was quickly able to assign a name to her: Veronica.

I was surprised to see her. She looked exactly as I remembered... a short, attractive thing with pretty long dark brown hair. Bangs framed a cute baby face with a flawless fair complexion. She's not much more than five feet tall. She kind of reminds me of a younger version of Elisa, with her bubbly personality. I'd done a session with Veronica about three years ago, and had never seen her again after that particular day. The session would have been a pretty good one... but she ruined it by demanding twenty bucks extra in the room for oral sex. I refused, and never got the BJ. I had liked everything else about her, but there's just no forgetting something like that.

Or so I thought. Veronica saw me looking at her, quickly ditched her amigas and came over and threw her arms around me. Incredibly, she remembered me after a single forgettable session three years in the past. I was thoroughly impressed. She pushed her entire body against me, with her soft cheek flush against mine. Then she pulled away and kissed me, hard, on the lips. Wow. I recalled her being affectionate, but this was rather amazing.

"It's been long time," she said in broken English, which was still an improvement from before.

"Three years," I said. "Tres anos."

She kissed me again. A liplock of moderate length resulted, with a hint of a little tongue action. Her hot little body was pressed against mine, and I knew that regardless of the bad history, we were destined to go upstairs for Round 2. There was no turning back. Veronica slipped her hand into mine, and we headed for the curtains.

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But oh how it feels so real
Lying here with no one near
Only you and you can't hear me
When I say softly, slowly
Hold me closer, tiny dancer
Count the headlights on the highway
Lay me down in sheets of linen
You had a busy day today...

-"Tiny Dancer", Elton John

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Veronica slipped out of her two-piece pants suit. Despite her rather small breasts, her body is absolutely a turn-on for me. "You pay me now, or later," she said, struggling a little with the English. "It's up to you."

I thought about it for just a second, then paid her. If it's my call, which apparently it was, I'd prefer to pay up front and get it out of the way. That way, I've fulfilled my end of the bargain, and the onus is on the chica to deliver hers.

In the back of my mind, I was waiting to hear the BJ upsell. But to my immense relief and surprise, it never came. She put the towel on the bed, and motioned for me to lie on my back. She slapped a rubber on me and got to work. And when you consider her reluctance to go the oral route before, she delivered a pretty damn good BJ... long and enthusiastic. After several minutes, she flipped over and I entered her in missionary. I like this position with Veronica, for some reason, and it allowed for some passionate kissing while we went at it. After what had been basically several hours of nonstop teasing by various chicas down in the bar, I couldn't last long. After I finished, we just cuddled on the bed and smooched a little more. She wanted to extend the session to an hour. Mindful of the fact that I intended to do another session later on, I declined. She started chattering at me, nonstop in Spanish, punctuated with girlish giggles, even though she knew I couldn't understand her. I had to smile, because she did the same thing last time I saw her. She's a very nice girl.

That was a decidedly good session and a great way to get things underway. Even after the first time I went with her, I could tell she had potential. And she lived up to it this time. I'll definitely go for Round 3 with Veronica if the opportunity presents itself. One bad Zona memory, completely erased.

And while I'm here, let me use this space to give a brief plug for Veronica, who seems to be completely unknown online, even though she's apparently been at AB for at least three years. Veronica de Veracruz is cute, friendly, outgoing, affectionate, and a pretty decent lay. She works evenings, although she was working during the day the first time I saw her, and likes to roam around the bar. She told me she was 21 three years ago, so she should be 24 now, although you can usually take what chicas say about their age with a grain of salt. She's short, small-breasted, and her most distinctive feature is probably her long brown hair that she wears with bangs... not many chicas appear to have bangs. And I know for a fact she's still using the name Veronica. The one caution I would give is to make sure you agree with her ahead of time on price and what will transpire in the room.

After bidding Veronica goodbye near the curtains, I went over to the upper bar and sat down for a few minutes. It wasn't long before I caught a glimpse of the aforementioned chica I was drooling over earlier... the one with the bikini and the newsboy cap. And she was coming my way. Damn... just after I had come down from a session. But I decided to lay the groundwork for a future encounter.

She stopped in front of me, and I got a good look at her. She's what I might describe as unconventionally pretty. The more you look at her, the more attractive she appears. She definitely turned my crank.

She slipped her hand into mine. "Why don't you ever go upstairs?" she asked me. Her English is very good.

"I just came down," I replied. I wanted to attach a name to her. "What's your name?"

"Anabel," she replied. "From Monterrey."

"Anabel," I repeated. I vowed to remember that name, not only for this report but so I could check the boards for info on her later.

She looked downward into my crotch. "Save some for me next time, okay?" Then she moved on.

I just have a feeling that if I got together with Anabel, she would totally rock my world. That feeling has been reinforced after reading a few posts about her on the boards. She's now number one on my to-do list.

I got up from my seat, and circled the bar one time. Not seeing Elisa, I split from AB, with the full intention of coming back later.

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I entered Chicago Club for the first time in a couple of years. It was darker than I remembered, and since it was just before 10:00, the place was still filling up. A waiter immediately directed me to a booth near the dance floor. I waited until he brought me my Coke, then I got up and moved to the back, near the ladies' room, where it's quieter and the view is much better.

There are no sharks at CC, so it's a good place to relax by yourself after a session. I stretched out my legs under the table, expecting to enjoy some private quiet time.

Did I say there are no sharks at CC? Jinx!

Before I knew it, the space next to me was occupied by a long-haired blonde thirtysomething chica, with maybe an extra pound or two and an okay face. She introduced herself as Marilu, from Mexico City, and immediately went into her spiel.

"Fucky-sucky," she said in passable English. "I give you massage, and you eat my pussy. We shower together. If you like, we sleep, or watch TV."

Sleeping? Watching TV? During a 30-minute session? But she seemed pretty nice, so I consented to buy her a drink. We chatted for a bit, then I felt something pass right behind my head. A loud crash occurred nearby, and Marilu shrieked. There was broken glass on the floor. Someone had hurled an empty beer bottle, target unknown. Marilu immediately pointed at a chica at a nearby table, identifying her as the perpetrator. "Drunk," she told me. A couple of security guys came and talked to the girl, who was sitting with a guy, but they made no immediate motion to ask her to move or leave.

I could tell Marilu was a little shaken up by the incident, as the bottle had passed close to both of us. She finished her drink, and got up to leave.

How many of you guys have been hit in the head by a beer bottle tossed by a drunken chica? It nearly happened to me. And I wasn't even the intended target.

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Outside, the night air had grown chilly. I headed up Constitucion, wanting to go back to the VZ to wash up and change clothes before hitting AB again. At around 2nd Street, I saw a Taxi Libre parked at the corner. I waved at the driver, and he motioned for me to get in. Great, I thought. I'll just cab it the rest of the way.

There was another passenger in the back seat; I got into the front passenger seat. The driver, a short, mustachioed dude who spoke pretty good English, asked me where I was going. "The Zaragoza Hotel," I told him. The cabbie replied that he'd drop the other passenger off first, then take me to the hotel.

The other passenger's destination turned out to be about four or five blocks west of Constitucion, in a part of TJ I had never visited before. After he got out, the driver asked me again where I was going, and I repeated, "The Zaragoza Hotel." He acted like he had never heard that name before. "Where is it?" he asked.

"Between 7th and 8th Street, one block east of Revolucion," I replied. For the life of me, I couldn't remember the name of the street that the VZ is on... yes, I know now it's Madero. He took off in that general direction.

Well, about fifteen minutes later, we were going in circles. The driver was insisting over and over again that there was no hotel in TJ called the Zaragoza. He recited a list of practically every other hotel in the city. I decided the use the jai-alai place as a reference point, and told him to drop me off there. He said fine, but there were no hotels in that area that he knew of.

Eventually, we were heading westbound on 7th, and I told him to turn left when we reached Madero. Of course, there ahead of us was the hotel, and I told him to stop. I pointed at the sign in front of the hotel. He replied, "Hotel la Villa! That's not Zaragoza." Never mind the fact that the word "Zaragoza" is there on the sign, in admittedly small letters. I suspected I'd been duped, big time.

It got worse before it got better. I had a sinking feeling as I asked him how much I owed him. "Ten dollars," came his reply. "And don't forget my tip."

There was no doubt at this point I was being scammed. I protested, and a mild commotion ensued, which is decidedly against my nature. A nearby security guard came by. He briefly spoke to the cab driver in Spanish, then instructed me to pay him five dollars. Wanting to get out of this situation as quickly as possible, I complied.

After sharing this story earlier on the board, a few "in the know" board members have convinced me that the confusion over the hotel name may well have just been a miscommunication. I assumed that "Zaragoza" would be a sufficient description of the hotel, but I guess not. The ten-dollar quoted fare for a Taxi Libre, however, was outrageous. I guess he sized me up as a dumb gringo, and decided to push the envelope.

And it might have helped if I had asked the driver to turn on the meter. It wasn't running. I'm used to the old yellow cabs, which are more expensive, but meters aren't an issue.

I've never been a big fan of the cabs in TJ, and this experience only increased my disdain for them. Unless personal safety is an issue, I intend to avoid them altogether in the future, and travel around TJ on foot. I've already adopted the Mexicoach bus as my transportation in and out of TJ. Should I need to take a cab back to the VZ again, a fellow board member suggested getting one of the hotel business cards, keeping it in my wallet, and showing it to the driver. This is an excellent suggestion, and I'll do that next time.

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A short while later, I strolled westbound on 7th, away from the hotel. It was about 11:30 by this time. I crossed over Revo, for there was a venue I wanted to check out for the first time. Mexico Lindo... a place I thought I might like, given my general modus operandi in TJ. I entered the bar, and it became quickly apparent I'd chosen the wrong night to visit this establishment.

I liked the general ambience and the soft music. However, the entire place was empty except for two individuals. Both were female, and neither was particularly attractive. I knew I could find better alternatives at AB. Of course, when I entered, the two of them looked at me the way a hungry tiger eyes a slab of raw meat. I looked to the left, looked to the right, smiled at the two ladies and then eased back outside. A visit that had lasted all of thirty seconds.

Like I said, maybe I picked the wrong time. I've heard Mexico Lindo is hit or miss. I'll try again sometime, perhaps on a Saturday night.

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(continued)