Well, I'm now watching one more TJ visit slowly disappear in the rear view mirror. This one was different from all the others. I saw things from a new perspective. I had always approached TJ with a routine that was starting to border on monotonous. And, with the help of an old friend and some new ones, I was able to expand my comfort zone. As a result, this visit was strangely fulfilling, despite a couple of classic Farsider screw-ups, and a touch of the chica-related angst that no trip of mine would be complete without. But when all was said and done, this was one of my best visits to date.


Back In The High Life Again

I stood in front of the baggage apparatus in the San Diego airport, waiting impatiently for my suitcase to appear. I had wanted to avoid checking in a bag if possible, but it wasn’t to be. I simply had too much stuff to bring. Most of the travelers on my flight had already picked up their bags and left. I wondered if my bag had been shipped to Detroit, or Honolulu, or Bombay, or wherever.

But finally, the suitcase appeared on the rotating carousel. One of the last bags to turn up; just my luck. I grabbed it and headed for a quieter corner of the terminal. Having deliberately left my cell phone at home, I found an unoccupied pay phone, and brought out my phone card. I dialed the cell phone of my long-time amigo, Billfromreading. I fully expected that there would be no answer; no way would the reception extend that far down into Tijuana.

But to my surprise, Bill answered. He was in his room at the Zaragoza, just shooting the breeze with a friend of his, who is not a board member. “Give me two hours to get down there,” I told him.

This trip had its origins a couple of months ago. Since moving back east last March, I knew that the TJ part of my life would be greatly curtailed. Making a trip across the country, solely in search of pleasures of the flesh, is no easy endeavor. I managed to do it a few times, three or four years ago, but things were different then.

As for Bill, the award-winning trip report writer who is well known to long-time participants on these forums, he has moved on to other pursuits in life. His romantic interests now lie in Colombia, and the place has treated him very, very well. His mongering days are now past. But nevertheless, it was he who proposed the joint visit, for he wanted to do TJ one last time. We had talked about hitting TJ together on many an occasion, but never seriously. When Bill brought it up once more earlier this summer, I said no way. But then, I recalled that I had enough frequent flier miles for a free ticket. And at that point, things began to crystallize. I had to pull some strings; but if you want something badly enough, you find a way to make it happen. Before too long, we both had our flight reservations in order.

The southbound trolley was packed on this Friday night. Many of the occupants were young gringos heading out to TJ night spots. There was a group of twentysomethings right across the aisle from me, including three very cute girls, all California blondes. Now, I'm no Mr. Smooth, but even if I was, I'd have kept it in my pants. Give me Latina affection anytime. And I knew that before too long, I'd have some.

Everything went smoothly as I made the trek across the border and hailed a yellow cab. Once off the freeway and onto the side streets, however, the traffic became extremely heavy. I watched with a combination of fear and admiration as the cabbie negotiated a series of deft maneuvers to get us through the logjam. By the time we made the right turn near Costco, we were home free.

I handed the driver a five-dollar bill as I disembarked from the cab in front of the Zaragoza Hotel; he accepted it with no further comment. Struggling with my two bags, I made my way over to Ricardo's Restaurant. There, seated by the window, were Bill and his friend. I rapped on the window to get their attention; they got up and came outside.

"Fancy meeting you here," I said to Bill, who’d arrived in town several hours earlier, and had done me a big favor by reserving a couple of rooms at the Zaragoza for three nights. He introduced me to his friend, who turned out to be excellent company and one hell of a nice guy. We accepted his invitation to go out to dinner; both Bill and I decided that the Zona could wait. Of course, by this time, Bill had already been down to the Zona, and had one session with a Tropical girl under his belt. Me? I was still high and dry. But the lure of good food is almost as strong as the lure of sex. Okay, maybe that’s a slight exaggeration.

I quickly got settled into my room. It was a cool evening, and having left behind the East Coast heat and humidity, I changed into clothes that were more appropriate for the current conditions. I quickly rejoined my two cohorts, and we began to consider dining possibilities. Bill's friend recommended Chan's, a Chinese restaurant over on the other side of town. And since neither Bill nor I had an extensive knowledge of the dining options in TJ, we went along with that recommendation.

We piled into a cab and headed for a part of TJ I had never visited. Yes, there is more to TJ than the Zona and Revo. Of course, I already knew that, but now, I was able to see it with my own eyes.

I had never before consumed Chinese food in Mexico, so I really didn't know what to expect. But all three of us agreed that the food was very good. We ordered some kung pao chicken and orange chicken to divide among us. The chef, who seemed to lack confidence in his orange chicken, suggested that we switch to plum chicken. Well, we didn't want to argue with the guy who prepared the food. The plum chicken was quite tasty. As a bonus, the chef brought out a small plate of orange chicken for us to sample as well. This dish was quite different from what I've eaten in the States, much sweeter and less spicy, but very good anyhow. I'd recommend this place to anyone. It seems like it would be a great place to bring a date, something I'll wager a few of you have tried.

Once our guts were stuffed, we decided to head across the parking lot to Saverio's. We hung out in the bar for over an hour and downed a couple. Okay, for this teetotaler, "a couple" equates to a bottle of water. On a Friday night, the eye candy in this place is incredible. Everywhere I looked, there were nicely-attired Mexicanas strutting about. Some were with dates, and some appeared to be with girlfriends. Before we knew it, it was past midnight.

Bill's friend requested a cab at the front desk. In no time, one pulled up; it was one of those green diamond taxis. During the ride back, I got the first of several reminders that knowledge of Spanish gives you a tremendous leg up when dealing with the locals in TJ, not to mention the chicas and the meseros of the Zona.

Bill and his amigo both speak Spanish far better than I do. Before we had gone too far, they had the cab driver in stitches. With the luck I've had with cabbies in the past, I sure was grateful that they were able to soften him up to the point where he barely noticed when we handed him the fare.

Back at the hotel, Bill and I stepped out of the cab. We bid his friend farewell at that point. As I said before, he was great company. On all previous TJ visits, I'd flown solo, and I was already beginning to get a taste of how much fun it is to cruise through TJ accompanied by amigos.

It was late... but not too late for Bill and I to make a quick bombing run down to the Zona. First, we stopped in to check out one of Bill's favorite hangouts in years past, Mexico Lindo. This bar, by all accounts, is hit or miss. On this night, it was somewhere in between. There were a few ladies in there, none standouts, one of whom Bill remembered as an acquaintance of his. There were a few more males than females. We decided that there was nothing worth sticking around for, and moved onward.

In the Zona, it seems as though my compass is always oriented toward Adelitas. That's where I wanted to go, and I think Bill knew better than to try and stop me.

AB on a Friday night. Hot. Stuffed with humanity. Penis-vagina ratio of about five to one. Is it ever any different? And the construction in the back has made the place even smaller. The ambience has suffered due to the reduced lighting. Still, I had to make my rounds.

I led the way, running interference through the crowd while Bill tagged along. I didn't see a woman whom I recognized. That would include "Elisa", the centerpiece of so many past trip reports of mine, who was always number one on my radar screen at AB during the late evening hours.

I'll end the suspense right now. There would be no "Elisa" on this TJ visit. She travels back to her hometown a few times a year for a vacation, and that's exactly where she was on this particular weekend. Her amiga Angela would later confirm this.

But like I said before, this visit was different in many ways. And one of the many valuable things I learned this time around was that Elisa's presence is not a requirement for my having a great time in TJ.

After pushing and shoving my way through a couple of laps around the modified interior of Adelitas, I said to Bill, "No mas." Any sessions could wait till tomorrow. I was beat, and I decided to save my bullets. We headed back, on foot, to the hotel and our respective rooms. After the six-hour flight, the two-hour overland trek into TJ, the large meal, and the walk to and from the Zona, I was dead to the world five minutes after entering my room.


It’s A Beautiful Morning

Both Bill and I were up before ten o'clock the next morning. We had errands to run which required us to cross back over the border. Despite the slight chill of the previous evening, the morning sun was out in full force. The taxi dropped us off at the top of the pedestrian lane, and we were through customs in less then five minutes.

With our personal stuff all taken care of, we decided to make the return trip into TJ on foot. This was something I'd only done once before, and it was a few years back. It might be just my imagination, but it seems to me that like many other parts of TJ, the inbound pedestrian route has been recently spiffed up, all the way in to the arch at the head of Revolucion. The entire length, once you get through the shopping center, is now lined with vendors (okay, that's not a good thing). The whole route just seems cleaner and more eye-appealing. And what's with those painted multicolor checker patterns on the surface of the walkway over the river, each block containing someone's name? The names are predominantly female, and Bill cracked that they must be the working monikers of various Zona chicas.

Finally, we found ourselves on Revo, and Bill was begging for mercy. It was nearing noontime, and he'd had no breakfast. We came up on a fairly new taco place near the intersection with 3rd Street; I believe it's called Tres Panchos. I ate there the last time I was in TJ, back in January. Drawing on my experience, we decided to have lunch there.

What's interesting about this place is that despite its location in the heart of the tourist district, its patrons are practically all locals. That's a sign that the food is more authentically Mexican than you’d find at the average tourist trap. The tacos I ordered were good, but had a little too much guacamole for my taste. Bill feasted on a quesadilla, and gave his enhanced Spanish skills a workout by attempting to charm the waitress.


Judy In Disguise (With Glasses)

Our appetites for food sated, we then decided to head over to Adelitas to work on taking care of another basic human craving. As soon as we entered the bar, I said to Bill, "Now this is more like it."

Inside there was an abundance of space, blessed space, space to move around. And there was enough of a female presence, and enough of a dearth of men, to allow the hunting to commence. Let the games begin.

We found an empty table up behind Hottie Central, near the TV. Both of us began to scope out our surroundings. Perched directly in front of us were a fairly tall blonde in a tight blue and white dress, and a smaller brunette. I immediately dismissed the blonde who just gave off bad vibes, and mentioned that to Bill. But the brunette looked intriguing.

However, it was the blonde who first noticed that she was being checked out, and came over and sat beside me. She introduced herself as Claudia. Right away, she asked me to buy her a drink; I declined politely. She got up and reassumed her position. Soon, a guy showed up and whisked her away. About twenty minutes later, Claudia was back down in the bar. “That was quick,” Bill commented.

The brunette, likewise, didn’t remain there for long, as another monger seized her before either of us could think of moving in. But that was okay. I’ve been known to hang out for hours before deciding on a target, and waiting till the vibe is just right often pays big dividends.

Before too long, Bill pointed out a girl way over on the other side of the bar. “That looks like Evelyn,” he said.

I squinted to get a better look. She did have Evelyn’s trademark glasses. But I’ve never before seen Evelyn working at 1:00 in the afternoon. “I don’t think it’s her,” I replied. “She’s too short.”

This was soon verified as the girl in question made her way over to a booth on our side of the bar, and plopped herself down. There was, indeed, a new bespectacled girl at AB. Interesting.

More time went by; both of us were getting restless. Bill announced that he was going into full hunting mode. And then, a familiar form materialized just a few feet from us, decked out in her trademark floral print sundress. It was Candi, just beginning her shift, and the instant Bill laid eyes on her, he laughed at the perfect timing.

Bill has a long history with Candi. She was a major player in his watershed TJ visit a few years back, the one that was the focus of his award-winning trip report, “What A Long Strange Trip It’s Been”. (If you haven’t read that one yet, it’s a must-read for all.) Candi turned around at the sound of Bill’s laugh. She squealed in recognition, came over to our table and slid in next to Bill.

As for me, I’ve never had the pleasure of Candi’s company (something I’ll discuss at length later on), aside from one brief conversation, and saying hello on a couple of others. Still, she recognized me, and offered me a warm handshake. I was quite impressed.

And so, the body count was about to become Bill 2, Farsider 0. That situation needed to be rectified. But at Adelitas, things sometimes have a way of working themselves out.

Not long after Candi joined us, a petite newcomer turned our little group into a foursome, sliding in alongside me. I looked over to see who she was. It was none other than the girl we’d been checking out earlier, the one with glasses. Close up, she looked quite appealing. She was short and small-breasted, with dark brown hair. Height-wise, she didn’t get much up above five feet, if that. She had a lovely, caramel-colored complexion that the glasses seemed to detract from. I hoped that I would see her without those glasses later.

She told me her name. “Yuri,” she said. It came out sounding like “Judy”, but she spelled it out for me. “From Monterrey,” she added. It quickly became apparent that Yuri’s English skills consisted of nothing but a few stock phrases. Here, again, was a situation where a little Spanish knowledge on my part would have come in handy, but we managed to communicate the best we could.

Bill and Candi got up to leave, heading on upstairs. I agreed to meet Bill over at Tropical at 3:00, which was almost two hours later. “Hmm,” I thought. “That devil must have one hell of a session in mind.”

Left to our own concerns, Yuri and I resumed the process of getting acquainted. Extensive verbal interaction was out of the question, so she gave me a kiss on the mouth. And another. And another, accenting each with a “mwah” sound. I quickly learned that this was a favorite activity of hers. Yuri loves to kiss, albeit with her mouth firmly closed. But I’m a sucker for the sweet, affectionate types, and in that regard, I’d hit the jackpot.

Yuri sat with me for a while, slowly nursing a drink, alternately looking up at me at smiling, and laying her head against my arm. There was no rush. She never mentioned going upstairs; it was me who made that motion.

Coming up the stairs with Yuri, I was surprised to see a familiar face heading in the opposite direction: my longtime amiga, Veronica de Veracruz. She didn’t appear to notice me; if she did, she concealed it. At the check-in desk, Yuri requested a bed sheet. Funny how you sometimes have to pay extra for things like that, but if the girl asks for it, it’s free. Upon entering the room, she closed the door and shut the blinds. Next, she placed the sheet over the bed, carefully making sure it was aligned correctly. I played the gentleman and gave her a hand. When it was in place, she smiled at me, and headed into the bathroom, closing the door. I quickly got out of my clothes.

The door opened, and there she was, naked. Her boobs were very small (“chichitas”, she called them), but otherwise, her body had a nice shape. Then she took off the glasses, and in that instant, her appearance went from bookish to sultry. The transformation was amazing, and her timing was perfect.

I soon found myself spread out on the bed, the sheet behind my back, with Yuri delivering a pretty decent covered BJ. Now, I’d had a long period of abstinence up till then. There was no way that I’d be able to hold out for very long. Yuri seemed to sense this. She got up on top of me and rode me, cowgirl style, for a bit, flopped on her back for some missionary, and then rolled over for some doggy-style. As so often happens for me, in doggy position is where I finished.

She rolled over next to me, and we attempted to engage in some conversation. It was difficult, but we had somewhat more success upstairs in a quiet room. I really would have liked to chat her up a little more, because in addition to the language barrier, she is somewhat reserved and quiet. But she is a very sweet girl, and was probably the perfect partner for taking the edge off.

Then, I got another surprise. Spontaneously, she rose up and resumed working on me orally. Trying to raise the dead, I presumed. But I started to get hard again. And as she continued sucking on me, I got harder. For me, that’s quite a feat. And I nearly went over the precipice again… but not quite. Still, it was a heroic effort on her part.

Amazingly, there was no knock on the door, and we were in the room for slightly over thirty minutes. Money had never been discussed; I left the payment on the shelf near the door, she took it, and that was that. Yuri was dressed and ready to go before I was, but she hung around and waited around till I could get myself decent. She walked back down the stairs with me, hand in hand, something I really appreciate. Any chica that does this scores major points with me.

We entered the bar, and still, she made no effort to head off on her own. She sat down in a booth with me, wrapped her arms around me and gave me a kiss. Wow. This was exceptional. I don’t believe I’ve ever had a chica who wanted to hang around in the bar after a session, without my asking.

She got two more fichas from me as a reward. Finally, I had to split, because I wanted to make a run back to the hotel before meeting Bill at 3:00. “Mañana,” I said. “I’ll see you then.”

“Si,” she smiled, before mustering up just a bit of English. “I expect you.” I gave her a hug and got up to leave. This was a top-notch session, even a memorable one.

As I circled around toward the exit, there was Veronica, sitting in a booth. She was talking to a guy, but they were seated opposite each other, not side by side. Still, it’s not my style to move in on someone else’s action. I merely caught her eye and smiled as I passed by. She responded by standing up and waving furiously. Hmm, interesting, I thought. I filed that away in my memory bank as I left the bar.

I took a good brisk walk back to my room, working off that burst of energy I always experience following sex, and changed clothes. I hit the Internet café for a few, and then set out for Tropical, a place I had scarcely ever set foot in.