We've all heard horror stories of Mexico. Drug cartels, police bribes and coyote kidnappers. A script played out in so many movies and newspaper headlines it's enough to indelibly imprint on the American psyche.
After spending a year traveling there to all the places my mother, and everyone else in my sphere of influence warned me not to go, and living for ten years on both coasts of the country, I can say first-hand, we've got it all wrong about Mexico.
Except for bribe-taking cops which I absolutely love.
Gringos (a person, especially an American, who is not Hispanic or Latino.) are easy targets for Mexican police officers. They seem to smell the fear we carry around with us when thrown into foreign territory, like sharks can smell blood. This fear fades from living there long enough that it's no longer a foreign country.
Still, being white I did get pulled over more times then I can count in the decade I spent there and was written up for exactly zero tickets. That's right, zero. Nada.
Here's how it works. First they will tell you all the bad things you were doing. Speeding, illegal left turn, whatever it is they are accusing you of, or in my case I actually did. Then they will tell you the huge fines you'll have to pay and the hassles of towing your car if you can't pay the fine or removing your license plates so you have to come in to the station.
It's very well scripted and if you know the screenplay and buy your ticket it all works out in the end. After all the dramatic scare tactics and promises of enormous fines it comes down to a hundred pesos to make it all go away. That's about eight bucks and they will take care of everything for you.
Are you kidding? I tip my waiters more than that. Here's ten. Keep the change. Good job officer, thank you very much, have a nice day.
If you look like a scared little minnow with a big credit card, or act rude or play the smart ass in any way, you're fucked and it's going to cost you way more. So be nice. Just keep saying, "How can we solve this problem officer."
The first time I was pulled over in Mexico I grossly over payed the officer five-hundred pesos. (about $40 USD) He was so happy he gave me a phone number to call. "If you ever got pulled over again this month, call this number and there will be no fine.", he said. Cool, a get out of jail free card. Can I get a monthly subscription?
Once I learned that a hundred pesos was enough (really just $8), I did the math and realized renewing my license and registration costs more that getting pulled over twice a month for a year. So I stopped renewing both my license and registration and even then, when I got pulled over the fine would start at $1500 and would settle at $8 and no ticket. Pretty good discount.
There's a book deal worth of funny stories I could tell you about my run-ins with the cops in Mexico but I'm just going to share this one.
My company moved me to Cabo San Lucas to start a new clothing optional resort there. I hired and trained a full staff until a year later, when I returned to Cancun.
I was driving a Jeep Cherokee with everything I owned packed into the back, crossing the ferry from La Paz to Mazatlan and heading North towards Guadalajara.
Planning to spend a few nights in Guadalajara, the second largest city in Mexico and known for it's nightlife and beautiful women, I was looking forward to getting a nice hotel and splurging a little. You can find everything in Guadalajara and it's so fun to say Guadalajara when you're drunk.
About an hour away from the city I stopped to dig a CD out from the back of my jeep and while I was fumbling around I found a baggie of weed. Holy shit! I had no idea that was in my car all this time. In fact, I made a point of double checking to make sure the car was clean before driving across the country, but there it was.
Hmm, what should I do?
I was in the middle of nowhere on a deserted highway. I popped the Snoop Dogg CD in and twisted a joint, figuring I'd smoke it and throw the rest away before getting close to the city.
Half way through the joint I saw the red and blue lights in my rear view mirror. Fuck. He pulled up behind me faster than a race horse and his lights blinked like a slot machine hitting the jackpot.
My car looked like Cheech and Chong were sitting shotgun. And these were Federal cops. Federal cops are like our State Troopers and everyone in Mexico warned me they can't be bribed.
What? A cop in Mexico that can't be bribed is like a hooker that doesn't want your money. I've never been pulled over by a "Federale" before. This is going to be interesting. What's going to happen?
Maybe I'd finally have the time to write that book everyone keeps telling me I should write.
The decision was made. There's no point in trying to hide the forest fire burning in my Jeep. It was so smokey and I was so high I imagined for a minute that he was Smokey The Bear and was going to extinguish the fire with his extinguisher and send me on my way with a warning. "Only you can prevent forest fires"
Pulling over I hit the joint one more time and watched him get out of his car like a bad cop in a B-movie. Fuck it, if I'm going down, may as well finish this joint. I took a long pull and exhaled and watched him step out of the car wishing I had some popcorn to go with this movie.
He did a John Wayne strut to my window and clouds of smoke swirled around him as I rolled the window down adding to the effect. I swore for a second as the smoke blew in his face, a smile curled from the corners of his mouth. I wasn't sure if it was because of the smell of the smoke or his thoughts of spending the money he was about to shake me down for.
Handing him my expired license, passport and permanent residency card to let him know I wasn't some new kid on the gringo block, I made a feeble attempt to put the joint out, out of respect. We both knew it wouldn't do any good. Instead I just handed him the bag of weed.
In Spanish with a thick accent he said. "Big, big problem Senior. We are going to impound your car. There are going to be big fines to pay. Then, we are going to deport you and turn you over to the U.S. authorities."
He was tapping the roof of my car, paused and looked at me like I was forgetting my lines. I took another drag of the joint trying not to blow it in his face and said, "How do we solve this big problem Senior?" Without missing a beat he said, "What do you think is reasonable?"
I wanted to give him an Oscar right there if I could. He had obviously rehearsed and knew his part well. I liked where this script was going.
"Two hundred.", I said, before he had a chance to change his mind. "Five hundred.", he countered. "Done.", I said.
Normally I would negotiate longer, but 500 pesos (about $40) is a pretty good deal for getting pulled over with an expired license and registration while speeding and possessing marijuana. Bargain price. I'll take it.
He hands me the ticket book which I've learned is not for writing tickets, but for hiding the bribe in. Kind of like those fake leather check books they hand you at restaurants when you get the bill.
Note: a bribe in Mexico is called a mordida which literally translate to a bite.
I slip in the money and as I'm handing it to him he drops the bag of weed in my lap. "Have a nice day he says.", and walks back to his car. Cool, I felt like I should have tipped him for good service. The whole ordeal too ten minutes tops.
I watch him get back in his car, sure that any minute now Ashton Kutcher is going to jump out from behind a cactus and tell me I've been 'Punked'.
Finally I put the joint out, really craving some popcorn now, as a new scene unfolds in my rear view mirror. His partner who was sitting in the car this whole time is laying into him. They're screaming at each other like a married couple when the cop gets back out of his car again and shimmies up to my rolled up window.
Shit! He's going to shake me down for more, I'm thinking.
I roll down my window again and this time, in perfect English he says, pointing to the weed still laying in my lap, "Do you think I could get a little of that back?"
"Dude, take it all.", I tell him. "No. No. Just a little and a couple of those papers.", he said. I split the bag with him, he gets back in his car, kisses and makes up with his wife and drives off into the sunset.
Cut. It's a wrap.
I'm sure if this would have happened in the U.S. it would not have ended well. Totally different movie. In that moment, as I sat in my car watching them drive into the horizon, all I could think of was; Viva Mexico!
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