John Carpenter's Escape From The Juarez Bus Depot

"If you can't take a little bloody nose, maybe you ought to go back home and crawl under your bed. It's not safe out here. It's wondrous, with treasures to satiate desires both subtle and gross, but it's not for the timid." - Q, Star Trek: TNG (Ep: Q Who) 

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After a little more than a week of living south of the border I can honestly say that this was indeed the right thing for me to do. While my financial situation has gone downhill much, much faster than anticipated due largely to getting fucked out of an apartment I had lined up in Quintana Roo and the seemingly endless frustrations of the bureaucracy of the Mexican immigration system. The language barrier has honestly been the least of my troubles. Its not that this is my first experience being on the razors edge of success and profound failure.

[[If only I were an entire mariachi band, I'd be living like, well, a mariachi band.]]

That being said I would not trade this particular adventure such as it has been for anything. Standing on the precipice of homelessness in a foreign country should fill me with dread. A sadly familiar sort of dread. Instead I find myself possessed of a kind of hope I have not experienced in a long, long time. The stress, both professional and personal, of the last few years is fading faster than the life expectancy of rodents in my cat Tessa's immediate vicinity. Being born feral and living her first year of life on the street has left her a brutal and efficient little predator. She can, and has, hunted prey more than four times her size. Not that hard since she only weighs 5.1 pounds.

[[Tessa, expertly camouflaged in order to get closer to local rodents.]]

Spending the day in Juarez was nothing like I was told to expect. Crime, violence, mugging, pick pockets, and pushy drug dealers were all anyone talked about. The only time someone has ever attempted to pick my pocket in my life was in Manhattan, NY, and the little bastard thought he was grabbing a leather wallet and not my hand... the look of terror as I squeezed and smiled at him is something I will still be smiling about on my death bed. Instead the only crime I encountered was indifferent bank tellers, and a manager who after about an hour of going through my paperwork informed me that I could only acquire the permit I needed for my car at the border crossing. Not the one my hotel is about a kilometer from, but rather the one I initially tried to cross at in Harlingen, Texas... many miles from Juarez, and still more distance from where I have been based. 

Taking my car there, laden as it is with all my worldly possessions would mean yet another trip across the border into Texas, more examinations by the Border Patrol, all so I can turn around to head back into Mexico and repeat the process before I can park and make another attempt at getting the permit I need. With any luck a bus heads that direction, and tomorrow will bring the final success I need to Escape from Nuevo Progresso (someone call John Carpenter, that feels like a good Kurt Russell film). 

[[A taxi ride out of Juarez, the bus getting there was fine but it would have been hours of waiting at the terminal to get back to NP, so a cab was in order as Uber still refuses to service Juarez.]]

Not that I mind it here in Nuevo Progresso, in truth I have become rather fond of it. Some of the locals even know me by name, offer various pleasantries, and don't say rude things behind my back. Sometimes it pays to not let on how much of the local language you actually speak. I would consider staying here, at least for a few months, but there isn't much work to be had (unless, as mentioned before, I were an entire mariachi band). There are only two clubs in town, one is the previously mentioned strip club, no music venues, and the television and radio stations don't seem to be in need of English speaking engineers.

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This post and its original content copyright James Radcliff, and has been brought to you by Mexico, tequila, and generally poor decision making. If you would like to donate to support this bizarre little travelogue, feel free to do so via Patreon or PayPal. As always, this strange and debaucherous adventure has been brought to your screen by viewers like you. Thank you.

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