My Tiajuana Adventure, by Jeff (No Longer) the Virgin

My Tiajuana Adventure

by Jeff(‘s no longer) the Virgin

    Here’s a little recap of the events leading up to the big moment…

So it's been just about a month since the Booty Cruise III fiasco...

    Well, word had gotten 'round through my small network of friends and family about the shenanigans that ensued in Long Beach on that fateful Friday the 13th, and my friend (who shall remain nameless, lest his girlfriend finds out about this) had decided to take it upon himself to help 'save Jeff the Virgin!'    

    He had already planned to drive down from San Francisco to go see Rock the Bells with me, when he called me about a week before, saying “Jeff, I’m taking you to TJ (as in Tiajuana!) after we see Rage!”   He had vowed to get me LAID!  I'm was totally stoked, but my only question was:  "WHY THE HELL WE DIDN'T TAKE THIS TRIP" -- oh I don't know -- "LIKE OUR FRESHMAN YEAR IN COLLEGE???  WTF, MAN?!?"

So it's official, Bean really does hate me!!!

    Why, I have no clue?  Maybe here's one reason why(?):

    So in the campaign to "save Jeff the Virgin," as I mentioned, one of my old college buddies was coming down from San Fran for the weekend to see Rage @ Rock the Bells with me and had also vowed to help me in my cause.  He said he would take me to TJ after the concert.  He knew of a place down there that he wanted to take me to, uh, get over the first hump (know what I'm sayin'?!).  So I emailed the K&B Crew to let them know the good news, but alas, no reply.

Then this happened:

    On the Friday morning before Rock the Bells, I happened to be available for "What It Do, Nephew?" (I'm usually at work by then!), so I called in to see what they might have to say about it.  I got through and spoke with The King of Mexico, telling him the situation.  So he put me on hold, and while I'm on hold, the show is playing, they are taking calls, and after they finish with a caller, I hear Bean say, "Uhh, by the way, to whoever's answering the phones, you can disconnect line 4, we'll NEVER speak with that person on the air..."

    Well, guess who was on line 4?  You got it, me.  So Dave came back on and told me that he was sorry, and acted like they "couldn't fit-in my call today."  But I called him out, and asked, "Why?"  And he said he didn't know, but it was because of Bean, and I should email Bean directly, because, apparently, he doesn't like me.  WTF????

The Mission Begins

    My friend drove down from San Francisco on Saturday morning.  He got to my place by 2:30pm, and we left for San Bernardino.  We arrived at Rock the Bells around 5:30pm while The Roots were finishing up.  (Unfortunately we missed most of the acts, but fortunately, we also missed the heat!)  Cypress Hill was super irie, and WuTang, while epic, appeared to be one big mess on stage!  The crowd was really growing with anticipation for what all 60,000 people came to see:  RAGE AGAINST THE MACHINE. 

    By the time RATM started playing, the place was a riot, complete w/ several bonfires and pepper spray!  My friend, with the intent of making it both to TJ and back, so that he could drive back up to SF to be at work on Monday, suggested that we start heading towards the car so that we might actually make it out of there alive!  He wanted to stay for ONE Rage song (that’s it!) and then leave, a la Dodger Stadium…

    They opened with “Guerilla Radio,” and when the finished, my friend was like, “Alright Jeff, let’s go!”  We started heading for the exit, but then I started to get cold feet.  I told him that I needed to hear some more Rage first, to pump myself up, and I really wanted to hear them play “Bulls on Parade” and “Killing in the Name.”  A few songs later, during the middle of “No Shelter,” I told him, “Okay, I saw them at Coachella, fuck it!  Let’s go!!!”

    As we walked all the way out my truck, which was parked on the opposite side of the 15, a line of cars was already starting to form down the only road out of the parking lot.  We got to the truck, only to find it boxed-in because of the shitty parking arrangements!  Worst!  After playing “car tetris” for 35 minutes, by then, you could tell the show had ended, as 55,000 people started swarming for their cars!  We finally backed out into the line of cars, to move only about 4 feet in one hour!  What a clusterfuck!

    By midnight, my friend looked at the clock and said, “Jeff, if we’re not out of here by 1am, we’re heading back to L.A. because I have to drive back up to San Fran tomorrow!”

    “Crap,” I thought, “If it doesn’t happen tonight, when is it ever gonna happen???” 

The Breakout

    So as we’re sitting there in this line of cars, we saw one loan truck gradually inch his way towards the hill leading up to the 15 South.  His buddies were outside of the truck, scouting the terrain, and eventually, he went for it!  He made it to the top, waited for his buddies to hop back in, hesitated for fear of that the cops might be lurking, and then gunned it onto the freeway (thank god there was no shoulder divider!).  Everyone around cheered and cars were honking their horns because we were all watching to see if he made it.  A few minutes later, several more people decided to follow his example.

    “Fuck it, we’re going for it!” I declared to my friend.  We jumped out of the line of cars we had been sitting in (parked, actually!) for over an hour.  We hesitated for a moment because then we saw that a Nissan Xterra that had gotten stuck on a burm at the bottom of the hill.  There was another little dirt road leading up to the freeway, but cars were turning around up there too, because another car had gotten stuck in a huge ditch at the end of that road.  So again, it was another clusterfuck.

    Luckily, there was a dude who busted out some of his tools.  (Gotta love that Mexican work ethic!)  He grabbed a shovel and started digging out the tires of the Xterra.  About a dozen-or-so people helped to push the Xterra out, and they made it!  He grabbed his wire cutters and cut down some barbed wire blocking another part of the hill.  We got in line to cross the fence, and my friend yelled “Gun it!” as we plowed over the burm and up the hill!  We raced up to the shoulder, looked out for the CHP and gunned it onto the freeway!  At last, we were on the 15 South, on our way to San Diego at 1 in the morning!

Mission Accomplished!

    We finally parked at the border around 4am.  As we approached the gate, I started to get that nervous feeling again, but once we crossed the threshold, there was no turning back! 

    My friend hailed a cab and we ended up at “The Adelante” club/hotel.  It was not quite what I expected though… I was picturing a brothel, complete with a madam, like something out of Deadwood.  However, it was more like any American club, except for the fact that the women, like vultures, come right up to you and grab your junk! There was definitely no beating around the bush.

    A few of the girls were actually pretty hot and intimidating, but most were just plain nasty!  So again, I started to feel a little nauseous.  But my friend, bless his heart, was like the mama bird pushing the baby bird out of the nest.  After a few Coronas, I started to walk around the bar again, and before I knew it, I was being approached.  By this point, I just went with it.

    I met “Angelina,” and she took me upstairs.  I paid $12 for the room and $100 for the services rendered.  Through broken Spanglish, I told her my virgin status, and she said, “Don’t worry, baby, I take care of you.”  And from there, the rest is history.

    I went back into the bar with a shit-eating grin on my face and walked up to my friend.  I did a little fist-pump of victory, and he cheered!  We then booked it out of there, lest my friend succumb to temptation as well (remember the girlfriend!)  We were out of Mexico by 5am and back in Los Angeles by 7:30am.

And now I know, and knowing is half the battle

    Nothing “magical” happens.  There is no song-and-dance number like at the end of “The 40-Year-Old Virgin.”  I’m still the same person I was before, just with a little bit more ‘experience.’  It was pretty much what I expected it to be like, although it is definitely a lot more fun when there is more than one person involved!

    After the adventure, I had to let someone know… and that someone was Kevin!  I figured I’d tell him, since, after-all, it was the “Kevin & Bean Booty Cruise III” that set this whole chain of events in motion.  I brought some supplies to his charity event at Galpin, and told him the whole story.  He replied simply, “Good, now you know.”

    I also told him about Bean’s hatred and negative response to my attempt to call-in the previous Friday, and he told me not to worry about it, because BEAN HATES EVERYBODY.  Yes, this is true…  That’s why he lives in Seattle.  On an island.  In a clown house.

    I’ve since emailed Ralph, Psycho Mike, The King of Mexico and even the Bean Bot himself to let them know the good news:  I am officially a man now!