Tijuana Strippers, High Speed Car Chases, and My Escape from Gunpoint (BASED ON A TRUE STORY)
Today there’s a great true story guest post from Srinivas Rao who writes for The Skool of Life. He’s here to share the great wisdom he learned on personal development through being held at gunpoint.
I’m not sure why I decided it was time to write this story on my blog. After my conversation with Kelley Diels, I realized that I offer alot of advice on my blog, but I rarely expose you to some of the sordid details of my life. But I felt like it was a story worth sharing because there are days when I still can’t believe that EVERYTHING IN THIS STORY actually happened. To those of you who are part of the story, well, hopefully you have no plans to run for office, since I’m about to put an end to that dream after publishing this post.
It was the Spring of 2000 and I was in my second to last semester in college. Me and my friends had decided that we had to experience an American College Students right of passage: Spring Break. Given that we were all cheap, and didn’t want to spend money, Cancun, Florida, and all of the other popular destinations were not an option. But, one hour south of the San Diego Border, we had an option, Rosarito. I can’t really tell you much about the town of Rosarito, because I honestly don’t remember it. I think somebody once said “Tijuana is not Mexico. It’s like America without laws.” Needless to say we were about to learn that.
A few of our friends had arrived in Rosarito early on Sunday morning, and one of my friends and I drove down together a few hours later. By the time we arrived at hour hotel, our friends had already been drinking all morning. It turned out we couldn’t check into out hotel room until 4pm, so we joined them for some drinks at Papas and Beer.
Before I knew it, it was 4pm, and shortly after checking into our hotel room, everybody in our group except for my friend that I drove with had passed out. After exploring Rosarito for half an hour and concluding that the morning crowd had gone into hibernation to prepare for their evening of inebriation, I came up with the brilliant suggestion of returning to Tijuana to go to a strip club and coming back to Rosarito when the party had picked up. So, off we went on the adventure that would ultimately create this ridiculous story, ALL OF WHICH IS TRUE. After a few hours at the strip club, night had fallen, and we figured it was time to hit the road.
The Car Chase
As we turned the corner on the main drag in Tijuana, a white car pulled up behind us, and I saw a badge stick out the window. My first thought was “oh shi#$, what the hell did I do, I’ve heard horror stories about Tijuana.” My friend who was in the car next to me looked at me and said “Dude, screw this, just go. These guys aren’t real cops, they’re going to carjack you.” It seemed like sound logic, so I did. I stepped on the gas and tried to peel out of their like a bat out of hell. With that we were off on a high speed car chase through the streets of Tijuana.
If Tijuana is like America without laws, the streets of Tijuana are like roads without traffic signs. While people do follow traffic laws, get away from the main drag and you are sent into a labrynth from which there seems to be exit. As we drove off into the night, this white car seemed to be on our tail, intent to catch us. Finally in a moment where we thought we lost the chasers, we pulled into an ally and next thing we knew the white car flashed its brights and our chase started again.
This time we really had no idea what to do. Our only thought was just drive. In the process of the carchase I knocked over one of those orange oil barrels, and in moments even felt like I was filming a sequence from an action movie. Finally was I drove down this hill I turned to my friend and said “Make a call, left or right, what’s it gonna be.” We turned left into a dead end ally and immediately got out of the car and found ourselves with our hands in the air and guns pointed at us. YES, THIS IS ALL TRUE.
In the next few minutes, I learned that my friend was actually fluent in Spanish, and he carried on an in-depth negotiation with the so-called police. When we offered the 43 dollars that we had, they laughed at us and told us that we were going to Mexican Jail. Finally, in a moment of desperation, we offered our clothes and they laughed at us and told us we were pathetic, and that we should just go. We hugged each other and to this day I still can’t believe this is real.
Personal Development Lesson: Don’t act like a JACKASS just because you are in a foreign country.