My Trip To Mexico

During my daily whorings at Tribalwar I came across this post about a guys trip to Mexico that almost took his life.

I am not sure what it was that intrigued me about it, but I have a feeling it was the eerie detail in which he described everything. I PM'd him to get permission to use this story and I have yet to recieve a response. So I have moved ahead and decided to publish it anyway. If you have a problem with this, e-mail me and we'll work something out.

The story begins with a phone call.

Dylan and I had been hanging out at a coffee shop at around 11 on saturday night when he let slip the fact that he was leaving for Mexico the next morning, and after a couple of quick questions, the phone was ringing at my house. The conversation went something like this:

"Hello?"
"Hey, is mom there?"
"Yeah, let me get her"
". . ."
"Hello?"
"Hey mom, I need two hundred dollars to go to Mexico."
"What?"
"Two hundred dollars. Mexico."
"Oh well, you're in luck. I just happen to have some cash on me. When are you leaving?"
"About fourteen hours."
"How long are you going to be gone?"
"I'm not really sure. A week maybe."
"Ok, well, swing by the house before you go."
"Can do."
"Here, your dad wants to talk to you."
". . ."
"Hello?"
"Hey dad"
"I hear you're going to Mexico."
"Yup."
"Good. I need you to do two things for me."
"Uh, ok."
"Where are you going?"
"San Miguel de Allende."
"Very good. I need you to go to a bookstore and get something for me."
"Uh, ok."
"It's a little complicated, so I'll just write it out for you. Just give the paper to the clerk and they'll get you what I need."
"Ok."
"Also, you must find a building more than fifteen stories tall, and ask if they have a thirteenth floor."
"I can do that."
"Very good. I'll see you tomorrow then."
"Night."

Having been given funding, the ok to leave the country, and two bizarre little quests, I went to bed. The next morning I got up, went to my house, collected my paperwork and cash, got my dads request form, and got in a car heading for Mexico.

The original plan had been to drive all day and stay the night in Saltillo, but being the hyperactive youth that we are, we managed to convince them to continue driving through the night.

The trip was going completely uneventfully, and I was rapidly getting to know the other occupants of the car. There was my esteemed associate Dylan, Jackie, and Lilly. Jackie I had hung out with a few times, but didn't really know, and Lilly I had never met before we got in the car.

I don't know how many of you guys have traveled around in Mexico in the middle of the night with out of country plates, but the federales down there seem to find the very concept of this offensive. The minivan we were caravanning with was pulled over not less than eight times over the course of the night, and never ticketed once. The federales would just swagger up, look around inside the van, say something to the effect of "You seem like a nice family, have a good time in Mexico." and drive off. We decided they were bored and had been talking about us on the radio all night. A rousing game of cross-country "spot the gringos".

I wound up nodding off at around six in the morning, right after we switched drivers. At the time Jackie was driving, with Dylan asleep in passenger. I was behind the drivers seat sort of slumped over on Lilly, who was asleep laying on my lap.

I opened my eyes to find myself laying on a beach, looking up into the face of Lilly. Commenting to myself that my dreams aren't usually so vivid, I patiently waited to wake up (as I tend to do once I realize I'm dreaming). After a few seconds, my other senses began to fade in, and I realized that there were several things wrong with the tropical beach scenario. To begin with, Lilly looked fairly upset, and seemed to be paying particular attention to holding my turban on.

[Wait a second. . . when did I get a turban?]

It then dawned on me that the beach was mighty cold for a tropical paradise, and the sand felt more like jagged rock then coarse grains. About this time I realized I had been shivering pretty hard, and it was getting worse.

"Someone get a blanket on him, he's going into shock"
[Silly voice, why would I be going into shock?]
"And where's the damn ambulance?"
[Ambulance?]

About this time, my scenery changed. Up until this point, my field of view had consisted of the face of Lilly set against a backdrop of rolling storm clouds. And while this was unusual for a tropical beach, I hadn't really noted that fact.

Suddenly a few more faces shoved themselves into my vision, and before I had time to explain that I would really rather they get out of my dream and have Lilly come back, I noticed that these were my fellow passengers, and they were showing no small degree of concern.

[Dylan's lips are moving, why isn't he saying anything?]
[Wait, he is. . . why are we underwater?]
[We aren't underwater.]

As soon as I came to that conclusion, everything around me changed. The gentle crash of surf became the rush of passing cars, the cool breeze became a freezing wind. Gone was the beach. I was laying on the side of a highway, and I was very, very cold.

"Dude, are you still ok?"
"Yeah, I'm fine."
"Ok man, just hang in there. The ambulance is coming."

Then I tried to move my head to look around, and I was again aware of my turban.

[Wait, that's not a turban, that's the sheet you were using when you went to sleep]
[Why is it cold and sticky?]
[Why is it wet?]
"Uhh. . I don't think moving your head is a very good idea dude."
[Why isn't it a good idea?]
[What the hell?]

I had turned my head, and part of it had stayed behind.

"Still with us man?"
"Yeah, what happened?"
"We crashed."
"Oh"
"Yeah, you're pretty fucked up."
"Oh."
"Hang on, the ambulance is coming."
"Ok."

Then I remembered I had been having other dreams. One where we were fishtailing. One where the back windshield exploded and dirt and gravel poured over me like a waterfall. Shreds and fragments with about as much continuity as a dark room with a strobe light.

Eventually the ambulance got there, and I was strapped to a board and hauled off. The whole incident struck me asvery amusing, since everyone I had seen being loaded into ambulances had always seemed to be so very serious about the whole thing. I wanted to stick my tongue out at the camera, but my mouth wouldn't open and there wasn't a camera handy.

We eventually got the the clinic, and it was just as dingy and third world as I imagined it would be. It was a tiny stucco hut. I don't think it had windows. They gave me X-rays and put me on an IV, then proceeded to unwrap my head (which was one of the weirdest experiences of my life) and clean out the wound with what seemed to be a wire brush (one of the more painful experiences of my life).

They gave me a local anesthetic, but it didn't work very well. I remember laying there with detached interest as they fished around inside my head, digging out gravel and bits of automotive glass. I remember when they took something that looked like a fishhook and started sewing my cheek back on

Despite the fact that I must have spent several hours in the clinic, I only have a few distinct memories. I remember taking the X-rays, I remember them pouring bowls of water over my head to try to get some of the mud off. I remember Lilly holding my hand. I remember them trying to put my face back together.

Then Jackie's mom runs in and informs them to stop sewing, we're going to a private hospital.

I couldn't understand what they said exactly, but it was something to the effect of "Oh, ok. That'll be two hundred and fifty pesos then." (about $25)

So we load up into another ambulance (we had to hire this one: $120) and drive about 100km to a private hospital. If the clinic was a shitty third world hut, this place was the polar opposite. It's brand new, state of the art. Everything is spotless, and it seems more like a day spa than a hospital. They hauled me off and had me in a CAT scan before I was even checked in.

There was a lot of wheeling around on a stretcher, and I was moved from bed to table to stretcher again a few times. I don't really remember that much about it. It seems like the next thing I knew, I was talking to my new best friend and soon-to-be surgeon. He explained that while he hadn't had a good look at the wound on account of not wanting to unwrap my head, he was confident that he could do a good repair job.

Eventually, I was wheeled into the operating room, and I met my anesthesiologist. Two things are worth mentioning about this particular experience. The first is that Mexican operating rooms seem a little different than American ones, specifically that everything is off to the sides, the table is sitting in the middle of a HUGE open space. This specifictable was also build like a padded cross. I was strapped down like I was about to be crucified, and spent about five minutes laying there before I struck up a conversation with the anesthesiologist. The second thing worth mentioning was the anesthesiologist himself. He seemed completely out of place in Mexico. He was eastern European, with a strong accent, and he was completely fucking crazy.

"Hello! We stitch you up!"
"Uh. . ok"
"You having GOOD TIME in MEXICO?!"
"I'm about to have surgery because of a car crash, but other than that I'm doing ok"
"VERY GOOD! You like MUSIC?!"
"Uh. . . sure"
(He puts on "The Police - Every breath you take")
"So how you wanna do this?! We can give you GAS, we can give you general, we can do SEDATIVE!"
"Well, I don't really want to go under general, and I used to have asthma, so how about sedative?"
"OK GOODNIGHT!"
"wha~?"

I woke up in the emergency room.

I was kept under observation for one night, and released the next day. My parents called and said something to the effect of "we're going to fly down and come get you", to which I said "Fuck that, I'm still on vacation."

Having set my affairs in order at the hospital, we continued on to San miguel, where we stayed for another two days.

The place we got to stay in was a fucking mansion, three stories tall with roof access on floors two and three. I can't even guess at the square footage, but it was huge. It cost us $500 to rent the place for a week, and that was split between ten people. The first night I wasn't good for anything but laying around in bed, but the next day I got up and we went to the hot springs, and hit a bar that night. Unfortunately we had to return a day early because I needed to get back to the states and get stitches out, but all in all I had a pretty good time (massive facial trauma aside).

I intend to go back next year.

************************************************** *********
Cliff notes: Went to mexico, car crash. got fucked up. See pics.

As far as I know, the crash happened because we were passing a semi, and the girl hit some loose gravel and braked. we started fishtailing and she overcorrected, so we left the road. The median was a ditch, so we went in and flipped over, slid along the ground upside down and backwards for a ways, then hit something else and flipped again. we wound up right side up, facing the wrong way.

This is the car where it landed. Pic is looking north, taken from in the median/ditch where we wound up. you can sort of see our path in the background, we made it 50-60 yards down the median after we left the road

Another shot of the car

Car in junkyard

The indentation/wet spot on the seat is where my head wound up, I was sitting on the left, bent over to the right, and my head was crushed under the roof. if you look closely you can see the dark blood smear on the upper interior edge of the roof

another junkyard shot, note collapsed roof where we flipped onto it

front bumper

Me in the clinic

They put these on me because I was down like 2-3 pints of blood and they were worried about blood pressure, they were REALLY tight.

This is the first my surgeon saw of the wound, my head before and after unwrapping, and my best impersonation of a corpse. (mildly graphic)

This is the second set he took, exploring the wound and showing the nerve that was cut. I have no control over my right eyebrow now. (also graphic)

They actually took the slice in the middle OUT, so I'm light a fair bit of flesh on my right side now. This is after I got back to the states, the day before the facial stitches came out.

And this is where misc. debris fucked up the back of my head