Don't Let the Banditos Get Ya!!

Well guys Debbie won, as wives often do, and here I am doing what I refused to do in high school,that is sitting in front of a keyboard trying to peck out a few lines.

You would think after 23 years as a cop and the number of reports produced I would have learned how to type, I found it easier to hand write all reports and then con or bribe Debbie or one of the secretaries to do in ten minutes what it would take me hours to do.

Here goes... I keep thinking of old dogs and new tricks.

I don't really understand why but people often treat me like a tour guide, it could be that I had to at least appear to look like I knew what I was doing and where I was going. I have traveled a few roads most people will never see. A couple of times I thought that I had crossed over the line and may not make it back to the safe side.

The one that I often think of, is a few years ago I took four or five trips to a little village in the real out back of Mexico. This little place was near the small town of La Junta it was where the pavement ended on the north side of Copper Canyon.

The place had about 10 to15 adobe houses, one house had part of the front room made into a little store. My pantry right now has more supplies than this little front room had maybe even double the amount.

The reason for going to this little Pueblo was two fold,a witness named Ruban Rodrigus lived there, Ruban had helped his employer steal cattle that is a whole new story that would require pages and my limited typing will stick to the banditos and almost going too far over the line.

On one of these many trips I drove to El Paso, Texas and took the train to Chihuahua city. From there I planned to get the train that goes through La Junta and on through Copper Canyon an ends up going on down the coast west of the Sierra Madres Mountains, which run down the center of Mexico, like The Rockies do in the USA .

Well this ole country boy made a few miscalculations. A couple were just things I can look back on and smile one I thought may cost me my life .

I got on the train at Jurez, Mexico I did' know why there was such a long line 2 hours before the train was to leave. This line was just to buy your ticket, about 30 minutes before the train was scheduled to leave they opened the ticket booth as soon as people got their ticket they hurried to the gate where they boarded the train.

I saw no need to get in any hurry the train wasn't even backed in to load,When the gates opened it was sight like this country boy had never seen, it was like dirt dam broke and flood of brown humanity flooded toward the train. The smaller people were being boosted through the train car windows, the old and crippled were pushed and left behind. It was truly every man for himself, and the devil take the hind most part.

When this ole dumb gringo finally attempted to board the car, I suddenly understood why all the rush. I have ridden a lot of crowded buses and trains but this was the winner by a whole mile. There wasn't even a square foot to stand. I got lucky and someone found a better place and I was able to squeeze between two seats that were back to back.

This has been a few years ago but I well recall thinking, how many hours will we be standing like this and what happens when someone has to pee, especially if that person is me.

By the time we spent a few hours on the train, the train began to look and smell like a refugee train from Bangladesh. Men women, children, people of all ages were sprawled on, over and around each other. There was no silly pride here, these people were exhausted and they began to melt like ice cream.

In thinking back I think the train ride was around 5 hours. After leaving this train, my plan was to catch the train that went west over the Sierra Madres and get off at the closest town to my desitnation pueblo, and take a local bus or taxi into the pueblo.

This is where a person should never assume anything about a place he has never been. I also assumed that I would be able to wait in the train station for the next train west, and the worst assumption was that the train west left from the same station. All three of these assumptions were totally wrong, nearly dead wrong.

The train I was on arrived some where around 10 PM, I immediately went looking for a ticket booth to find the information on the train west. The train I was on, was going on south to Mexico City. After some broken Spanish communication with a taxi driver, I learned that the train West didn't come to this station, and the other station was on the other side of town. The taxi driver also told me that the other train didn't leave until tomorrow.

He did offer to drive me to La Junta, I may be a dumb country boy but I didn't fall for this one. I knew that it was somewhere around 100 miles to the place I was going. I also knew I had no business, somewhere in the wilds of Mexico, with some taxi driver (who are known for being less than honest).

I also felt the guy was trying to see if I had any money. I insisted that he take me to the other station where I planned to wait for the next train. Again, I made a couple of wrong assumptions. We arrived at the station as the train from the west was unloading, but was not leaving until morning to make the return to La Junta and Copper Canyon.

This was a small dark station on the bad side of town , shortly after the train unloaded, they locked the doors, and there I was, Mr. Smart Gringo, somewhere on the bad side of a city known as one of the worst cities in Mexico.

It was getting close to midnight, I was tired and just wanted a safe place to rest. At the train stations in Mexico there always more taxis than fares. The taxi drivers left were hungry, they weren't the most prosperous . I have seen a lot of Mexico taxi drivers, but this was a pretty rough looking bunch. They were all literally looking at this dumb Gringo, for ther next tank of gas and maybe a few tacos, and if they were really lucky, a few cold cervezas to wash the tacos down.

I have in been in a few tight places, and know what an, " oh shit" moment is , this was one of those if I had ever had one. A lot of thoughts flashed through my mind, but I really didn't see any good options. I looked past the 15 to 20 taxi drivers and saw the little taxi driver who had given me the ride from the other station. This the same guy that tried to talk this hard head out of coming here in the first place, he was motioning for me to come over to his taxi.

The faster I walked toward him, the faster the group of hungry drivers walked behind me. Soon it was a fast walk, near a trot... they caught up to me just as me, and the new found friend, taxi driver piled in his little Datson taxi. As we smoked out of the parking lot (literally, the little car probably had 300,000 miles on it), but it was one of the best rides I have ever been in.

The other taxi drivers were less than happy to have last fare for the night, and possibly a lot of easy dollars, drive off in that little smoking,worn out car. The chase was on, they literally chased us through the streets of Chihuahua. We ran a couple of red lights before they gave up the chase.
This was getting more like a very bad dream, my little, new found buddy, told me he knew a motel that was cheap and near the station. By this point in my adventure, my choices had not been very good, and I figured this little guy had come to my rescue and my choices are getting pretty slim.

He took me to a motel on a back street, told me he would be back in a few hours and get me to the station for the morning train. This sounded too good to be true, but it was the best I had to work with.

As I lay in the motel room, the realization of how close to real serious danger I had been, and that it wasn't over yet, started to work on my mind. I started think all the what "if's" of the situation, what if the worst had happened and they made short work of me like a pack of hungry dogs would a rabbit. Would my family ever know what happened to me, or would I be another unsolved case of a missing gringo in Mexico.

As a side distraction, (that would have been funny under different conditions), a real "Latin Lover" had his favorite girl in the adjoining room . The rooms had very little to no insulation, and amplified the goings on next door, (to put it nicely, it would have made a sailor blush), and it went on literally most of the night. I really wanted to see these two, but my taxi actually arrived early in the morning, as promised.

Even as tight as I am, this little taxi driver got a large tip, and a lifelong appreciation that there are good, honest people even among those in the poorest of conditions.

I have always regretted that I did not get some way to contact him later, and maybe send a little Christmas for his kids or something. There is a whole world full of wonderful people out there. I also feel very strongly that a person truly gets rewarded for his helping others in their time of need.

Watch out for those banditos, but don't be afraid to trust people either.

The ole fart better stop Cut-N-Wind for the moment. One last thing for those of you who don't know, CUT-N-WIND is the name of my sailboat in San Carlos, Mexico.