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	Wisdumb
	Drugs and Guns to Northern Baja - Part 1 (9-22-04) In the late 80's, I was a 'stu' going to Cal Poly in San Luis Obispo, CA. This is a derogatory term short for 'stu-dent' or 'stu-pid' but certainly not 'stu-d'. I was young, inexperienced, immature with no sense of 'self' and ran home to my parent's house every summer at the end of the school year. Based on my impressive résumé and resilient liver, I was perfect material for a surf trip to Mexico. Dave Sheesley and Glenn Policare were chosen from the usual roster of monkeys to accompany me on this adventure. The original 'plan' was to meet yet another friend named Dave in San Diego, pile into his van, and cross the boarder to adventure. To avoid confusion, I will refer to this second Dave by his new name, 'Total Flake'. So the night before, I believe, Glenn, another person like his brother and I go to the store to get supplies, like canned and bagged anything. On our way out to the parking lot, Glenn takes one of his powdered donuts and playfully throws it at me, full tilt, from about 4 feet away and nails me in the eye. I'll forget. Later that night, I call Total Flake and tell him we are getting our gear together and will see him the next day. He sheepishly reveals that his van is already full of 4 idiot surfers and "you, if you called". I can't fking believe this. As I do to this very day, I get stressed out and await impending doom because I was soo prepared for him to drive and not me. At this point in my life, I have had my driver's license for a year or two, and while I am probably a way better driver than Glenn, there are all of a sudden way more unknown variables than I am mentally prepared for. The next day, I pull myself together and figure that 1)I am not a total idiot, 2)I can speak fairly fluent Spanish, and 3)I have 2 other people with me for human shields or sacrifices to the police/criminals. So while I haven't been to Northern Baja, I had been all over Mexico at least 8 separate times and was sure to be able to recognize rideable surf. And with my giant, lime green, 2-door Oldsmobile Cutlass I was sure to be the king of the peninsula! To be sure, I spent some extra time checking the fluids and cleaning the windows before going to Long Beach to pick up Dave, who was taking the reliable public transportation from San Luis Obispo. This extra automotive attention paid off, because right as I was about to leave my house (late), the phone rang and it was Dave. He was pretty happy to have caught me since he missed his stop in Long Beach and was now relaxing on the grass out front of the senior citizen paradise called Leisure World. Envision yourself doing this before the invention of cell phones. He told me to meet him at the entrance street called Golden Rain where I assumed he would be soaking in a puddle of his own. When we picked up Dave, he was understandably delighted to see us instead of being totally fked by his situation. Apparently the bus driver mumbled something about Long Beach and Dave didn't hear it or was not paying attention; the jury is still out. We head south, stopping in San Ysidro to change some dollars into pesos to facilitate future alcohol purchases. It was also exciting to go by the Mc Donald's where there was a massive killing spree not long before our trip (http://massmurder.zyns.com/james_huberty_01.html). We arrive at the boarder for the moment of truth. I seem to recall getting some insurance at some point so we could feel more confident, if only on paper. The cars in front of us are being systematically waved through by a guard with a forced smile. We eagerly proceed until he jumps in front of us, displaying his menacing palm and demands us to stop (alto!). He leans in the window and begins grilling us (me) on our intentions and the duration of our stay. I minimize all the details of our stay to reduce the impact on his fine country. "What are you doing?" Camping. "For how long?" 2-3 days. "Do you have any drugs or guns?" No. At this point my mind is racing. The irony of this session is through the roof. Was he worried I might corrupt his country, keeping in mind the direction of my boarder crossing? I should probably not get caught picking up some of the mountains of litter everywhere either. Nonetheless, I somehow kept my mouth shut and was thoroughly intimidated. We then proceeded with caution and headed straight for the ocean. [Some of the details and chronology have been faded by the test of time but I will focus on the 'high' lights] In San Luis Obispo, Dave worked at a deli selling sandwiches and arguing with minors about the buying and selling of beer. Some of his coworkers had, or were renting, a house at Baja Malibu so Dave said we could stay there. Sounded good. We drop by their pad and it is very nice with a good view of Baja Malibu. This break has offered up MAD tube rides in the past but is poorly shaped this time. His friends seem pretty cool and we are getting our drink on and our snack on. Glenn has this lemon of an underwater camera. Dave scurries it away into the bathroom and gets some under (toilet)water footage of a brown monkey tail curler in the bowl. No mention was ever made of this so I assume it was either out of focus or the camera didn't have a 'macro' setting. It got late so we figured we would head out to camp somewhere. Oddly, we weren't invited to chill on the floor somewhere so we settled for the back of their pick-up trucks parked in the driveway. Early the next AM we bolted to find some surf and not be noticed. We headed to Rosarito beach and it was pumping at about 6-10' feet on the face, Mexican-size and looking fun, from the beach. Glenn was in the back seat giving me grief about everything which was getting on my nerves. I wasn't even supposed to be driving and had no idea where I was going so that didn't help. When I bottomed out on a rock and heard a big scary noise, he said "good one" to which I responded with a mouth full of spit. End of discussion. With no one out, we hustled into the water where we found that it was more unruly and heavy than we planned. After trying for a few, Dave gets caught inside and his board gets cracked in half. Not 2 pieces, just cracked. Still, it is broken. We go in and decide to head to Ensenada to get board repairs and something to eat. Amazingly, we find a huge marine supply store and get the stuff for a reasonable price. We stop by the fish market and grab some huge swordfish steaks and scallops. Outside, I see a fish taco stand and am drawn over. Tired, excited and hungry I opt for a shrimp taco instead of fish. "Yo qiero dos tacos de cabrones!" I get 2 shocked looks as I correct myself and ask for two tacos de camarones instead. The first attempt meant something like I wanted two bitch tacos, which they didn't have. We all shared a good laugh, at my expense as usual. I got my tacos and hustled out of there... more stories >>