Un Gato Negro en Nuevo Laredo

In 1994 I hopped the border with a woman who wanted to buy drugs.

My Companion (MC) was one to always have a fully-stocked medicine cabinet, and she and I hit Nuevo Laredo with a long shopping list.

I wasn't sure what to do, or whether this was really legal.

First we went to a pharmacy, where I served as translator. I showed the list to the pharmacist, who told me, "Alguien en la esquina puede ayudarles." ("Someone on the corner can help you.")

I repeated his words back to him. Someone? On the corner?

Baffled, I turned to MC and explained that part of this process involved seeking some stranger outside. She turned to leave, and I was right behind her.

I was beginning to protest when a man approached us. "¿Quieren comprar drogas?" ("Do you all want to buy drugs?")

"No no," I was saying as MC told him, "Si."

And we were off.

***

He led us through the streets, weaving in and out of vendors and dogs and smoke-sputtering cars on a day that felt like it was 130 degrees. Have you been to Nuevo Laredo? It's puro Mexico, my friend.

Finally he led us to a nondescript storefront office with "Doctor" stenciled on the door. MC handed him a tip and he was gone.

***

We went into the tiny, wood-paneled office, maybe 10' by 10' with a plain metal desk and a computer on top. A woman of about my (then) age was in there, and we explained what we wanted. The deal was this: We fork over some cash and she faxes the prescription to the pharmacy.

I watched the door the whole time, wondering whether this was some sort of tourist sting. I figured the federales or--worse yet--the Mexican police might come in and arrest us.

***

We were out the door in minutes, headed back to the very pharmacy where we'd started. In short order the prescriptions were filled, and we were given a paper grocery bag that was heavy with antiobiotics, muscle relaxants, sleep aids, and various opiates.

***

I still wasn't convinced this was cool. We had to get back across the border, and though I didn't mind carrying the bag, I intended to have MC carry it through customs.

But we shopped a bit first, poking around little tiendas for this and that. I bought a tiny, hand-carved black cat. Of course I did.
Blurry shot of the gato chico.

***

The heat was stunning, even to this Texas boy. Before heading back to the border I had to stop in the men's room. It cost 25 cents to use the facility, and my money was wasted; I went through the motions, but nothing happened. Odd.

***

I handed the bag back to MC as we approached the bridge over the Rio Grande. Mexicans swam in the water beneath our feet.

***

At about the midway point over the bridge, though, something happened: pain.

Bad pain.

We had to keep moving. I didn't say anything to MC. I just focused on getting back across the border.

The bag check occurred without incident, to a point. They looked at her drugs, looked at her prescriptions, and waved her through.

They took one look at me and waved me through.

Except... I couldn't move.

"I'm sorry, but there's a problem," I said through my teeth. "Something hurts, and I can't walk."

***

They laid me out right on the customs table there as I began to moan and writhe. I had gunshot-type pain in my side, abdomen, and back.

"Is it your appendix?" the security guy asked me.

"I don't know!" I barked.

"Do you want an ambulance?" he asked.

"Yes!"

***

I gather that the traffic snarl at the border isn't exactly a convenient place to maneuver an ambulance, though they got one there in pretty short order. I'd never been in one before. The EMTs gave me oxygen and checked my vitals. The pain began to subside.

In the ER they asked me what was going on and quickly surmised that I had a kidney stone. They doped me up and wheeled me to the far back corner of a big holding room. As I lay there, awash in narcotic bliss, I heard strange sounds, like distant screams or moans. I asked a nurse what that was.

"That's a patient from across the border. A Mexican ambulance showed up here and dropped him at our door. We don't know what's wrong with him, but he's over-medicated and screaming."

I was suddenly very glad I'd made it across the bridge.

***

As I waited there, a woman was wheeled in and placed in the corner adjacent to mine. Two men followed her, one of whom was fairly small and one of whom looked like a biker. He carried a motorcycle helmet.

Soon they two men began to argue there on opposite sides of her bed. I couldn't get much of what they were saying, though they struck me as being an ex-boyfriend and a current boyfriend. I was the only person in the room who could see what was happening.

The biker walked around the foot of the bed and flicked open a knife. "¿Tienes huevos?" ("You got balls?")

The other guy started yelling, "Nurse nurse nurse, help!"

Biker closed the knife and put it back in his pocket. The nurse came in and griped at them. She kicked out the man who'd yelled for help. For a tiny fraction of a second I considered explaining to the nurse that she'd kicked out the wrong man. Then my self-preservation instinct kicked in.

***

Eventually the kidney stone worked its way out and I was discharged. MC had her drugs, and I had a story.