Blog Assignment 3 -

Toilet paper chronicles of two jailbirds ~

So there we were stranded and handcuffed to a bed inside a prison cell in Tucson, AZ. What we had done to disserve such terrible fate was…be stupid. I’m not even going to try and make excuses because I believe every act that led us to this horrible destination came from this: Aaron and I not being able to sit still. Maybe it was the sudden realization and panic of finding yourself in a foreign country, completely lost and with no one around to help you that made us go ahead and make all the wrong choices. So I’ve decided to write this story down in, god forbid, toilet paper, so that if I ever have an Advance Writing assignment that applies to this subject I can remember everything correctly and tell the story for everyone’s sick sadistic amusement. That is, of course, assuming we get out of here.

Aaron had been planning this trip for months and everything seemed to be planned with outstanding precision. We had been dating for almost three years and he had proved to be a very calculative guy. Little did I know there are some things you just can’t calculate. Most of the time I like to think things up before I do anything. That way it’s not likely I will have to save my butt later. But for some reason I have yet to explain to myself I overlooked everything that could possibly go wrong and blindly trusted Aaron (Which in the future I will remind myself never to do again.)

The plan was taking a bus from Mexico to Tucson, AZ. Waste a little time (and money) and go back home the same night. It was all kind of pointless really; we didn’t really have to go there, we just wanted to. Perfect example of how not being able to sit still in your own country can get you in trouble. Getting there was not a problem, strangely enough since there’s usually a little difficulty when crossing foreign borders –Especially in the US.

By the end of the day between the two of us we had bought thousands of things, hell we even bought balloons just for the hell of it. We had 8$ left and a couple of quarters to pay for exactly two payphones. It was 11:30 p.m. when we finally made our first call for taxi service. The cab got us to the bus station by 11:50 and our bus wasn’t leaving until 2 a.m. Or at least that was what we were told. As soon as we got off, our cab advanced into the distance not even giving us a chance to notice that we were in for a dreadful surprise. As we marched, or rather intended to march inside TBC bus station we realized the door was locked and through the glass we were able to see there wasn’t a single soul inside. Which meant the obvious, it was closed.

“So what do we do now?” I stared up at Aaron in a very calm manner considering our situation. But it was mainly because I already knew the answer.

“Well, we’ve got some spare change so I guess we’ll call another cab and try Tufesa Bus Station. There’s supposed to be a bus leaving at 2:30 a.m.”

With that said we proceeded to use what was left of our change to call for another cab. It was then, right at that moment when the evil payphone of doom, not only refused to accept our quarters, but didn’t give them back that I started to panic. Okay, to be perfectly honest I went hysterical. Aaron, being the sweetheart that he is, managed to calm me down and get me up and walking. Where we were walking to? It’s safe to assume we had no idea. We figured we had to get somewhere eventually. As my therapist always says, in order to find the answer to a problem you must first stay clam. Well, now I know my therapist (Or former therapist in the near future I’m sorry to say) has never been surrounded by crazy homeless American’s. It seems that every turn we took got us surrounded with more of them when what we really wanted to do was get away. Soon we found ourselves with a gas station which would serve the purpose of getting us some change. We went in and bought a pair of chocolate bars which we devoured with animal devotion. So we had change now but we were suddenly hit with the realization that we had no idea where we were so we couldn’t call a cab to pick us up. I went into full nervous breakdown then. A cop who had eyed us since we approached the gas station seemed to take interest and asked us what was wrong. I took it upon myself to tell him in my best demoiselle in distress manner that we were lost and needed help. After some minimal Q&A he offered to give us a lift which had finally ended my ongoing hatred towards American cops. At least at that point.
The happiness which filled my heart as I realized Tufesa’s doors were wide opened and welcoming us is indescribable so I won’t even try and tell you how happy I was. Oh but no, our problems were so not over.

“Two tickets to Hermosillo” Said Aaron in his best English. Between the two of us I was the only one who spoke fluent English.

“2 a.m., sir?”

“Yes, please” Aaron smiled as the cashier took his money.

“Sorry sir but… are you two under aged?” The big African-American woman whose nametag read Lisa leaned forward to get a better look at the two of us. I was not surprised; Aaron is 17 and has grown no facial hair at all. Even I would be able to tell he was young despite his size and body build.

“Yes. Is there a problem?”

“Well, I’m sorry but I can’t sell you the tickets” Lisa gave Aaron back his money and I looked at him in disbelief. We were right in the same situation as before. Even though we showed her our papers which showed that both of us were soon going to be legal in a couple of months she refused. Aaron gave me our papers to hold while he screamed a felony or two and we stormed out of there. He was angry, or maybe he was just frustrated. I on the other hand was nervous. Nervous enough that in my attempt to light up my backpack by throwing all the garbage in a garbage can I threw away our papers too. Getting them back would’ve been easy if the cap hadn’t been screwed to the can. I kicked and shook the trashcan expecting it to magically pop open but nothing happen –Obviously.

So now thanks to me we were not only lost in a foreign country. We were also illegal. Along with those papers I threw in our visas and Mexican passports. Aaron was angry, and for a moment I thought he was going to scream at me real bad. But then he decided it was best to have his way with the garbage disposal. I was glad he was able to focus his anger at another thing other than me, until a cop conveniently saw him beating the living daylight out of federal property. One look at us and we were doomed. We couldn’t hide out ethnicity, and the fact that I was all red eyed from crying only made him think I was on dope. Which I wish I had been. I mean if you’re going to get blamed for it anyway what’s the point?
He asked for our papers which of course we didn’t have and of course he didn’t believe the trashcan story. So we were in a cop car again only this time we were about to become jailbirds. And that’s more or less what happened. They are currently running tests on my blood to check for narcotics. Aaron has already called his mom. They offered me to call mine but I would be dead before I even hanged-up the phone if I told my her what had happened. The only thing to do now is wait. If I never get out of here this “toilet book” will get longer until I can write a book that will, with some luck, make enough money to bail us out. For now this is all I’ll say, I’m running out of toilet paper. Hope to see you soon, whoever you are -Hopefully not in jail and in the safety of my own country.