Back when I was stationed in San Diego, I practically lived in Tijuana. I would break curfew just to go down there and get a Tijuana Danger Dog (bacon-wrapped hot dog on a steamed bun slathered with mayo, Cholula hot sauce, Jalapenos, pico de gallo – IMO culinary perfection. Had to be careful not to mix with too many Dos Eqqis though or you could end up soiling your government-issued tighty whiteys worse than a five-alarm wet dream- but I digress).
One of my haunts back then was a club called Las Pulgas way down the strip on Revolucion near the Jai Alai stadium. It was usually full of American servicemen and college kids from the States. For some reason, it was rare to find locals there, despite it having some of the cheapest drinks on Revolucion.
Anyway, one time I walked into Las Pulgas and there were NO Americans in there. Just a group of Mexican guys and a couple of girls that were with them. When I walked in, everybody stopped what they were doing and looked at me. Most of the guys were my age and dressed like you would expect to find in a Tijuana nightclub. There was one older dude there (maybe 5 years older than me), probably as tall as I was but heavy-set, disheveled and SLOPPY drunk, speaking no English. He had a pudgy baby face and a wimpy mustache that looked like it had been trying to grow for a while but just wouldn’t come in. He was so smashed that he was spitting when he spoke and was drooling out of the side of his mouth. This guy gave off some really bad vibes and seemed particularly offended that I was trespassing in Las Pulgas.
It was easy to see that this was not my night there, so I turned to leave, only to have this blubbering drunk guy start shouting at me. I couldn’t understand what he was saying, so I stopped and did the universal “I don’t speak Spanish” shoulder shrug. One of his buddies translated for him. “You too good for us, gringo?”
I tried to lie and tell them that I was looking for friends but they weren’t there and got the, “What? We aren’t your friends?” It was the line of questioning one typically gets when confronted by people who decide they want to play with you before they kick your ass for nothing more than entertainment value.
Now, If I tally up all the fights I’ve ever been in, I’ve probably won a third outright. Another third were either draws or got broken up before we could decide who the victor was. The last third I lost in a spectacular fashion (including one where I damn near knocked myself out with my opponent too amused by the spectacle to even lay a finger on me). I was WAY out of my league in Las Pulgas that night. My spidey-senses were going haywire and I knew I was in serious trouble. Long story short, these guys messed with me for a while and essentiallymade me grovel my way out of the bar after buying them all drinks and tipping the staff with whatever was left in my wallet. My night was over after that.
Fast forward to this weekend. I’m watching the opening credits to Narcos Mexico and they are flashing the actual pictures of the narcos that are portrayed in the series. I had to rewind after I saw one of the photos. I will concede that all this stuff happened 30 years ago and I will never know this for sure, but I was about 60% certain that the older guy in Las Pulgas, the baby-faced fat one, was Ramon Arellano Félix.
I am now 80% sure after seeing an interview with José María Yazpik, the actor that plays Amado Carrillo Fuentes. José is just a few months younger than I am and is from Tijuana. The son of a doctor, José mixed with the more privileged segment of Tijuana society and actuallycar-pooled to school with a couple of the kids who would later be portrayed in Season 3 of Narcos Mexico as Ramon’s “junior narcos”, which Jose found surreal. When the interviewer asked José if he ever saw Ramon Arellano Felix, he answered something along the lines of “Yeah, we would always run into them in the nightclubs on Revolucion!”
Right time, right crowd, right place. I will never be certain and there is a good chance that this is all in my head, but I’m now 80% sure that I might have had my wallet emptied by one of the biggest psychopaths ever produced by the Mexican drug trade. If it was him, its kind of cool in a really creepy kind of way.
