Book PurchaseYou can purchase my books at http://www.lulu.com/ . They come with a colorful glossy cover in either the magazine version or pocket book version. Select (Buy) then type (Mark Ryan) in the search box. You will then see several of my current books along with other authors with the name (Ryan). My books are under the title "Adventures of the Romeo Gang". One book is a single short story. The other two books are a compilation of ten short stories. Select your choice and follow directions for purchase.
Disclaimer: (The following story is pure fiction. All names, places and events are coincidental and are only used to embellish the story.)
Pot Luck In Mexico
by Mark Ryan © 2010
The NSTA (National Science Teachers Association) National Conventions have always attracted a large crowd from every state in the union as well as from abroad. This year it is being held in San Diego, CA, on Mar 18-24, 2010, with the hope of attracting 40,000 attendees. The event is a stellar attraction for new and old teachers hoping to attend workshops or listen to guest speakers to learn about some new classroom methods and techniques. In addition, educational publishers and vendors show their new products and give away thousands of dollars worth of free materials that teachers can use in their classrooms.
I have tried to attend as many of these conventions as possible over the years for a variety of reasons, the most important of which is to share the excitement of teaching with other practitioners and recharge one’s enthusiasm. The event allows a teacher to gather a new bag of tricks to bring back to school, liven up the classroom and watch students get excited about learning.
The convention usually lasts about a week with the first few days devoted to day long courses and workshops and group meetings. The next few days has a variety of one hour events including short teacher workshops, guest speakers and debates, and smaller group meetings. Scattered over the week there are breakfast and lunch offerings sponsored by national teacher groups and in the evening there are social events and parties with dancing, food and fun. In between all these events you can also visit the local area to see some area attractions like museums, theaters, baseball stadiums, beaches and shopping areas.
This year some of the members of the Romeo group were invited to the NSTA Convention as guest lecturers in their various fields to present a lecture-discussion on new ideas in science education. The ROMEO group, (Retired Old Men Eating Out), is composed of retired science educators who work part-time for the University of Massachusetts and the STEM project (Science, Technology, Engineering and Mathematics). Each of the Romeos has an expertise in a scientific field including Nanotechnology, Human Gene Cloning, Bioluminescent Chemistry, Computer Neural Networks and Bioengineering. Although these are cutting edge sciences, the Romeos are able to tailor their lectures so that they are interesting to a wide variety of audiences from doctoral candidates to elementary school children.
Several months before the convention the Romeos gathered for their monthly lunch at a local restaurant in Boston’s North End District and planned to book their NSTA reservations together for the same flight and hotel from Boston to San Diego. Only four of the Romeos planned to attend the convention; Myself - Marco Grieco, Jim Terlucci, Joe Laprusso and Ed DeScharo. As always we booked our own reservations and then got reimbursed from an NSF (National Science Foundation) Educational Grant which only paid for travel and accommodations. We paid all the other costs like meals and sightseeing.
Although I always have a great time with the Romeos, something always goes wrong and I end up with “pot luck”. However, it always turns out good in the end. They say sometimes you fall in a mud puddle and then come up smelling like a rose. Hopefully that will happen on this trip.
Jim had made the reservations for both flight and hotel and we were to be seated together on the plane and would share double rooms at the hotel. The day finally arrived and we boarded the plane. However, they could only sit three of us together so I opted to take another seat which was at the back of the plane. It seems like I always have the “luck”. However, the plane got off on time and we landed safely on American Airlines at the San Diego International Airport. It was Monday, Mar.18th and we took the shuttle to our hotel in downtown San Diego. We were staying at the San Diego Marriott which was about a mile away from Convention Center. I was staying with Jim in a room with double bed and Joe and Ed in another room. The rooms were very nice but my bed was stuck in the corner with a built in bookcase overhead. I just know that I was going to bump my head on the bookcase when I got up in the middle of the night. At my age I seem to visit the bathroom several times a night. “Am I lucky or what?”
After checking in at the hotel we decided to take the bus tour around San Diego and see a few of the attractions. We found a list of the top ten things to do and decided to visit a few of them over the week. Since our lecture-presentations weren’t scheduled until Wednesday, we had two days for sightseeing before spending time at the convention.
Among the ten top sights to see in the city were Balboa Park with its Cultural Museums, San Diego Zoo, Sea World and Tijuana. We got off the bus at Balboa Park and spent the rest of the afternoon visiting all the attractions within this large and beautiful park. We saw the Japanese Garden, The House of Hospitality, The Aerospace Museum, and the Museum of Art.
That evening we were all invited to a complimentary dinner sponsored by the book publisher Prentice Hall at the well known restaurant called Anthony’s Fish Grotto on the Bay. We all ordered something different but I had a house special: Mama Ghio’s Famous Chowder and the Panko Alaskan Cod. The meal was delicious and the conversation was just great. After cocktails we went back to the hotel and turned in early, exhausted from a full day of non-stop activity.
On Tuesday morning we decided to take a day tour to Tijuana and planned to return for dinner at the hotel in San Diego. Since we were traveling out of the country it was necessary for us to bring our passports. Getting into Mexico was the easy part compared to the difficulty you would have with the U.S. Border Authorities if you didn’t have a valid passport on your return crossing.
The tour bus picked us up at our hotel and within a half hour we arrived at the Mexican border. At the gate the Mexican border police walked through the bus and quickly checked our passports and carry-on bags and then let the bus driver pass through the gate to the city. In a few minutes we were in Mexico and turned onto Avenida Revolucion (Revolution Avenue) and the Market District. The bus driver said he would stop here for an hour so that we could walk through the local shops and make some purchases. U.S. Customs limits each person to spend no more than $800 in merchandise which can include one liter of alcohol.
The colorful bazaars contained all sorts of handcrafts and unique jewelry and were truly a shopper’s paradise. Afterwards we toured the Avenue of the Heroes, Tijuana Cultural Center and the oldest Jai Alai Palace in Mexico. At the market square we saw the “Zonkey” which was actually a donkey painted with white and black stripes to look like a zebra. We all gathered around the “Zonkey” to have our picture taken. Of course as luck would have it, I was at the “Butt End”.
We then stopped into a quite restaurant to sample some traditional Mexican food. The four of us were seated at a table in the corner. For appetizers, the waiter brought over some fresh made salsa with tortilla chips for dipping. Just before the waiter took our main order, the local Mexican Police came into the restaurant and approached our table and asked to see our passports. Everything had previously gone so smoothly that we thought it was a joke. “How lucky can I be?”
However, the policemen asked us more abruptly and we quickly took out our passports. He circled the table and grabbed them all, one at a time. He then said that there was some question about there validity and asked us to quietly follow him outside the restaurant so he could quickly clear it up.
When we all got outside, there were four other policemen waiting. The head man introduced himself as Captain Valdez and asked us to please be seated in the police van so that we could go to the American Consulate to validate our identification papers. Not wanting to irritate the local authorities, we got in the van with Captain Valdez and two policemen. The other two policemen got in a car and we drove down the Avenue of Heroes. However, in a short time we were leaving the downtown district and driving out into the country side. When I protested and asked where we were going, Captain Valdez pulled out a gun a said, “You are all under arrest and will be charged with drug smuggling”. “Do I have the luck or what?”
We all looked at each other in horror and couldn’t believe what we had heard. In unison we asked, “On what grounds and where is the evidence”? Captain Valdez then took out several bags of marijuana and cocaine from his pocket and said, “These have been found in your possession”. “How could that be”? I shouted, “You haven’t even searched us”. Captain Valdez then said, “I will certainly search you all later but for now just stop talking or I will have to tie and gag you”. He then handed us each a plastic bag and told us to empty our pockets and drop everything into the bag including our jewelry, cell phone and wallet. Since we were being held hostage at the point of a gun, there was nothing else we could do.
After a few hours we drove off the main highway and down a long dirt road and stopped at a large farm house. There were large green crop fields in the distance, with a dirt airstrip and a small airplane parked next to a barn. We could also see several men with rifles and guns all along the road and in front of the house. A big man with thinning white hair and dressed in a white shirt and tie with pressed pants and shiny shoes approached the van. He must have been the head honcho since Captain Valdez greeted him by saying, “Buenas Tardes Senor Hernandes”. Senor Hernandez replied “Good Afternoon Captain Valdez, I see that you have our guests. Please bring them to the guest quarters”. Maybe my luck was changing, I thought. Senor Hernandez sounds like a nice guy.
However, Captain Valdez then escorted us all to the barn as the guards pushed us in quickly shutting and locking the door behind. We were all now trapped inside. The barn was a big room with ten bunk beds along the left wall with a kitchen and a bathroom at the far end. It was probably used as sleeping quarters for the farm hands. There was a half wall down the center of the barn with some farm tools on the other side. There was also a tractor and some bags of seed and fertilizer on the other side stacked against the right wall.
We realized that we were now truly prisoners but could not figure out why. As we surveyed the barn, you could see some light coming through the uneven barn boards on the wall. Looking out between the boards on the left wall we could see some men with rifles near the main house, the airstrip and a small plane parked on the edge. We also heard other men stationed outside guarding the barn door.
An hour passed and we heard the barn door being unlocked and two men entered who were badly beaten followed by two guards holding guns. The beaten men, who looked like they were farm workers, carried some buckets of food and water to the table in the kitchen and then collapsed on the floor. One of the guards then said that the workers had been caught stealing food and could no longer be trusted and would be locked up and dealt with tomorrow.
The guard also said, “You better eat and get some sleep tonight, for you will have a long walk tomorrow to our camp in the mountains if you survive the night. The American gringos that were here last month tried to fight their way out and we buried them in a ditch in the woods”.
He then said, “If your friends back in the U.S. pay the ransom, we may release you but it all depends on how quick your friends respond. Captain Valdez will be contacting the U.S. Embassy shortly with our demands”. The guards then left and locked the barn door.
Joe quickly went over to the collapsed men who were moaning with pain and bleeding from wounds on their heads and tried to make them comfortable on the floor. I grabbed a sheet from one of the bunk beds and ripped it into small pieces and soaked it with some water to clean their wounds. Joe was more experienced in first aid and dressed the wounds and wrapped them with make shift bandages. In a short time the men regained consciousness and although frightened at first, they then realized we were trying to help.
We then distributed the food and water to ourselves and the wounded men in order that they might regain their strength. After a while one of the men whose name was Jose explained that they were forced into hard labor along with other men from their village to harvest the crops which were now ready for picking. He then said, “The vast green fields you see outside contain thousands of marijuana plants that will be dried and secretly shipped to the U.S. as part of Mexico’s clandestine drug trade.” Jose then continued, “We were beaten because we had worked in the fields all day under the blazing sun and hadn’t eaten since yesterday and tried to steal some food and water from the field wagon”.
He also said, “The owner of the farm, Senor Hernandez is a rich and corrupt politico from the Mexican State government who controls the local police and also works for the Esparansa Drug Cartel”.
I had read in the Boston Globe newspaper that Juan Esparansa was a drug lord who controlled most of the marijuana drug market in Mexico and had more influence on the Mexican government than the elected officials who were also corrupt. In fact the U.S. Secretary of State Hillary Clinton had recently visited Guatemala and complained about the rampant drug trade in the U.S. and the drugs coming from Mexico. She further described all the influence that the drug cartel was having on international relations. She also said, “Organized crime has infiltrated all aspects of the Guatemalan state, and now rivals it in terms of power and influence.’’ The drug czar Nelly Bonilla was recently arrested, along with national police chief Baltazar Gomez. They were accused of being the ringleaders of a criminal police gang that stole 1,500 pounds of cocaine.
Jose further described how the drug trade had recently suffered a loss since California had legalized medical marijuana. This legalization allowed California residence or their designees to grow up to 99 plants each for medical purposes. This has spawned the growth of huge marijuana farms in Northern California to grow and supply their customers in the big cities to the south. Consequently, people had switched buying Mexican marijuana for California marijuana. In retaliation, the Mexican drug traffickers have started a turf war in California threatening and forcing marijuana users to buy Mexican. In addition, the Mexican drug lords have begun to capture American tourists and hold them for millions of dollars in ransom money to make up the difference in their lost drug trade.
Jose then said that the small airplane parked near the barn is usually loaded with several bails of dried marijuana and flown across the Mexican border at night so as to avoid being spotted. They then land at hidden airstrips in the back woods of California, New Mexico, Arizona and Texas. They usually leave after 10 PM and then return about 2 AM.
As soon as I heard about the airplane, I knew that it was our only way out. If we didn’t escape tonight, we would be prisoners in the mountains of Mexico tomorrow morning or most likely murdered. However, there was only room for four people on the small Cessna 172 airplane and we would have to leave the farm workers behind. Jose understood and said it would be better for them to escape into the fields and work their way back to their village. They would be safe there with friends.
I then told the rest of our group that I had my pilot’s license and could fly us to safety. I didn’t tell them that I was quite rusty and hadn’t flown for years. However, it should be like riding a bicycle, you never forget the basics. We could probably steal the plane shortly after it returned at 2 AM. However, we would have to add some fuel from the gas cans left along the side of the barn without being seen, since the flight across the border and back would have used up most of the gas in its tanks.
However, we needed a diversion so that the guards wouldn’t hear the plane taking off down the runway with us in it. That meant we would need to have the guards run to the other side of the barn, away from the airplane. I looked around the barn for something to use and saw the fertilizer and thought that with a little luck we could cause a huge fire and an explosion by mixing some motor oil, cleaning fluid, gasoline and fertilizer. I was really counting on my luck to change for the better. Ed would have to help with making the fire since he was the Chemist.
At 10 PM we heard the plane take off and then return at about 2 AM. The pilot got out of the plane and jumped into a small truck and drove away as he waved to the guards. While the plane approached the end of the runway to park, we used the loud engine sound to disguise our work removing a barn board. Jim quietly pried a loose board away from the left side wall big enough for all of us to crawl through. At he same time, Ed piled a few bags of fertilizer against far right wall and soaked them with motor oil and cleaning fluid. He also poured a trail of gasoline from the makeshift fertilizer bomb across the floor to our escape hole on the left side of the barn.
We waited another hour so that the guards might dose off and relax their vigilance. We then all crawled out the escape hole and waited for the precise moment when the guards were out of sight. Jose and his friend quietly crawled through the grass to the adjacent woods and quickly disappeared. Hopefully they will be safe.
Luckily, it was cloudy with no moonlight and very dark. Luck was continuing to turn in our favor. As the three of us, Jim, Joe and me Marco, quietly crawled through the grass to the plane; Ed stayed behind to light the gasoline trail that would travel to the other side of the barn and cause a huge fire. Ed had to wait for our signal first and then light the gasoline trail.
When we got to the plane, I pulled over a ladder and climbed onto the high wing Cessna to fill the plane’s gas tank at the gas cap on top of the wing. I slowly poured the gasoline so as not to make a sound. When it was filled, we all got inside the plane and I scanned all the instruments to refresh my memory on the sequence of things: brake release, ignition switch on, flaps down, adjust throttle to full, and then press start button. We signaled to Ed to start the fire. He lit a match that we had found in the kitchen and ignited the gasoline on the barn floor. The flame shot across the floor to the opposite wall and started burning around the piles of fertilizer and then exploded into a huge fire ball.
The guards ran to the opposite side of the barn away from the plane and began shouting to put out the fire. They dropped their rifles and ran to get some water buckets. At that same moment, Ed ran toward the plane as I pushed the starter button. The engine sputtered and chocked at first. I pushed the button again as I worked the throttle to prime the engine and it eventually started. The plane began to move toward the runway as Ed ran closer to catch us. We held the door open and Ed jumped in. With the throttle full the plane began to increase speed as it moved down the runway.
Some of the guards realized that we were no longer locked in the barn and began firing their rifles at the plane. Luckily we were moving further away and it was too dark for them to aim clearly. The end of the runway was coming up closer and closer as the plane started to lift. I pulled up slightly on the wheel to easy our climb gradually so we wouldn’t stall. However, there were some tall trees in the distance that were directly in our flight path. I pulled up a little more on the wheel but it looked like we were still to close. Just as the plane looked like it might hit the trees I turned the wheel slightly left and we breezed right through the top tree branches clipping off a few leaves. Luck was still with me.
At that moment the guards were still firing their rifles at the plane and a bullet hit the left wing and punctured the gas tank. In a high wing Cessna 172, the gas tank is located on the underside of the wing which runs over the cockpit. I looked out the side window and a stream of gasoline was leaking out from the wing tank. I stayed low a headed north just over the tree line. We were now traveling at about 80 mph and would cross the border soon with any luck. The landscape now changed to rolling hills and dessert sands. It was rough country below and I wouldn’t want to get stuck out in the dessert without water and proper clothing.
After a few more minutes the engine started sputtering. I looked at the gas gauge which now read empty. The bullet hole must have drained the tank dry more quickly than I predicted. We had only been flying about ten minutes and at this speed had only traveled about ten miles north. I looked for a place to land but it was hard seeing with no moon and a low cloud cover. I flew the plane slow and low to the ground. The terrain ahead was flat but I was afraid I might hit a rock or a ditch that might flip the plane. With the speed approaching 50 mph and just a hair above stall speed, I pulled up on the wheel and the plane slowly settled onto the ground bouncing up and down as it hit some small ruts and eventually came to a stop. Our “pot luck” was with us since we hadn’t hit any “pot holes”.
We all sighed with relief that we had escaped and landed without crashing. Our luck was getting better. However, we had no idea where we were. There were no land marks that I was familiar with. While we were flying low, we only crossed two roads but didn’t see any houses or man made structures. The only clue that I had was that the airplane had an old GPS that listed its latitude and longitude. If we could find some aeronautical charts in the plane cockpit, we might be able to figure out our position on the chart with the GPS readings.
The starting GPS coordinates at the Marijuana Farm were N32.25.10 and W116.44.36 and the present landing coordinates were N 32.33.14 and W116.47.12. We found a chart on the plane and approximated that we were about 30 miles southeast of Tijuana and just south of the border. If we kept walking north we might run into a border fence. Hopefully with some luck we might be spotted by U.S. Helicopters or cameras or flying drones patrolling the fence and not by local Mexican Police. We still couldn’t trust the local police in this area of Mexico.
We grabbed a water jug from the plane and started walking north. After a few minutes we heard some movement over a hill and slowly crawled to the top to take a look. There was a small group of about ten people led by a man wearing hiking boots and dressed in an army jacket with a baseball cap. There were men, women and children in the party.
We were tempted to yell for help and join the group but I had second thoughts and told everyone to keep quiet and stay hidden. The group were probably illegal immigrants trying to cross the border. The leader is called a Coyote and extorts money from these poor people in the hope that he will guide them across the border and they will find a better life in the United States. However, many never survive the grueling journey and die along the way from disease, lack of water or accident.
Ed whispered quietly, “Maybe we should just follow them. Evidently the Coyote knows the way to the border”. I agreed and said, “That’s a good idea but let’s stay back out of site and keep watch from a distance”.
The group continued north crossing a stream and then a small meadow, disappearing into a wooded area. We walked carefully around the meadow so as not to be seen and then slipped into the woods listening for foot noise on dry leaves or loose branches. In a short time we heard a young child crying. We crouched down behind some trees and watched as the Coyote was scolding the mother to keep her child quiet or be left behind. The child continued to cry and the Coyote slapped the child hard and told the mother to stay here with her child and he would come back for them later. The group left the mother and child behind and disappeared in the woods ahead. We knew that the Coyote would never return. However, the mother stayed put and tried to quiet the child. In a short time the child stopped crying and the mother continued to walk north hoping to stay quiet and catch up with the group later.
That made it difficult for us now since we might lose sight of the main group and follow the mother and child going in a wrong direction. However, we continued to move north and in a short time we could see a barbed wire fence that had been cut where the Coyote had gone through as well as the mother and child. This must be the border fence between Mexico and the U.S. . . . We knew the group was close because we could hear commotion in the distance.
We quietly went through the fence and in a short distance saw a dirt road and a large truck parked. The immigrants were sitting inside the back of the truck. The Coyote gave the driver something in a bag which was probably money and then they locked the back of the truck with the people inside. God knows how long they will ride in the truck and to what American city they will be dumped. If they survive the truck ride with no air, they will have to find help on the other end. The man got in the truck a drove away. The Coyote walked back in the woods toward us and we hid on the ground behind some trees as he passed.
We remained quiet for several minutes until we were sure that the Coyote was gone. We then got up and walked quickly down the dirt road still heading north. In about a half mile we saw that the truck had been stopped by the American Border Police. The driver was arrested and in handcuffs along with all the immigrants. The police had called for a transport bus to carry the people back to the border and be processed with the Immigration Authorities. They would probably just be driven back to Mexico and a record kept of their illegal border crossing. Unfortunately, they would probably try again soon. Anything is better than the poverty that they face in Mexico, with the hope of a better life and a good job in the U.S.
We called to the police from the safety of the trees and shouted “We are Americans. Don’t shoot. We are coming out.” The police didn’t know if this was a trick and told us to put our hands in the air and quietly come out as they held guns and rifles pointed at us.
After a while we told the police what had happened in Tijuana and at the Marijuana Farm and along the trail with the Coyote. They then said that they believed us but would have to bring us to the border facility and verify our identities. Hopefully this was the end of our long ordeal and that our luck was about to change again, this time hopefully for the good.
They say that Potluck is a community dinner with everyone bringing something to eat and share. However, our “Pot Luck” can only be described as an assortment of good and bad luck which occurred on this “Pot” Shrouded Marijuana Merry-Go-Round in Mexico. Maybe that photo I took in Tijuana on the “Butt End” of the “Zonkey” was an omen.
Comments: (always welcome). Email to markryan82@comcast.net
Acknowledgements:
I would like to thank my Romeo friends for their colorful backgrounds and giving me the inspiration for my stories.
References:
NSTA Conventions
http://nstacommunities.org/blog/
Things to Do In San Diego
http://gocalifornia.about.com/cs/sandiego/a/sdtop10.htm
Death of Joseline – A immigrant along the Arizona Border
http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=124046778
Drug Wars in Mexico – 15,000 killings
http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=122051789
Legalize Marijuana in Mexico
http://rawstory.com/blog/2009/08/mexico-legalizes-drug-posession/
Clinton Visits South America – Drug War (Big Pharma)
http://www.boston.com/news/world/latinamerica/articles/2010/03/06/clinton_urges_latin_america_to_tackle_drug_corruption/
Day Trip to Tijuana
http://gocalifornia.about.com/od/casdmenu/a/tijuana_day.htm
US Dept State – Info on Travel Outside the US
http://gocalifornia.about.com/gi/o.htm?zi=1/XJ&zTi=1&sdn=gocalifornia&cdn=travel&tm=16&gps=676_293_1436_699&f=20&su=p284.9.336.ip_p531.50.336.ip_&tt=2&bt=1&bts=1&zu=http%3A//travel.state.gov/travel/cis_pa_tw/cis/cis_970.html
Pot Luck In Mexico
by Mark Ryan © 2010
The NSTA (National Science Teachers Association) National Conventions have always attracted a large crowd from every state in the union as well as from abroad. This year it is being held in San Diego, CA, on Mar 18-24, 2010, with the hope of attracting 40,000 attendees. The event is a stellar attraction for new and old teachers hoping to attend workshops or listen to guest speakers to learn about some new classroom methods and techniques. In addition, educational publishers and vendors show their new products and give away thousands of dollars worth of free materials that teachers can use in their classrooms.
I have tried to attend as many of these conventions as possible over the years for a variety of reasons, the most important of which is to share the excitement of teaching with other practitioners and recharge one’s enthusiasm. The event allows a teacher to gather a new bag of tricks to bring back to school, liven up the classroom and watch students get excited about learning.
The convention usually lasts about a week with the first few days devoted to day long courses and workshops and group meetings. The next few days has a variety of one hour events including short teacher workshops, guest speakers and debates, and smaller group meetings. Scattered over the week there are breakfast and lunch offerings sponsored by national teacher groups and in the evening there are social events and parties with dancing, food and fun. In between all these events you can also visit the local area to see some area attractions like museums, theaters, baseball stadiums, beaches and shopping areas.
This year some of the members of the Romeo group were invited to the NSTA Convention as guest lecturers in their various fields to present a lecture-discussion on new ideas in science education. The ROMEO group, (Retired Old Men Eating Out), is composed of retired science educators who work part-time for the University of Massachusetts and the STEM project (Science, Technology, Engineering and Mathematics). Each of the Romeos has an expertise in a scientific field including Nanotechnology, Human Gene Cloning, Bioluminescent Chemistry, Computer Neural Networks and Bioengineering. Although these are cutting edge sciences, the Romeos are able to tailor their lectures so that they are interesting to a wide variety of audiences from doctoral candidates to elementary school children.
Several months before the convention the Romeos gathered for their monthly lunch at a local restaurant in Boston’s North End District and planned to book their NSTA reservations together for the same flight and hotel from Boston to San Diego. Only four of the Romeos planned to attend the convention; Myself - Marco Grieco, Jim Terlucci, Joe Laprusso and Ed DeScharo. As always we booked our own reservations and then got reimbursed from an NSF (National Science Foundation) Educational Grant which only paid for travel and accommodations. We paid all the other costs like meals and sightseeing.
Although I always have a great time with the Romeos, something always goes wrong and I end up with “pot luck”. However, it always turns out good in the end. They say sometimes you fall in a mud puddle and then come up smelling like a rose. Hopefully that will happen on this trip.
Jim had made the reservations for both flight and hotel and we were to be seated together on the plane and would share double rooms at the hotel. The day finally arrived and we boarded the plane. However, they could only sit three of us together so I opted to take another seat which was at the back of the plane. It seems like I always have the “luck”. However, the plane got off on time and we landed safely on American Airlines at the San Diego International Airport. It was Monday, Mar.18th and we took the shuttle to our hotel in downtown San Diego. We were staying at the San Diego Marriott which was about a mile away from Convention Center. I was staying with Jim in a room with double bed and Joe and Ed in another room. The rooms were very nice but my bed was stuck in the corner with a built in bookcase overhead. I just know that I was going to bump my head on the bookcase when I got up in the middle of the night. At my age I seem to visit the bathroom several times a night. “Am I lucky or what?”
After checking in at the hotel we decided to take the bus tour around San Diego and see a few of the attractions. We found a list of the top ten things to do and decided to visit a few of them over the week. Since our lecture-presentations weren’t scheduled until Wednesday, we had two days for sightseeing before spending time at the convention.
Among the ten top sights to see in the city were Balboa Park with its Cultural Museums, San Diego Zoo, Sea World and Tijuana. We got off the bus at Balboa Park and spent the rest of the afternoon visiting all the attractions within this large and beautiful park. We saw the Japanese Garden, The House of Hospitality, The Aerospace Museum, and the Museum of Art.
That evening we were all invited to a complimentary dinner sponsored by the book publisher Prentice Hall at the well known restaurant called Anthony’s Fish Grotto on the Bay. We all ordered something different but I had a house special: Mama Ghio’s Famous Chowder and the Panko Alaskan Cod. The meal was delicious and the conversation was just great. After cocktails we went back to the hotel and turned in early, exhausted from a full day of non-stop activity.
On Tuesday morning we decided to take a day tour to Tijuana and planned to return for dinner at the hotel in San Diego. Since we were traveling out of the country it was necessary for us to bring our passports. Getting into Mexico was the easy part compared to the difficulty you would have with the U.S. Border Authorities if you didn’t have a valid passport on your return crossing.
The tour bus picked us up at our hotel and within a half hour we arrived at the Mexican border. At the gate the Mexican border police walked through the bus and quickly checked our passports and carry-on bags and then let the bus driver pass through the gate to the city. In a few minutes we were in Mexico and turned onto Avenida Revolucion (Revolution Avenue) and the Market District. The bus driver said he would stop here for an hour so that we could walk through the local shops and make some purchases. U.S. Customs limits each person to spend no more than $800 in merchandise which can include one liter of alcohol.
The colorful bazaars contained all sorts of handcrafts and unique jewelry and were truly a shopper’s paradise. Afterwards we toured the Avenue of the Heroes, Tijuana Cultural Center and the oldest Jai Alai Palace in Mexico. At the market square we saw the “Zonkey” which was actually a donkey painted with white and black stripes to look like a zebra. We all gathered around the “Zonkey” to have our picture taken. Of course as luck would have it, I was at the “Butt End”.
We then stopped into a quite restaurant to sample some traditional Mexican food. The four of us were seated at a table in the corner. For appetizers, the waiter brought over some fresh made salsa with tortilla chips for dipping. Just before the waiter took our main order, the local Mexican Police came into the restaurant and approached our table and asked to see our passports. Everything had previously gone so smoothly that we thought it was a joke. “How lucky can I be?”
However, the policemen asked us more abruptly and we quickly took out our passports. He circled the table and grabbed them all, one at a time. He then said that there was some question about there validity and asked us to quietly follow him outside the restaurant so he could quickly clear it up.
When we all got outside, there were four other policemen waiting. The head man introduced himself as Captain Valdez and asked us to please be seated in the police van so that we could go to the American Consulate to validate our identification papers. Not wanting to irritate the local authorities, we got in the van with Captain Valdez and two policemen. The other two policemen got in a car and we drove down the Avenue of Heroes. However, in a short time we were leaving the downtown district and driving out into the country side. When I protested and asked where we were going, Captain Valdez pulled out a gun a said, “You are all under arrest and will be charged with drug smuggling”. “Do I have the luck or what?”
We all looked at each other in horror and couldn’t believe what we had heard. In unison we asked, “On what grounds and where is the evidence”? Captain Valdez then took out several bags of marijuana and cocaine from his pocket and said, “These have been found in your possession”. “How could that be”? I shouted, “You haven’t even searched us”. Captain Valdez then said, “I will certainly search you all later but for now just stop talking or I will have to tie and gag you”. He then handed us each a plastic bag and told us to empty our pockets and drop everything into the bag including our jewelry, cell phone and wallet. Since we were being held hostage at the point of a gun, there was nothing else we could do.
After a few hours we drove off the main highway and down a long dirt road and stopped at a large farm house. There were large green crop fields in the distance, with a dirt airstrip and a small airplane parked next to a barn. We could also see several men with rifles and guns all along the road and in front of the house. A big man with thinning white hair and dressed in a white shirt and tie with pressed pants and shiny shoes approached the van. He must have been the head honcho since Captain Valdez greeted him by saying, “Buenas Tardes Senor Hernandes”. Senor Hernandez replied “Good Afternoon Captain Valdez, I see that you have our guests. Please bring them to the guest quarters”. Maybe my luck was changing, I thought. Senor Hernandez sounds like a nice guy.
However, Captain Valdez then escorted us all to the barn as the guards pushed us in quickly shutting and locking the door behind. We were all now trapped inside. The barn was a big room with ten bunk beds along the left wall with a kitchen and a bathroom at the far end. It was probably used as sleeping quarters for the farm hands. There was a half wall down the center of the barn with some farm tools on the other side. There was also a tractor and some bags of seed and fertilizer on the other side stacked against the right wall.
We realized that we were now truly prisoners but could not figure out why. As we surveyed the barn, you could see some light coming through the uneven barn boards on the wall. Looking out between the boards on the left wall we could see some men with rifles near the main house, the airstrip and a small plane parked on the edge. We also heard other men stationed outside guarding the barn door.
An hour passed and we heard the barn door being unlocked and two men entered who were badly beaten followed by two guards holding guns. The beaten men, who looked like they were farm workers, carried some buckets of food and water to the table in the kitchen and then collapsed on the floor. One of the guards then said that the workers had been caught stealing food and could no longer be trusted and would be locked up and dealt with tomorrow.
The guard also said, “You better eat and get some sleep tonight, for you will have a long walk tomorrow to our camp in the mountains if you survive the night. The American gringos that were here last month tried to fight their way out and we buried them in a ditch in the woods”.
He then said, “If your friends back in the U.S. pay the ransom, we may release you but it all depends on how quick your friends respond. Captain Valdez will be contacting the U.S. Embassy shortly with our demands”. The guards then left and locked the barn door.
Joe quickly went over to the collapsed men who were moaning with pain and bleeding from wounds on their heads and tried to make them comfortable on the floor. I grabbed a sheet from one of the bunk beds and ripped it into small pieces and soaked it with some water to clean their wounds. Joe was more experienced in first aid and dressed the wounds and wrapped them with make shift bandages. In a short time the men regained consciousness and although frightened at first, they then realized we were trying to help.
We then distributed the food and water to ourselves and the wounded men in order that they might regain their strength. After a while one of the men whose name was Jose explained that they were forced into hard labor along with other men from their village to harvest the crops which were now ready for picking. He then said, “The vast green fields you see outside contain thousands of marijuana plants that will be dried and secretly shipped to the U.S. as part of Mexico’s clandestine drug trade.” Jose then continued, “We were beaten because we had worked in the fields all day under the blazing sun and hadn’t eaten since yesterday and tried to steal some food and water from the field wagon”.
He also said, “The owner of the farm, Senor Hernandez is a rich and corrupt politico from the Mexican State government who controls the local police and also works for the Esparansa Drug Cartel”.
I had read in the Boston Globe newspaper that Juan Esparansa was a drug lord who controlled most of the marijuana drug market in Mexico and had more influence on the Mexican government than the elected officials who were also corrupt. In fact the U.S. Secretary of State Hillary Clinton had recently visited Guatemala and complained about the rampant drug trade in the U.S. and the drugs coming from Mexico. She further described all the influence that the drug cartel was having on international relations. She also said, “Organized crime has infiltrated all aspects of the Guatemalan state, and now rivals it in terms of power and influence.’’ The drug czar Nelly Bonilla was recently arrested, along with national police chief Baltazar Gomez. They were accused of being the ringleaders of a criminal police gang that stole 1,500 pounds of cocaine.
Jose further described how the drug trade had recently suffered a loss since California had legalized medical marijuana. This legalization allowed California residence or their designees to grow up to 99 plants each for medical purposes. This has spawned the growth of huge marijuana farms in Northern California to grow and supply their customers in the big cities to the south. Consequently, people had switched buying Mexican marijuana for California marijuana. In retaliation, the Mexican drug traffickers have started a turf war in California threatening and forcing marijuana users to buy Mexican. In addition, the Mexican drug lords have begun to capture American tourists and hold them for millions of dollars in ransom money to make up the difference in their lost drug trade.
Jose then said that the small airplane parked near the barn is usually loaded with several bails of dried marijuana and flown across the Mexican border at night so as to avoid being spotted. They then land at hidden airstrips in the back woods of California, New Mexico, Arizona and Texas. They usually leave after 10 PM and then return about 2 AM.
As soon as I heard about the airplane, I knew that it was our only way out. If we didn’t escape tonight, we would be prisoners in the mountains of Mexico tomorrow morning or most likely murdered. However, there was only room for four people on the small Cessna 172 airplane and we would have to leave the farm workers behind. Jose understood and said it would be better for them to escape into the fields and work their way back to their village. They would be safe there with friends.
I then told the rest of our group that I had my pilot’s license and could fly us to safety. I didn’t tell them that I was quite rusty and hadn’t flown for years. However, it should be like riding a bicycle, you never forget the basics. We could probably steal the plane shortly after it returned at 2 AM. However, we would have to add some fuel from the gas cans left along the side of the barn without being seen, since the flight across the border and back would have used up most of the gas in its tanks.
However, we needed a diversion so that the guards wouldn’t hear the plane taking off down the runway with us in it. That meant we would need to have the guards run to the other side of the barn, away from the airplane. I looked around the barn for something to use and saw the fertilizer and thought that with a little luck we could cause a huge fire and an explosion by mixing some motor oil, cleaning fluid, gasoline and fertilizer. I was really counting on my luck to change for the better. Ed would have to help with making the fire since he was the Chemist.
At 10 PM we heard the plane take off and then return at about 2 AM. The pilot got out of the plane and jumped into a small truck and drove away as he waved to the guards. While the plane approached the end of the runway to park, we used the loud engine sound to disguise our work removing a barn board. Jim quietly pried a loose board away from the left side wall big enough for all of us to crawl through. At he same time, Ed piled a few bags of fertilizer against far right wall and soaked them with motor oil and cleaning fluid. He also poured a trail of gasoline from the makeshift fertilizer bomb across the floor to our escape hole on the left side of the barn.
We waited another hour so that the guards might dose off and relax their vigilance. We then all crawled out the escape hole and waited for the precise moment when the guards were out of sight. Jose and his friend quietly crawled through the grass to the adjacent woods and quickly disappeared. Hopefully they will be safe.
Luckily, it was cloudy with no moonlight and very dark. Luck was continuing to turn in our favor. As the three of us, Jim, Joe and me Marco, quietly crawled through the grass to the plane; Ed stayed behind to light the gasoline trail that would travel to the other side of the barn and cause a huge fire. Ed had to wait for our signal first and then light the gasoline trail.
When we got to the plane, I pulled over a ladder and climbed onto the high wing Cessna to fill the plane’s gas tank at the gas cap on top of the wing. I slowly poured the gasoline so as not to make a sound. When it was filled, we all got inside the plane and I scanned all the instruments to refresh my memory on the sequence of things: brake release, ignition switch on, flaps down, adjust throttle to full, and then press start button. We signaled to Ed to start the fire. He lit a match that we had found in the kitchen and ignited the gasoline on the barn floor. The flame shot across the floor to the opposite wall and started burning around the piles of fertilizer and then exploded into a huge fire ball.
The guards ran to the opposite side of the barn away from the plane and began shouting to put out the fire. They dropped their rifles and ran to get some water buckets. At that same moment, Ed ran toward the plane as I pushed the starter button. The engine sputtered and chocked at first. I pushed the button again as I worked the throttle to prime the engine and it eventually started. The plane began to move toward the runway as Ed ran closer to catch us. We held the door open and Ed jumped in. With the throttle full the plane began to increase speed as it moved down the runway.
Some of the guards realized that we were no longer locked in the barn and began firing their rifles at the plane. Luckily we were moving further away and it was too dark for them to aim clearly. The end of the runway was coming up closer and closer as the plane started to lift. I pulled up slightly on the wheel to easy our climb gradually so we wouldn’t stall. However, there were some tall trees in the distance that were directly in our flight path. I pulled up a little more on the wheel but it looked like we were still to close. Just as the plane looked like it might hit the trees I turned the wheel slightly left and we breezed right through the top tree branches clipping off a few leaves. Luck was still with me.
At that moment the guards were still firing their rifles at the plane and a bullet hit the left wing and punctured the gas tank. In a high wing Cessna 172, the gas tank is located on the underside of the wing which runs over the cockpit. I looked out the side window and a stream of gasoline was leaking out from the wing tank. I stayed low a headed north just over the tree line. We were now traveling at about 80 mph and would cross the border soon with any luck. The landscape now changed to rolling hills and dessert sands. It was rough country below and I wouldn’t want to get stuck out in the dessert without water and proper clothing.
After a few more minutes the engine started sputtering. I looked at the gas gauge which now read empty. The bullet hole must have drained the tank dry more quickly than I predicted. We had only been flying about ten minutes and at this speed had only traveled about ten miles north. I looked for a place to land but it was hard seeing with no moon and a low cloud cover. I flew the plane slow and low to the ground. The terrain ahead was flat but I was afraid I might hit a rock or a ditch that might flip the plane. With the speed approaching 50 mph and just a hair above stall speed, I pulled up on the wheel and the plane slowly settled onto the ground bouncing up and down as it hit some small ruts and eventually came to a stop. Our “pot luck” was with us since we hadn’t hit any “pot holes”.
We all sighed with relief that we had escaped and landed without crashing. Our luck was getting better. However, we had no idea where we were. There were no land marks that I was familiar with. While we were flying low, we only crossed two roads but didn’t see any houses or man made structures. The only clue that I had was that the airplane had an old GPS that listed its latitude and longitude. If we could find some aeronautical charts in the plane cockpit, we might be able to figure out our position on the chart with the GPS readings.
The starting GPS coordinates at the Marijuana Farm were N32.25.10 and W116.44.36 and the present landing coordinates were N 32.33.14 and W116.47.12. We found a chart on the plane and approximated that we were about 30 miles southeast of Tijuana and just south of the border. If we kept walking north we might run into a border fence. Hopefully with some luck we might be spotted by U.S. Helicopters or cameras or flying drones patrolling the fence and not by local Mexican Police. We still couldn’t trust the local police in this area of Mexico.
We grabbed a water jug from the plane and started walking north. After a few minutes we heard some movement over a hill and slowly crawled to the top to take a look. There was a small group of about ten people led by a man wearing hiking boots and dressed in an army jacket with a baseball cap. There were men, women and children in the party.
We were tempted to yell for help and join the group but I had second thoughts and told everyone to keep quiet and stay hidden. The group were probably illegal immigrants trying to cross the border. The leader is called a Coyote and extorts money from these poor people in the hope that he will guide them across the border and they will find a better life in the United States. However, many never survive the grueling journey and die along the way from disease, lack of water or accident.
Ed whispered quietly, “Maybe we should just follow them. Evidently the Coyote knows the way to the border”. I agreed and said, “That’s a good idea but let’s stay back out of site and keep watch from a distance”.
The group continued north crossing a stream and then a small meadow, disappearing into a wooded area. We walked carefully around the meadow so as not to be seen and then slipped into the woods listening for foot noise on dry leaves or loose branches. In a short time we heard a young child crying. We crouched down behind some trees and watched as the Coyote was scolding the mother to keep her child quiet or be left behind. The child continued to cry and the Coyote slapped the child hard and told the mother to stay here with her child and he would come back for them later. The group left the mother and child behind and disappeared in the woods ahead. We knew that the Coyote would never return. However, the mother stayed put and tried to quiet the child. In a short time the child stopped crying and the mother continued to walk north hoping to stay quiet and catch up with the group later.
That made it difficult for us now since we might lose sight of the main group and follow the mother and child going in a wrong direction. However, we continued to move north and in a short time we could see a barbed wire fence that had been cut where the Coyote had gone through as well as the mother and child. This must be the border fence between Mexico and the U.S. . . . We knew the group was close because we could hear commotion in the distance.
We quietly went through the fence and in a short distance saw a dirt road and a large truck parked. The immigrants were sitting inside the back of the truck. The Coyote gave the driver something in a bag which was probably money and then they locked the back of the truck with the people inside. God knows how long they will ride in the truck and to what American city they will be dumped. If they survive the truck ride with no air, they will have to find help on the other end. The man got in the truck a drove away. The Coyote walked back in the woods toward us and we hid on the ground behind some trees as he passed.
We remained quiet for several minutes until we were sure that the Coyote was gone. We then got up and walked quickly down the dirt road still heading north. In about a half mile we saw that the truck had been stopped by the American Border Police. The driver was arrested and in handcuffs along with all the immigrants. The police had called for a transport bus to carry the people back to the border and be processed with the Immigration Authorities. They would probably just be driven back to Mexico and a record kept of their illegal border crossing. Unfortunately, they would probably try again soon. Anything is better than the poverty that they face in Mexico, with the hope of a better life and a good job in the U.S.
We called to the police from the safety of the trees and shouted “We are Americans. Don’t shoot. We are coming out.” The police didn’t know if this was a trick and told us to put our hands in the air and quietly come out as they held guns and rifles pointed at us.
After a while we told the police what had happened in Tijuana and at the Marijuana Farm and along the trail with the Coyote. They then said that they believed us but would have to bring us to the border facility and verify our identities. Hopefully this was the end of our long ordeal and that our luck was about to change again, this time hopefully for the good.
They say that Potluck is a community dinner with everyone bringing something to eat and share. However, our “Pot Luck” can only be described as an assortment of good and bad luck which occurred on this “Pot” Shrouded Marijuana Merry-Go-Round in Mexico. Maybe that photo I took in Tijuana on the “Butt End” of the “Zonkey” was an omen.
Comments: (always welcome). Email to markryan82@comcast.net
Acknowledgements:
I would like to thank my Romeo friends for their colorful backgrounds and giving me the inspiration for my stories.
References:
NSTA Conventions
http://nstacommunities.org/blog/
Things to Do In San Diego
http://gocalifornia.about.com/cs/sandiego/a/sdtop10.htm
Death of Joseline – A immigrant along the Arizona Border
http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=124046778
Drug Wars in Mexico – 15,000 killings
http://www.npr.org/templates/story/story.php?storyId=122051789
Legalize Marijuana in Mexico
http://rawstory.com/blog/2009/08/mexico-legalizes-drug-posession/
Clinton Visits South America – Drug War (Big Pharma)
http://www.boston.com/news/world/latinamerica/articles/2010/03/06/clinton_urges_latin_america_to_tackle_drug_corruption/
Day Trip to Tijuana
http://gocalifornia.about.com/od/casdmenu/a/tijuana_day.htm
US Dept State – Info on Travel Outside the US
http://gocalifornia.about.com/gi/o.htm?zi=1/XJ&zTi=1&sdn=gocalifornia&cdn=travel&tm=16&gps=676_293_1436_699&f=20&su=p284.9.336.ip_p531.50.336.ip_&tt=2&bt=1&bts=1&zu=http%3A//travel.state.gov/travel/cis_pa_tw/cis/cis_970.html
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