March ended in an angry tone.
It took me more than two days to let my anger go. I’m still pretty angry.
March was busy in general. I also got sick again. The weather has been weird.
My memory sucks. I can barely remember what I did the whole month.
I had another Tijuana Adventure related to the border prototypes. This time they came from New Zealand to film a news report. And at the same time, a bestseller investigative writer from New York came with. The tour ended early. But I am humbled to meet such important people and that they reached out to me to guide them.
Workwise, more cover photos.
March started with the music cover.
I got to meet Rossi Rock and take his picture. I also caught Rob $tone again. It was a good show.
Later that night, I met a dude that went to college with me in Star Bar. He was my neighbor freshman year and I remember he helped me out when I first arrived there. Nice guy. But we have nothing in common.
Then my friends from Minnesota that I actually have shit in common with came for a week!
My white boys!
Pete, Code, and Wood.
Pete’s been living in the Bay Area and wanted to check SoCal as another possibility in life. Code and Wood just came along for the ride. Wood has been in SD and Tijuana on a couple of occasions before.
So I took a mini-vacation from my life. Except I couldn’t. Because I fucked it up and didn’t realize I needed the music pictures before taking a mini-vacation.
They accompanied me for a bit to take care of my work. Took pictures of jazz kids. They were amazing. And it was in Balboa Park, so they had to check it out anyway.
Then we went to The Balboa. Pete loved this place. Followed by Star Bar (again).
And Star Bar is fantastic!
I ended up crashing with them at the Airbnb they rented out in South Park. Nice little cottage. Expensive as fuck.
Next night, I had more music pictures to take care off. I spent the day with them, but at night, I headed to The Merrow. Mother fucking Kirby Dream Land was playing.
Chad went with me.
And what a fucking fantastic show.
I was a fan before seeing them live. And seeing them arrive at the bar casually. I was excited.
And mother fucking Brozo was there was well.
Brozo and Chad and video game music cover band. Fucking spell paradise for me. Those are the two coolest guys around.
Kirby Dream Band was fantastic. I hummed like an idiot to all their songs. Later I realized I was fucking annoying and probably pissed off other concert goers.
Chad got me tequila shots. Those fucked me up.
We ended the night getting late night burritos. I went back to my white boys at their little cottage and brought Code half a burrito.
They also had their own adventure night.
The following morning I went back to Tijuana to edit and send the pictures.
I was going back to San Diego, but too tired. I waited for them since they were coming the following morning.
Fucking white boys arrived super fucking hungover. Beyond hungover.
Took them to La Cevicheria Nais. Code looked like he was about to throw up.
Left them at their Tijuana Airbnb. A nice little place that used to be a coffee shop by my brother’s house. Cheap as fuck.
I told them that two nights in TJ would have been better, but they didn’t listen. TJ is so much cheaper.
After their nap, it was party time. Another Minnesotan girl was visiting my friends Stu and Mael, the party grew larger with more Americans, including the southerner Martin. Bobby joined the party as well.
And I went to Tropics for the first time in YEARS.
It wasn’t bad. There weren’t that many people there. It didn’t stink of drugs. Cigarette smoke wasn’t at outstanding levels.
Still. Fuck that place.
We followed it by going to a punk show by Perdición. And out of nowhere, Pete slipped on a pile of bloody dead meat. That pile came out of nowhere. He slipped cartoonishly like if he stepped on a banana peel.
It has to give you a poor experience just to fuck with you. I have no idea what that pile of meat was. It looked fucking disgusting.
The punk show was great but very loud. White boys were tired. We skedaddled out of there and called it a night.
At some point in all this mess… I lost my fucking SENTRI.
I already ordered a new one, but it hasn’t arrived. And the old one was found…
The boys went back to San Diego for a couple of days. Their new Airbnb in North Park wasn’t as lenient as the one in South Park. I was going to visit them, but decided against it.
I forgot what kept me busy.
Then. More work. Cover story pictures. I had a mission at Mission Beach.
I got there by bus. It sucks.
But I met the people I needed to meet. I got a free old-fashioned that was fantastic. Then got a free Cubano and a beer at Miss B’s.
I took a lot of pics at Miss B’s. They set it all up for me. Cute girls enjoying a $100 dollar drink…. they barely used the pictures.
I guess they didn’t fit the narrative. But how was I supposed to know!?
I also saw Slo-Mo.
I felt like I was way busier… but I wasn’t?
I have no idea.
One Sunday I took pictures of grilled chicken by Luis.
It was as good as it looks.
I didn’t play as much guitar as I should. I didn’t play guitar almost at all.
I didn’t take as many pictures as I should have.
I took care of some jobs in San Diego real quick. Two for upcoming stories that haven’t been published. One for a story that published this week.
And I also got published twice.
One about the death of Maria Luisa. I used to see her daily. I knew something was wrong a couple months ago when I noticed she wasn’t where she usually was. Then it was confirmed. Maria Luisa has gone to heaven.
The other was one that I wrote before, but because of a mess in the office, it got lost. But finally, it got published.
Oh, and a story that I wrote months ago also got published.
So…yep. A bunch of work.
And more tours.
This time, a reality show about a commercial pilot looking for love on Tinder. I signed a non-disclosure agreement, so I can’t say much. But it was fun. Very rockstarish. We walked on Avenida Revolución followed by two cameras and a boom mic.
When that shit airs… and if Tijuana people see it. I’m going to get a lot of crap.
And to end March with the angry note.
The very angry note…
Another reality type show came to town and they hired me to be the tour guide for three days. I lasted around 3 hours with them.
In the emails, they weren’t specific about what they wanted. Also, the person that contacted me in the email didn’t even fucking come on the tour.
It was fishy from the start. It started to get better. Then it all went to shit.
Again. I signed a non-disclosure agreement, so there’s not much I can say. These guys came from Hollywood and communication was not good.
Their personas didn’t inspire me.
I had to sign the agreement before they even told me what the fuck they were doing.
When they told me, they were asking for a VERY tall order. And parts of the order I didn’t really agree with. They had a vision, and I felt like that vision was wrong. I told them, they dismissed me.
But it was fine. Nothing I couldn’t handle. It was going to be bullshit, but it was going to be money at the end.
The main actor stayed in the hotel. That’s when I thought “these guys don’t give a shit about the city.”
And then it all broke down at Teléfonica.
The director/producer told me he rather go to mother fucking Chili’s. He saw that it was nearby. Said he was afraid of the food in Teléfonica because of food poisoning. THE PLACE WAS FUCKING PACKED. And like always, half the people were American. I would suspect that a few people were from Los Angeles. It’s rated by the fucking New York Times.
Told him that if he was serious, the tour was over. He said he was serious and he saw nothing wrong with it. I told them I wasn’t their tour guide and left livid.
Left them there to fend for themselves. They are big boys. They seemed terrified of the city, but fuck them. I told them often times that Tijuana is just like East LA, fucker wanted it to make it seem like it was Syria.
Only the driver seemed cool. The main actor also seemed cool but out of it. The camera guy and director were the douchebags. Hollywood elitism. The smugness was real.
I forgot the name of the show they were filming and I don’t give a shit. I googled and searched the company that sent me the non-disclosure agreement and I can’t find dick about them.
Now that I write it all again, I’m still livid.
I haven’t been this angry since an incident two years ago where a “friend” wanted to destroy my career. That was offensive.
This was also offensive.
Seriously. Fuck them.
I wonder what they did with the two days that they were supposed to be here with my help…
I was still nice enough to give them ideas of what they should do with the show. I wrote a very nice email kindly saying to fuck off and telling them what they should. I didn’t accept any money from them. But seriously, fuck them. They came here to say Tijuana is trash and dangerous and they wanted my help with that. My tours are COMPLETELY the opposite. I will help anyone on my tours, but not Hollywood douchebags who eat at fucking Chili’s.
FUCK this fucker who rather eat at CHILI’S!
I still find that incredibly offensive. I still can’t wrap my mind around the concept of visiting a new city, being afraid of it, then wanting to eat at Chili’s when there are so many marvelous options.
I’m not your guide. Fuck off.
I’m not going to take someone to fucking Chili’s.
So fucking offensive.
If you like Chili’s. I have nothing against you. You just have shitty taste. And don’t you dare hire me as a tour guide and then ask you to take you to Chili’s.
Ok. Let the anger go.
I got angry again just thinking about it. I need to relax.
Anyone, that ruined my plans for my last days in March and now I’m stuck doing nothing.
April is coming at me strong.
I’m looking at buying a car soon. I’ve been getting a lot of work. I have a paid wedding next weekend. And I still haven’t been able to go to Mexicali.
Until next time kiddos.