It was supposed to be a simple ride home. Well, not home of course, but my friend Renato’s house. My buddy Chris was driving me there after he and I had spent an hour watching high school kids on spring break act like idiots at Senor Frogs, and I was asking him about the Mexican police. “I`ve never had a problem with the police,” he said, turning into the driveway of Renato’s house, “But Renato told me that if you run into them, you just have to apy them off.” At that moment, I kid you not, police lights came on. A cop pulled up to Chris and began speaking in Spanish. When Chris and I began staring at him blankly, he realized that we didn’t speak it, so he began screaming in heavily accented English, “You are going the wrong way!” Chris answered, “But we`re in a parking lot.” The cop shot back, “Do you want to go to the police station? Do you want to go to the police station?” Chris answered, “No sir, not at all.” He quickly reached for his wallet and grabbed a $5 bill. “Here you go.” The officer grinned. “Thank you,” he said, and drove off. Justice had been served cold-Mexican style. I would write a lot more, but the computer here at my hotel is extremely frustrating to use, because a bunch of the symbols on the keyboard have been smudged off, and the punctuation marks are not where they should be. Anyway, I am currently not in Cancun, but on the island of Cozumel, and I`m rewriting the script for the sea lion show. Tonight, I will be joining some of my friends for beers and tacos. I will write again soon. Take care-Johnny
