The Road Trip and the Priest

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Trip Start Jun 11, 2005 Previous
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  Saltillo, Mexico
Saturday, June 11, 2005

So if you've read any of my stories before, you know I have this travel thing down. Everything falls into place for me, very little goes wrong, and I lead what I like to call "a charmed life." So this story may come as a bit of a surprise.

I hadn't made any definite plans as to how I was going to get to Mexico. I knew some buses ran from Austin to Monterrey and were only $40 or $50. From there I could get wherever I needed to go in the interior of Mexico for another $50 or so. Not bad. But 1) I didn't know where I was going to go to school yet, and 2) I didn't really want to spend $100. So I had been watching Craig's List. It's a web site with a ride-share board and you can get virtually anywhere if you're willing to catch a ride with whomever might be going your way. I had posted that I was looking for a ride to Mexico, that I would help drive, but that I didn't have much money. Oddly, I got no responses.

But one night I checked the site and a guy had just posted saying he was driving to Mexico (Guadalajara) and that he just needed help driving - no gas money, not a dime. I emailed him and he replied listing his bio as: a retired dean, a diabetic, a Democrat, and a Jesuit priest or something, and that he couldn't drive the whole way by himself because of health problems. He had just had a heart procedure in Austin and had some other issues. He asked some questions. I answered them and casually added that I was straight, which I include in all my emails. He asked to meet me for coffee before he agreed to the ride-share. I kind of felt the same way, so we met at Dobie and chatted for a while. He was talkative, but seemed nice enough. So we decided we'd leave Saturday morning, drive halfway, then the rest of the way Sunday. He said all I was responsible for was my lodging and half the tolls if I chose to take toll roads. He said this was because he always took the free roads. I'm cool with free roads. No worries.

So we left Saturday at noon. He wanted to drive first because he wanted to be driving when we crossed the border because he owned the car. He drove pretty slow and hugged the left lane, but nothing too obnoxious. But he talked. Constantly. There were no comfortable silences. There were no silences. He had a million stories to tell. Some of them were pretty interesting. He had met Dr. King and Bobby Kennedy. And I got to say a few words. He'd ask me some questions, but he was the kind of guy that only asked a question because he thought the answer would make a good segue for another one of his rants. If it didn't work, he'd just cut me off and tell some story anyway. He seemed like he hadn't had any human contact in a decade or so. I'd have felt sorry for him except I knew this wasn't true. He traveled a lot, had friends everywhere, talked to strangers without hesitance. He just loved to talk. I know some people just like the sound of their own voices. This guy thought his was a damn symphony. Plus I had begun to notice that he smelled a little funny. Like a mixture of old milk and baby powder.

But it was a free ride (which he kept reminding me of) so I couldn't be too annoyed. I was a bit put off that he seemed to make an extra effort to bring up potentially volatile subjects like politics and abortion and clergy marriage and how he saw a dead body on his way to Austin and hoped it was DeLay. Very Christian. But I stayed pretty quiet whatever he talked about. I'm a quiet kind of guy.

So the border crossing was troublesome. He was surprisingly unprepared considering he'd done this several times. He wanted to go see about a sticker for his car. He said he didn't think he needed one if he was there less than six months, but wanted to ask about it. He'd been to the office before, so it only took an hour and a lot of wandering to get there. Then we found out EVERYONE has to get a sticker to leave the border area. And so that took 2 hours because 114 people needed stickers and there were only 3 1/2 people working (the midget was terribly inefficient). So we rolled out of Nuevo Laredo just before dark, this time with me driving. I pushed the car up past 55 for the first time that day just to try to make up some time. This doesn't fit into the story here, but the guy (I hate to dignify him with a proper name, but it's Cliff) he liked to refer to me in the 3rd person. While telling a story he'd say things like, "I bet old Dane Phillips would have loved this place." Only that's not completely true, because most of the time he called me Dan.

So we drove through Mexico but were running well behind schedule. We decided we could only make Saltillo that night, which is a few hours into Mexico. He said there was a nice Holiday Inn there we could stay in. We? Holiday Inn? We also had to take a few toll roads because it was dark and we were running late. So I shelled out my half, maybe $10. Not a problem. I thought he'd wear out at some point and have to take a breath. But for a guy with heart problems he was a ball of energy. On and on and on and on. I mean the guy was only sixty something years old, how many stories could he have?

Well, this is dragging I know. I'll just say that I got suckered into the Holiday Inn, and somehow agreed to share a room. I was pretty sure he wasn't going to put something in my drink or try to crawl into bed with me. I paid $30 for my half of the room. I was getting a free ride to Mexico I told myself. Not a problem.

I'll fast-forward and say that he for some odd reason chose not to change in the bathroom. So I got to see a priest in his tighty whities. Not many men can say that. Young boys...yes. Men, not as much. I know, I know. Clergy molestation humor. Not cool. But I kid, because I care.

In case there's any misunderstanding, we're talking about 2 double beds here. So I managed to finally slip into an uneasy sleep. But you can be damn sure that I woke up ready to defend myself all 8 times he went to the bathroom that night.

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