Woot, we’ve made it to our ultimate destination — the Bali Hai tiki
restaurant in San Diego. Diana is ordering a “Missionary’s Downfall”
while I drink a “Mr. Bali Hai”. Much rum abounds.
If anyone ever tells you that Tijuana is a fucking nightmare, listen to
that person. They are telling you the truth.
First, Mexico Highway 1 takes you through a really quality area of town
(true example: we had to make a quick lane change when one of the two
lanes was blocked by two vans full of federales with bulletproof vests
and machine guns, running into a building topped with looped barbed
Next: busiest border crossing in the world, and no signs. Though Diana
just corrected me; there *were* signs, they were just AFTER the exits.
I got us pretty lost, GPS notwithstanding.
Finally: Californians, you don’t know lane splitting until you’ve done
it up to a border crossing with literally 1″ to spare on either side,
*after* you’ve already folded in your mirrors. Oh, and with running
water coursing across the road (complete with Bots dots). And with
Tijuana border peddlers sharing the area between lanes with you,
whacking you with guitars and large platters bearing images of Christ.
Summary: Mexico good. Tijuana border crossing bad. Rum good.