You will find short stories on this site. Most are autobiographical. Some are fiction.

TIJUANA CROSSING

Towards the end of Winter term at Mexico City College, I saw a note on the student bulletin board. On it was written, “Share gas to San Diego”. I immediately called the phone number. I had no desire to repeat the two-day long journey on a 2nd class bus back to the US, and I could not afford anything else. On my last day of classes, I packed my backpack, bid a sad adios to Patra e Chrisanta, and walked up the street to catch the Rocket. After my last, class I rode it back to the city where I caught a bus to the intersection where I was to meet my ride to San Diego. Standing at the same corner, were two 6-year-old boys. On the sidewalk, in front of them, was a box of baby rabbits. While talking with them, I picked up the most colorful of the tiny fuzzy balls. It had brown, white, and gray fur. “Uno Peso”, the boy asked holding out his hand. He wanted only a peso, 12 cents US, for this bunny. I gave the boy a peso, and tucked the tiny conejo under my shirt. It was not the first time I had done something stupid because the object was adorable. The bunny seemed to like being in the warm den between my t-shirt and buttoned shirt.

Shortly after I made my ill-advised purchase, a car pulled up to the curb. It was a convertible with the top down. A slightly flaccid-looking man was at the wheel and two attractive young women were sitting in the back seat. I presumed that we were all Winter term students returning to the US. The driver introduced himself as John. I said, “I’m Tod”. The girls introduced themselves, as Samantha and Jessica. I put my backpack in the trunk and climbed into the front passenger seat. We were off on the two-day trip to San Diego. The girls were friends but they didn’t know either John or myself. John was an outgoing and jovial young man. I concluded that it was going to be a pleasant trip. And perhaps one of the girls would take a liking to me. But from the start, they remained aloof. Once we were out on the highway, I pulled the rabbit out of my shirt. It entertained us by doing back flips on the floorboards of the car. We named it ‘Flipper”.

That evening we had dinner before going to our separate hotel rooms. At dinner, John revealed that he had contracted a rare, drug-resistant, form of gonorrhea and was going to San Diego for medical treatment which he desperately hoped would cure it. “Otherwise,” he said “I will not be able to have children.” This revelation of his disease put a damper on any hopes of romance on this trip.

After the second day of driving, we reached the border crossing. I tucked Flipper under my shirt. The border guard asked the usual questions after which he started his examination of the vehicle with the trunk. When he was done with the trunk, he moved forward to inspect the passenger compartment. Flipper was moving around under my shirt. I feared my large and active stomach may attract attention so, as I was closing the trunk, I slyly tucked Flipper in the back corner of the trunk behind my backpack.

After completing his examination of the passenger compartment, the inspector said, “I would like to see something more in the trunk.” No one knew that I had stuck Flipper in there. The trunk was opened. I was standing behind the inspector. From there, I could plainly see flipper’s little head and large ears over the bags. He was motionless except for his little nose, which was twitching as he sniffed the air. The inspector was intent on finding something behind the latch of the trunk. He dug around there for a very long time, with out looking up, . Eventually he stepped back saying “ You may pass through”. He walked away. I reached in and returned Flipper to his hiding place under my shirt and closed the trunk.

We drove into the USA. After a bit, I told the others of our close call with Flipper in the trunk. The girls responded with gasps and twitters. John, said nothing. His reaction was out of character. We had driven away from the border into the outskirts of SanDiego when I asked why he was suddenly become so quiet. He did not answer right away. Then he said “I have a 45 and drugs hidden in this car. If that inspector had seen that damn rabbit he would have carefully examined the car, found my stash, and we all would have wound up in jail.” I later came to the realization that John had probably not been a student. I came to think it was more likely that he was a drug smuggler using the two young women and me as cover to have safe passage through the border with his contraband.

From San Diego I took a Greyhound bus to Portland. Flipper made the trip in my shirt. The middle aged woman sitting next to me on the bus, kept glancing at my pulsating stomach. She didn’t ask and I didn’t tell her that it was Flipper not some bizarre disease which convulses my abdomen.

It was Easter weekend when Flipper and I reached Portland. I presented him to my sister, Julia, and her two small children as an Easter present. Flipper eventually took up residence in a dense tangle of Ivy which covered a stone wall in their back yard. Every evening, one of the children would take rabbit food out on the back porch and call. Flipper would eagerly run up to them for his dinner.