Coffee cans played a major role in a road trip to Tijuana, Mexico. When Folgers came out with their one gallon cans, it set a new trend in date night to the Long Bar.
It took a pretty savvy and opened minded girl to head to TJ and bar hop with her boyfriend. Most only went there one time because it was just plain disgusting. Men’s toilets were bad enough, but the restrooms for girls had zero privacy and had no attendant who would sell them bun wad, or splash on cheap perfumed so you wouldn’t walk out smelling like the burrito some girl just puked into the toilet next to yours.
One of the biggest drawbacks was waiting at the border to cross back into the U.S. At 2-3am on a Saturday night the wait could be as long as several hours. Many a car over heated, so it was common to see steam bellowing out from under the hoods. Or guys and girls pushing cars to save on gas or trying to prevent the over heating.
However, the need to pee after consuming many gallons of green beer was the problem, especially when it was date night. A guy trip it was okay, all they did was stick Mr. Wiggle in some container, let loose, then roll down the window and empty the container while waiting in line. No problema.
It was pretty funny looking down the long lines and every once in a while an arm would stick out, and shake the last drop out and the constant splash when tires rolled over puddles of pee or in some cases chunky puddles of an even mixture of regurgitated, stale beer, tequila, street tacos and burritos.
Back in the original Meda days, the cars were not these tinny, compact pieces of shit, where ones knees would be cramped up into ones chest sitting in the back seat. They had room, and lots of it. So when the gallon coffee can came out, girls had a nice porta potty. for their adventure down south. They literally could place the can on the floor board, some chick would make sure none of the guys would watch and she’d let loose. When done, they were a bit more casual and secret about dumping their pee. The can also provided a wide opening to puke in. It was not lady like to just stick the head out the window, as the guys did.
Usually they waited until the car was going about ½ mile an hour, open the door and slowly pour it out, thinking that no one would notice. That way, they were sure not to step in it, if the car started to overheat and their services were required to help that 1964 4-door Ford sedan that your parents thought you were going to the Clairmont Bowling Alley.
However, there were always those that would hold it until their faces turned blue, and looked like they were going to explode. As soon as they passed immigration/customs, the first stop was a Denny’s like 24/hr diner called, Sambos, just 100 yards away. Sambos had a sign, “Restrooms for Customers Only,” and made a ton of money on selling ten cent coffee and/or a soda pop to go.
Unfortunately some just could not hold it, and you were riding home with a pee smell in your car. The smell you could handle, it was explaining to your parents of how it got there became the problem.
Those who knew the routine (ex girl scouts, so they were prepared) would slip in a roll of bun wad in their purse and lots of perfume.
Even to this day, bar hopping in TJ on date night was the answer to the age-old question, Why is it that pairs of girls always go to the restroom together?
Answer is simple, One to guard the door, the other to do her thing.
When three girls went, you just knew the restrooms were bad, one guarded the door, the other helped the one straddle the toilet as the other did her thing – a girl thing and tradition that continues to this day.
Tags: idiots drunks dirtbags, mac-tales, Mexico
Posted in Bars, Mexico | 3 Comments »