As a college sophomore, my friends and I decided to take one of those cut-rate, spring break student trips on a train to Puerto Vallarta, Mexico — back when it was still safe to take such excursions. The drive from Los Angeles to Mexicali, MX gave some insight into what the trip was to be like — wild, drunken and gritty. Once we boarded the “hell train south”, things began to become more than a bit surreal.
While I had enjoyed my share of wild adventures by that point in my life, those spring-break junkets to Mexico were nothing more than drunken sex fests. While my three (male) friends I was traveling with were generally more conservative than I, they all jumped in with both feet on our way down south and began to party hard. I sensed a need to throttle back and I did – at least one of us had to keep our wits about ourselves in this foreign land.