Real Mexican food is in Texas

I have this list on my wall. Actually I have a couple of lists pinned up on the bulletin board. One list is titled things to do before I graduate. I have a month left, its time to start putting some X's next to the items. First thing that gets the cross mark, George Bush Museum. Anything to say? Not really, it is a museum and for the most part they bore me.

Texas, the largest state in the contiguous United States. A state home to three of the top ten cities in terms of population. A state that at one point was a nation itself. A state that just so happens to boarder Mexico. Mexico a place where the American dream lives and cheap tequila flows.

Mexico is only about a 5.5 hour drive. 5.5 hours for legal drinking age to be pretty much non existent. A short jaunt where you can buy chicklett bubble gum and talk the little Spanish you learned in high school. We are in Mexico, we need to eat Mexican food (but not drink the water). I learned something America does better than Mexico. Mexican food is like tex-mex but bland, one more chalk mark on the scoreboard for America.

We found a club where 8 bucks (10 talked down) could get you unlimited drinks. This club had several floors, and a basement were you could forgo the steps and take either the slide or one of two poles. The fireman in me always opted for the pole, except once where I had to give the slide a try. Upstairs they had an outdoor patio, where low and behold was another check mark waiting for the pencil. The mechanical bull. I've always wanted to ride one and what better place than Mexico. The first time I got on, I pretty much got off. It was harder than it looked and at 2 bucks I figured the bull won its match. Later that night maybe with the drinks talking to me or the my George Washingtons itching in my pockets I gave in. I did a lot better and rode it in true rodeo fashion with one hand raised in the air and a look of concentration on my face.

Other highlights include the power going off, meeting but not buying from Johnny the Mexican crack dearler, seeing an electric chair of sorts where if you can take the highest voltage you get your money back(it was closed, but still found it pretty shocking(no pun intended) that it existed). We ended the night at the Corona club where the opening scene of Desparado is filmed if anyone cared to know. An American girl came up to me and asked if I wanted to dance, and then apologized because she said I was in highschool. I said I'm 23 and she didn't believe it and wanted a look at my ID. With drivers liscense ready she was soon proved wrong and now wanted to dance. Lesson of the story: If you judge me by how I look you won't get your dance.

Crossing the Rio Grande late that night not only did I now have my rights as a United States citizen back, but also have a few more memories of my years at A&M. As James Taylor sings in one of his songs, "Oh, Mexico. It sounds so simple I just got to go." I now have and my pencil now rests on top my desk, freshly sharpened waiting for the next adventure for that fateful X.