would you travel 600 miles to see the incredible? I did...
The urban legend. Everybody’s heard of them, but no one really knows of anyone who’s ever been in one. Urban legends cover a large variety of topics… from murders to practical jokes to those flesh-eating monsters that hide underneath your bed at night, it seems society loves to create them and pass the stories on from generation to generation. Well, one summer I decided to chase a certain urban legend which has always fascinated me, and I thought I’d share my story with all of you.
The time: Summer 1994
The place: Ensenada, Mexico
The crew: Garrett, John, Paul, and me
Our mission: The illustrious donkey show
For those of you who don’t know, I’d say Ensenada is about 80 miles south of the U.S./Mexico border, give or take a couple. It’s got the reputation of being a touristy sort of area, but to me it just looked like Tijuana on a bad day… if you can imagine that. Now I’ve been in some pretty shady joints in my lifetime, but I have to admit that Ensenada could possibly be the most funked up place I’ve ever been in. As soon as we rolled up into our “hotel,” we knew this was going to be one crazy ass trip. The walls to the gated parking lot were about eight feet high, and there were shards of broken beer bottles cemented into the top of the walls to keep trespassers out. That’s some wild shit.
So we go on in and check into our hotel room, if that’s what you could call it. Place looked like it was decorated by a couple homeless guys off the street, and was probably cleaned by them too. The sick part was that there were 4 of us, and only 1 queen sized bed. So that meant two fools had to kick it on that nasty ass floor. Luckily paper rock scissors is my game, and when you up in my house you never win. Needless to say, I didn’t go out like a sucka.
There was also something else funky with the room. For some reason there was this hidden door in the back of the closet which led to the bathroom. Now I don’t know what the hell peeps down in Mexico use hidden doors for, but thank goodness there was four of us up in that room. You know what I’m sayin? Let’s just say four Asian guys kickin it deep in Mexican territory don’t exactly blend in with the locals.
One other thing about Mexico… don’t ever ever ever drink the water. Hell, you don’t even have to drink it to get sick. All you need to do is get that crap in your mouth and you’ll have the green apple splatters for like a week. When you’re down in Mexico, you drink bottled water, you brush your teeth with bottled water, you even wash your face with bottled water. And watch out for ice and soup and all that kind of stuff… it’s all diarrhea in disguise.
So after a carefully consumed dinner consisting of orange eggs and hot dogs (I kid you not!), we decided it was time to get our shit on. We headed out to a couple of clubs, checkin out the local establishments, and also droppin questions on where we might be able to find El Donkey Show. For those of you who don’t know what a donkey show is… hmm… how do I explain it? I guess the best way to phrase it, would be to say that a donkey show is when you go and pay money to watch a woman have sex with a donkey. Whoo hoo!
Now this is something that I’ve always wondered about since the first time I heard about it in high school. Questions a plenty zoom through my head when I try to picture this unholy act taking place. What position is she in? Does she have any outside support? How the hell does it fit in there? How long does it take a donkey to cum? You know… all kinds of deep philosophical inquiries that boggle one’s mind. But this was gonna be it… right here and now on this trip… I was gonna settle all these questions and have one kick ass story to talk about when I get back home. So with this as our ultimate goal, we continued on with our quest to become more cultural people.
After knocking back a couple of beers, tequilas, and other various alcohols, it became apparent to us that finding a donkey show would be harder than we expected. We thought we could just roll up in here and find a donkey going at it on every street corner, but alas it was not meant to be. We must’ve scoured every single inch of that city looking for some action, but everyone we talked to and asked didn’t know where we could find such a thing. Lying or just ignorant? We’ll probably never know.
A few frustrating hours passed and we was still doin our best Inspector Gadget imitation. Was this how we were gonna out? Travel all this way, battling jacked up roads, polluted water, and nasty ass orange scrambled eggs to be foiled once we got here? Nay I say! All this did was make us even more determined to find our Holy Grail. If no one down here was gonna give us what we wanted to see voluntarily, we’d just have to do things the American way… bribe em!
The only problem now was to find a shady looking cat that would dish out the 411. It took all of five minutes before some scummy looking dude that looked like he visited donkey shows on a regular basis passed by us. We stepped up to El Chico and initiated a conversation…
Us: Hey man. You know where there’s a donkey show going on?
Scummy Looking Dude: Que? Donkey?
Us: Yeah man. Donkey! You know…
SLD: Ahh… El Donkey Show! Si! Si! Cuantos?
I guess this fool knows how things is run or whatever, cause he knew we was down to pay him for intelligence before we even whipped our wallets out. We slipped our new homeboy a grand total of two bucks to show us where it was goin down, and we soon knew that we were about to watch bestiality in its finest.
Little did we know though, was how deep into enemy territory we had to travel to get there. Sure, everything is all good and relatively safe when we were kickin it in the “touristy” areas, but once we stepped foot outta the downtown area, things started getting a little bit too shady for my blood.
Our newfound guide led the way as we marched a good distance from the clubs, the glitz, and most importantly, the streetlights. The blackness creeped in on us as we continued on our way, all the time being eyed by the locals who no doubt wouldn’t mind stickin a shiv in us and robbin us for all of our American money. I think the only thing that protected us was that there were four of us. Anything less and we’d probably still be in Mexico laying on our stomachs and rotting in some cornfield or whatever. Scary shit down there.
Anyways… after walkin about a mile from where we first started off, Mr. Guide stopped and pointed us towards this rat hole of a building. The outside walls were supposed to be white in color, but who knows what shade of dirt they really were, and the numerous cracks and chips decorating it reminded us that this ain’t no Trump Tower. Eager to go inside but cautious all the while, we bid farewell to our trailblazer and ventured inside.
Once we stepped inside our “Donkey Taj Majal,” the smell of cigars and stank beer overwhelmed our senses. The inner walls were all painted a dark red, and the dim lighting inside kept the place dark. Dark enough for anyone to do basically whatever they wanted to do without prying eyes getting in the way. Naked senoritas, obviously prostitutes, were all over the joint sittin on the patron’s laps and givin them a little somethin somethin for their money. It reminded me of a scene out a movie. You know… when some fool that doesn’t belong walks into a room and all of a sudden the music stops playing and everyone has got both eyes locked down on you. Well, that was us.
“Fuck this,” I heard John say, and I was down with that too. I didn’t come to Ensenada to get the shit beat out of me, and I think everyone was pretty much in agreement until Garrett spotted something on the walls. With a swift movement of his finger, he pointed out to us a drawing on the wall, many drawings in fact. Curious with what he saw, we glared through the smoke until the sight of all sights filled our vision, a crude illustration of a woman holding a donkey by the leash.
“Alright!” I thought to myself, “This is it! Finally I’m gonna see this shit!” At that moment, all worries of living and being safe left my body, and it must’ve been like that with my other three compadres also, cuz right then and there, we knew we were gonna kick it here for awhile. Slowly and quite politely I might add, we made our way to the back of the bar and sat down at a small table in sheer obscurity. Aw yeah… it was only a matter of time now.
A waitress came by our table and took our order for drinks. I don’t know what she was thinking, but I really doubt that she waits on a table filled up with Asians on a frequent basis. Thank goodness beer comes in bottles and not on tap… who knows what they would’ve slipped in our drinks if they weren’t.
So we’re loungin and drinkin and waitin… and waitin… and waitin… and about thirty minutes pass and nothin is goin down. Frustrated, we order more drinks and hang out hoping for some quality entertainment to pass our way, but it just doesn’t seem like any action is gonna happen. After about an hour and a half of being pissed off and drunk, I spot an amiable looking chico sittin down at the table next to us. It doesn’t look like he’s carryin a knife or anything, so I decide to tempt fate and fire up a short conversation with him…
“Ay umm… you know if there’s a donkey show goin on tonite?” I ask him VERY politely.
“Eh? No donkey show here. No donkeys,” he replied back like I was nuts.
Arrrghhh! That was the only thing that could go through my head at that moment. That fool could’ve been lying to us, but why the hell would he lie? No… I think he was right. There was no donkey show goin on, at least up in this joint. So with a feeling of disappointment growing in our bellies, we paid our bill, got up from the table, and started our slow walk back to Ensenada. Not only did we waste half the night lookin for our urban legend, but that scummy little dude ripped us off two bucks! Most of the conversation on the way back involved coming up with different ways to take two dollars off that dude’s hide, but luckily we didn’t see him again. Who knows what people will do when they’re drunk?
So basically our trip was a bust. I’m not sayin that I didn’t have a good time in Ensenada, but everything we did down there, we could’ve done in Tijuana for cheaper. And no donkey show to boot! Bah… it was still a good trip. How can I complain about getting drunk every night and kickin it with some good friends? I’m so sentimental…
Now I’m not sayin that donkey shows don’t exist, but to this day I’ve never found one. Will that stop me from looking? No. And believe you me, I will find one before my lifetime is over. And if I don’t, I’ll figure out how to stage one somehow. This is something that I must see, in order to fulfill my destiny of becoming a true TSO. There’s gotta be one out there in a small little corner of the world hidden from prying eyes. If there isn’t, how do these donkey show rumors start anyways? It’s gotta be out there somewhere… doesn’t it?