RECON – Mexican Horror Stories

Mexican Horror Stories

Pat Maus
Some friends and I went down to Mexico a long time ago when I was just a grommet. The waves were super shitty so we decided to get a couple 40s of beer. We were only eighteen or so and so we thought we were rippin’ because we were able to buy beer in Mexico. We pulled over on one of these side streets to pound them real quick before we went across the U.S. border.

Mid chug, we looked over and saw three cops running over to our car, surrounding us with their guns out. Two of my grommet buddies and I were frozen solid, looking at these guys psyching out on us with their guns. They pulled us out of the car, sat us down, and handcuffed us. There were American tourists driving by tripping out, just looking at us.

One of my friends spoke fluent Spanish-thank god. I brought two boards with me and my other friends only brought one each-so there were four boards and three guys. The first thing the head cop said when they got us down was, “Why four boards with only three guys?”

My friends said, “He brought two.”The cop then said, “Oh okay. You know what? Sixteen days in jail, or you give me the surfboard.”I said, “Yeah right, buddy. You ain’t gettin’ my board.”My friends started psyching out on me. They were so pissed off: “You’re giving him your board right now! If my dad catches me in a Mexican jail, he’s gonna kill me!”

After a few threats from those guys, I ended up saying, “All right, I’ll give you the board.”[IMAGE 1]As I walked to the car, the cop was trying to be low-key: “You take the surfboard off and put it in the back of the police car.” I was so angry that I grabbed it, looked at the guy, and punched a big hole in the belly of the board. He didn’t even care. I put the board in the back of the car, and he was smiling at me the whole time. They took the handcuffs off my friends, we all stood up, they gave us our beers back, and the other two cops drove off. The head cop stayed behind. He walked right up to my face, gave me a shaka, and said, “Later, dudes.”

Then to top it all off, on the way home we were cruising down the freeway, psyching out, so pissed off at what just happened, and there’s this guy on the freeway who looks just like the Greatest American Hero a 70s show. He had the biggest blonde afro-to the tee. Just being the fun-loving grommets we were, we mooned him. He didn’t appreciate it at all, and he told us to pull over.

To make a long story short, we pulled over and the guy ended up frickin’ pullin’ a gun on us, sayin’, “You guys all sit down. I’m a cop.” Actually, he was in front of the car holding a gun at my friend, the driver. My friend’s revving the engine, yelling, “Get the f-k out of the way.”

I’m going, “Dude, stop the car!” It was so heavy. The Greatest American Hero got us all out of the car and sat us down. Then the highway patrol came-like eight of them. They ended up letting us go and apologized for their guy psyching out so hard on us.

Jason Bennett
On this one Mex trip, we were coming back through the border in my friend’s van-there were like ten of us. We were going through the checkpoint, when one of the guards asked, “Is this the van? Is this the van?” We were tripping out, and the next thing we know, there were canine units-you name it-every one of the border-patrol officers came over, pulled all their guns on us, and yelled “Get the f-k out of the car! “

They handcuffed every one of us and threw us against the van. Next thing we know, we’re brought straight into the interrogation room. They had every one of us separated for an hour, telling us we were all going to jail. We had no idea what was going on, and this guy with us was lipping off-it was getting pretty nuts, and we had no idea what was going on. Next thing we knew, they’re saying, “Okay, guys. You’re free to go.” We asked what happened, and the agents told us that somehow our van was mistaken for a drug van.

[IMAGE 2]

Rusty LongThere were lots of people down there, and the waves looked fun so we paddled out. I could tell people were watching when we were changing so I didn’t want to stash the key in my car ’cause I thought someone would just come over and grab it and take off with my car or something. Noah was telling me to leave the door unlocked and leave the keys in the car, but I didn’t because we had a bunch of shit in there.

So I went out, changed on the beach, and put our stuff in a spot where I could see it. We went surfing, and after twenty minutes, we saw somebody run up and grab my bag off the beach. I was keeping an eye on it ’cause I had a weird feeling something was gonna happen like that. I paddled in right when I saw the guy grab it.

Noah and I ran up, and the guy had walked back to his group of buddies-we had to walk over and confront them. They were in group of about twenty guys, and there was just two of us. We had go up and say, “Hey, I saw you take my bag.” He ended up giving it back to us because he knew we saw them. I think they were trying to get a little handout somehow, anyway. The bottom line is we got the bag back and got out of there, but it would’ve been really sketchy if my van had gotten stolen-it was new at the time, packed with boards, wetsuits, and lots of other important stuff.

Nathan Yeomans
It happened about five years ago, and I remember I was freaking out about it. We were surfing K-38-and-a-half, right past K-38s a spot 38 kilometers past the American border. We were camping for the weekend, and it was Sunday morning-everyone else had left Saturday night. We woke up at 6:00 a.m., and there was no one left around. So while we we’re packing up our stuff, these two Mexican guys started cruising up along the cliff to the campsite. We thought they’d ask us for money for parking there. One guy walked straight toward my buddy Nate and I.

He pulled out a pistol and puts it right at me and my buddy’s head. On the other side of the campsite was my buddy Scott and my dad. Another guy pulled out a double-barrel shotgun and pointed it at Scott’s stomach, and my dad was the only one who really spoke any Spanish. My dad told them it was all right and gave them our money.

My dad told them to leave us alone and that we’d do anything they wanted. They made us all get on the ground and put our hands behind our heads. After that, they took our money and Scott’s keys. Luckily, they didn’t take my dad’s keys. They got in Scott’s car and were starting to take off, when the guy in the back of the car with the shotgun leaned out the door and aimed his gun at us-I thought for sure he was going to shoot us, but he didn’t.[IMAGE 3] My dad then told us to get in the car. We got in his old Chevy and drove to the policia station. We arrived at seven in the morning, and they made us wait there until nine o’clock, ’cause they weren’t open ’til nine-it was pretty much a joke. My dad thought the robbers were cops ’cause they had super nice guns. I took a three-year break from going to Mexico up until about a year ago-sketchy.

Josh Sleigh
Back when I was twelve or thirteen, we used to always go down to Rosarita a coastal city south of Tijuana. I had my little YZ-60 Yamaha motorcycle, and my dad was on a three-wheeler. We were riding down the beach-I guess we weren’t allowed to. The federales flagged us down, pulled us over, and then put a gun to my dad’s head. My told me to go back and get my mom.So I raced back and got my mom. We jumped in our Chevy Blazer and wheeled the thing down the beach. We pulled up and they said, “We’re not letting your dad go unless you have … “-I forgot what it was at the time-500 or 600 bucks.My mom and I had to drive back across the border to a bank, pull out cash, and then we headed back. It took like six hours.We showed up back where my dad was being held hostage. One of the banditos appeared to be riding my dad’s three-wheeler. The guy jumped on it, didn’t know how to ride, and then flipped it. It rolled over on him, so he was all pissed off at my dad. To make a short story shorter, we gave him the money, and they just let my dad go.pulled up and they said, “We’re not letting your dad go unless you have … “-I forgot what it was at the time-500 or 600 bucks.My mom and I had to drive back across the border to a bank, pull out cash, and then we headed back. It took like six hours.We showed up back where my dad was being held hostage. One of the banditos appeared to be riding my dad’s three-wheeler. The guy jumped on it, didn’t know how to ride, and then flipped it. It rolled over on him, so he was all pissed off at my dad. To make a short story shorter, we gave him the money, and they just let my dad go.