So, on a day of liberty, and by myself (again…silly stupid me), I took a bus to the border and walked into the city of Tijuana to ‘see the sights’. And man, did I see the sights. Bars were full of scantily scad women dancing on floors, with beer bottles, doing their ‘thing’. You’ll have to use your imagination from here, for I won’t go into any detail of what was happening to those bottles. One bar had a donkey…and I won’t go anywhere near that observation either. Needless to say, I was getting my young mind educated as to the vileness of such places.
I don’t recall a lot of what I did or saw that day…and probably that is a good thing. I do remember not being afraid or concerned about being in Tijuana. Hind sight tells me I should have been. Reflecting back, I can only believe that; even then, before I ever came to know the Lord and His Saving Grace, that He provided Guardian Angels to oversee my wellbeing.
Anyway, the highlight of my Tijuana journey came to an end when a local man approached me and asked me if I wanted to buy a switchblade knife. I thought; ‘yeah, cool, I can do that’. He led me to a somewhat dark alley and asked for a certain amount of pesos (I recall it being equivalent to $5.00 US) for the switchblade. I gave him the money and we parted ways. Again, reflecting back, that situation could have turned out really bad for me. Stupid, stupid me.
So now, I had the dilemma of getting my brand new well made black switchblade back into the US. This knife was fast opening, no hesitation whatsoever, sharp and sturdy. Oh, I was so proud of my achievement. *sigh* I thought and thought about how I was going to conceal this illegal knife, so as not to get caught at the border. I remember being very concerned about being caught, but the desire to own this knife and to get it back to the ship was too strong to heed my inner warnings. Oh how the Lord must have been looking down upon me and shaking his head…saying, ‘My dear child, what is it going to take to wake you up?’ ‘Angels, keep him safe, for he knows not what he does.’
Fortunately, I had worn cowboy boots that day and they became a blessing, so to speak. In those days, if you were a smoker, you couldn’t display your pack of cigarettes openly, so the main carrying place was in your sock so they were not seen. So I stuck that 6 inch switchblade down inside my right boot, left side of my leg as deep as I could and put my cig pack inside my right sock, left side. Yeah…I thought I was sooooo clever. I was now ready to approach the border and cross over.
I get to the entrance and a Mexican guard stopped me and asked me if I had any fruits, vegetables, etc., I was bringing back. I said ‘no’. He then asked if I had any kind of contraband on me. Again, I said ‘no’. He had me hold out my arms as he checked my clothes, pockets, etc. I remained calm outwardly, but was panicking inside. I forced myself to remain even calmer and acted as though I didn’t have a care in the world. And then, he checked my left leg, squeezing my calf, my boot top and all the way down to my ankle on both sides. He then started to do the same on my right leg…where my hidden treasured illegal contraband would send me to some desolate, filthy Mexican jail with who know what kind of others. ***remain calm, remain calm*** He squeezed my right calf and moved down to the top of my right boot on the inside and…felt my pack of cigarettes. He stopped, looked me in the eyes and asked; “What is that under your pant leg?” I replied, with as calm, cool and collected voice I could and said; “Oh, that’s just my cigarettes, do you want me to take them out and show you?” The guard said; “Just lift up your pant leg and show me”. I did…and lo & behold, he saw my cigs and said; “Okay…go on through.” He NEVER squeezed my boot down to the ankle. I started walking, and that darn switchblade started rubbing against my ankle bone, causing extreme pain. Don’t limp, don’t limp…just keep walking. I made it to the US side…to safety and got to a place where I could readjust my knife and caught the bus back to the ship.
I’ve reflected back on this episode of stupidity so many times over the years and still give Thanks to God for watching out for me. Sure…maybe it was just dumb luck, maybe it was all about the way I controlled ‘me’ during that moment. But for me, there are no ‘what if’s’…and one day I’ll truly know exactly just how much protection a young ignorant silly boy was provided…just to bring back a Tijuana switchblade knife.
I kept that switchblade for the next 40 years as a reminder of how innocent something can be, and the actions taken, that could have led to a world of hurt, pain and misery. I no longer have that switchblade…don’t even know for sure what happened to it. I may have just thrown it away.
Thanks for taking the time to read through this dissertation about a young buck seaman who, at the time, acted like he didn’t have a lick of sense. Some day, I’ll relate the story of how a homosexual, self-proclaimed warlock picked up an innocent young buck seaman at the front gate of Long Beach Naval Station in his liberty whites and took him barhopping. Yep…the Lord was with me then, too…but of course, I didn’t have a clue at the time.
I've been to Tijuana when I was stationed in San Diego. Yes it was a real eye opener. I think that if that Mexican cop would have found your knife you could have bribed him with those cigarettes. ftd