One day I woke up with a dislocated ankle in Oceanside, California. The left foot was swollen like a big fat balloon. To put weight on it was agony. The ice pack had melted over night and soaked the end of the bedsheets. The severe abnormal separation of my ankle felt like a continuous steal hammer pounding heavily onto my foot. How did Jesus cope with the torturous pain when he was crucified to the wooden cross? I had felt some relation to it and screamed,"God, my savour, help me now! I can not bear the pain any longer! I want this misery to end!" I can not remember the last time I went to church nor prayed to the lord for forgiveness. One of my housemates entered into my room wide eyed. He lit up a fat doobie and the scent was strong. He puffed on it a few times and let out the cloud of smoke that floated across the room before he reached over and passed it to me."Amgio, you need it more than I do." He seemed sincere most likely due to my unbearable, excruciating pain. We had only known each other for a month. "Amigo, no insurance aqui, no flight to home. Vamos en Mexico amigo." He paused for a second and kept his eye on the bifter as I took in a big toke and passed it back to him,"Mexico fix you good amigo, for good price. We drive you there. Vamos." His plan seemed logical. Health care in the United States was unaffordable. "Road trip. Vamos mate" I said very uncomfortably and hoped that this was god's answer to end my suffering.
Three young men headed south on the 905 highway from San Diego to Beja California; a young talented skater from Montana, a Mexican kitchen hand from Mexico City and one uncomfortable dislocated Australian. We left the birth place of skateboarding and made our way towards a very dangerous territory: Tijuana. God help us all that we make it out alive. Crossing the country was a long wait. Cars were bumper to bumper. We moved at a snails pace. The walkways were full of people, moving faster than the cars. I hated them, they were able to walk and I couldn't even stand on my own two feet. The Mexican border portal had observed our passports and Randy's blue faded car registration papers. They saw me in the back seat, sitting awkwardly sideways. They order to me to lift the towel wrapped in ice packs off my foot. They were not surprised to see my ankle sticking out of its natural position, "No es bueno señor" said the large officer who had a fat moustache in a dark uniform with the Mexican flag on his left shoulder. We filled in the FFM form and paid the entry the fee; twenty American dollars. We exchanged our papers for our stamped documents and the officer waved us to move forward and we rolled over the thick white line. "Bienvenido a México" José said cheerfully.
The streets of Tijuana were surrounded by hills with houses resting on the slopes under the hot Mediterranean weather. Most building on the main roads were almost identical set apart by mixed painted colours on the walls. Beautiful women everywhere. It was a damn shame that our road trip was not to enjoy an adventure. Randy and José knew the roads, they had been here before, maybe many times before. Within the hour after crossing the boarder, we parked the car in a lot, facing a small three-storey clinic. "This don't look like a hospital" I said with confusion."It's gonna be alright. I have been here before and they fixed me good" Randy said with midwestern accent. I put my arm around José and my other arm around Randy and hopped my way towards the faded white rectangle building.
Waited, waited and waited for hours in a grey chair filled with people with all sorts of situations that needed to be looked after by heroes in a white coat. A man sat across from me, shirtless and covered in tattoos, bleeding profusely into a hand clutching his open chest wound, stock still and staring straight ahead. A new born babies cry echoed through the corridors. A woman, who sat not far from us had her head down to her knees, holding her stomach uncomfortably. Randy and José fiddled with their phones. When my name was called and I was taken into the x-ray room, then afterwards I was directed to a small room with a bed and waited again for a long time until the doctor made his appearance. He had a greyish thick goatee and his painted black hair was brushed straight back and shinning. He wore jeans and a white overcoat with a blue button shit underneath. He spoke in his native tongue holding up the X-ray into the light, "In English doc", I said to him calmly."Señor, good news. Not broken. We can fix it. We can put it back into place. No hay problema" José began to translate the last words but I cut him off and told him I understood the doctor."Vamos" I said to the the doctor. A nurses came into the room. She was paralysing with the most beautiful velvety eyes I've ever seen. Made to flutter the hearts of the patients. Young and elegant. I smiled at her, she smiled back."Where you from" she asked in her latin accent,"Sydney, Australia" I said, charmingly I hoped, and my pain was forgotten for a few seconds. She responded with a blush and I felt a hint of hope that I was her first Aussie she had ever met. Then she handed over a plastic tube with a soft smile and ordered me to inhale it slowly. I sucked on the plastic tube deeply into my lungs and it was numbing every bone in my body. I felt confident and started to sing a song by The Ronettes out load in the warm air, looking into her latin velvety eyes,"The night we met I knew I needed you so..."
The doctor returned after my concert. He had a pair of scissors and he cut the left side of my pants up to my knee. The nurse put both of her hands on my left shin and the doctor asked José to hold down my other leg and Randy had to face me as he had forced my shoulders down with all his strength. I would have preferred the nurse holding my shoulders. The doctor took a hold of my foot and pulled it out further from its current position and he slowly turned the foot and slid it back into it's original place with a loud sound; CLOCK! I had felt nothing. After a few physical test and another x-ray, we were set to return back to the States with a pair of ripped jeans and a credit card well used.
It was dark when they wheeled me out of the clinic and I could hear music from all directions. The nightlife had just began. Tijuana is known to have a vibrant night life as long as you stay out of trouble, the corruption and maybe dodge a few bullets. It was unfortunate we had to avoid the excitement in Mexico, all thanks to a skate trick that went very wrong in the land of the not so free...
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