How I bribed my way into Mexico and My run In With A Corrupt Mexican Official

I don't hate flying, I do hate taking off so I use CBD to relieve the anxiety. People who know me could possibly say I'm an idiot, and they would not be far of the mark. I am however a diligent fellow and always check if CBD is legal in the country I am travelling to. I did this before my recent foray to Mexico for some much needed winter sun. The flight was fine, which I knew it would be, but you know, anxiety.Imagine then, my suprise to be pulled up by a young male Mexican customs offical, after we had pressed a button which lit a red or green light randomly, green was go red was a random bag search. This young man claimed that CBD was so illigal in Mexico that it came with a hefty jail term, and asked for my passport. I argued the toss with him for 10 minutes whilst he threatened me with jail and hours of delays whilst it was delt with. The way he kept changing his story started to alert me to the fact that he was trying to pull a fast one. He kept telling me he would have to tell his superiors but when I asked to speak to them he was decidedly reluctant to call them over and after a while I noticed that he was concealing the incriminating bottle from the security cameras and the other staff rooting through our luggage. It slowly dawned on me that I was subject to a scam and he was asking for a bribe. I must complement him on his English as his demand for money was so subtle and nuanced as to not be an actual demand for cash. I have to admit coming from the UK where bribary by public officials is so rare I have never heard of it happening, or know anyone it has happened to. It took me a while to work out what he meant by "there are two ways we can deal with this sir" once I twigged I blurted out "oh I see, you want money?" Much to his embarrassment judging by his pleading look to keep my voice down. I asked how much he wanted, he shrugged his shoulders and said "how much have you got?" I explained to him I had just come off an 11 hour flight from the UK and no money on me apart from 75 pence which had been floating around my bag for months. He very kindly provided me with directions to the nearest cash point and suggested I withdraw some money. Again I asked how much would it take to make this non problem dissapear. Again he shrugged as If to say make me an offer. I decided to low ball him as by now I was angry and humiliated, mostly by my own imagined stupidity at not checking if it was indeed illegal. I offered him 10 dollars. His face went pale and he seemed insulted. He immediately said $200. I hate to say it but I laughed out loud at him, he looked no older than mid twenties and was slim with a teenagers body, no taller than 5 foot. I am a 47 year old man who stands at 5 foot 10 with the build of a rugby player weighing in at just under 20 stone (280 lbs) shaven headed and bearded, some have said I can look quite thuggish and intimidating. The thought did cross my mind as he lead me away from his colleagues and handed me my passport with instructions to insert the bribe into it and return it to him as to come at our transaction, to just barrel past him to freedom, my wife and luggage ( including the offending bottle of CBD) and our awaiting transfer bus. Then I did what I always try and do when in a confrontation, and put my self in his shoes. I thought about how little he earns in comparison to me, even though I earn little above minimum wage. I thought about the bravery it would take him to risk losing his job over a few quid. After a little more haggling we agreed on 100 US dollars and he lead me to the door of the customs hall and pointed out the convenient ATM located just out side. I with drew the money placed it in my passport and walked back in and handed it to him.he looked embarrassed and frightened, he guided me to a corner and suruptisiouly took the passport stuffed full of US dollars then returned my passport. I left quickly and joined my wife who had moved outside. We found our rep and were directed to our bus. Only them did the anger fully hit me. I could see my wife was shaken and scared but all I could think of was 1000 things I should have done to mitigate the encounter. But the worst anger and the thing that is still erking me even now was the amount of charges to withdraw $100. $5.50 ATM charge and $11.90 forien exchange fee. The whole lot cost me £91. I feel no enmity toward the bloke but I am furious with the banks who charge us to access our own money. I hope the cash bought his family some respite from the constant demands of modern life. As I lay in bed last night thinking over the day's events I was saddened to think that his beautiful country, the place he lives and works will be, as a result of his corruption, worse off in the long run. I am certain he will not declair this "tip" so no tax will be paid on it. If I had have spent it here I undoubtedly would have been charged tourist rates and the tax raised would have gone towards schools and raids and all the things governments spend money on to better the lives of their citizens. I found my self hoping that the money would change his life for the better. Yes I lost a days wages, but I would have probably only spent it on that or food or something just as frivolous. I thank my lucky starts to have been born in a country where I am safe and looked after by my government. I moan a lot about my government and their policies and it is true that the current rabble seem uncaring to our more needy citizens, but this has made me reavaluate my life, only a little, but enough to be thankfull. So here's to you unknown corrupt official I hope my embarrassment fear and anger are not for nothing and you use that money to make your life better. I now realise how lucky I am to live in the UK. Things can always be better but it is sobering (a difficult task at a resort with a free bar) to think about how much worse it could be.

Comedy blues

Last night i saw the comedian Bert Kreischer At komedia in bath. It was the best stand-up show i have ever seen, and i have seen over 40 live stand-ups. I got to meet him at the end, i waited in line with my wife for over an hour, whilst he graciously stood, shirt off, in an empty auditorium, greeting everyone with an engaging smile and effortless charm. He greeted every one as if he knew them  personally. It came to our turn, he put out his hand to greet me, looked me right in the eyes, slung an arm round my shoulder, pulled me in for a hug and encouraged me to do the same, he asked my wife if he could do the same to her. the photos were taken and he again extended his hand to me. i thanked him profusely for all the free content he has provided me, by way of podcasts, you tube videos and instagram stories. He shook my hand and said "my pleasure brother" i quickly explained to him that i had, late last year gone to l.a, hoping To see him, but alas he was away gigging in another part of the country, that i had visited the comedy store with the intention of seeing him work on new material but even though he wasn't there i still enjoyed it so much i went back a few days later. He apologised for not being there and again thanked me profusely for the support. I left the venue walking on air. I had had such a good night i completely forgot i even had a jacket when i arrived, it really was such a good night, topped off by meeting a comical hero of mine.

Why then should i feel, about an hour after getting into my hotel room, so very very sad i could almost cry?

I should explain that we are the same age, similar body shape and lifestyle choices, and as far as i can tell from his on stage persona, we think in almost identical circles. the first time i heard him talk was as a guest on the Doug stanhope podcast. listening to him talking to his comedy mentor instantly connected with me, somewhere deep inside at a visceral level  i was hooked, I did a deep dive on the man, finding and devouring every article, every youtube clip, I discovered his back story, and that he himself had his own podcast, i downloaded all of them and listened non stop whilst at work (one of the perks of being a van driver). took every opportunity to push my new found hero on those around me. I studied him, how his jokes work. I ended up knowing so much i started to feel like a stalker. I worked out his address, things about his family i had no right to know.

i lay awake for a good hour once i had settled into my hotel bed, trying to figure out why i felt so sad and at the same time so elated? I finally realized that i was feeling a type of bereavement or loss. I had built this gig up so much in my mind it was the most important thing in my life outside my family. Weeks or maybe months before the gig, I stopped listening to his podcast. I didn't want to hear any new material, even in its infancy. this was going to be the best gig ever and i was taking no risks. nothing was going to ruin my night.
And i wasn't to be disappointed, the gig was epic. i loved it and laughed through every minute. I am usually to shy/embarrassed/lacking confidence to meet people i really admire, but there was no way i was missing out on meeting Bert. I got my photo and my poster.

This goes along way to explaining my sadness. i had invested so much energy in him, hung my hat on his comedy as a way of identifying myself. As i write this i have become acutely aware how creepy this sounds. Please be assured I am far too lazy to stalk someone in real life, and far too nervous to make contact in anything more than a reply to a tweet or a retweet. I had formed a totally one sided relationship with a man i had never meet. Not sexual or even very emotianal, but a weird comedy crush. I finally came to the conclusion that the reason i was so sad was because i thought it was over, like a holiday romance i felt genuine loss. i fell asleep in a state of deep despair.
when i woke up all was well in the world, i felt electric. just thinking of the previous night, bought a big cheesy grin to my face instantly. I realized i could see him again, i could start listening to his podcast again. I went outside to vape and told myself what a twat i was.
i started writing this on the train on the way home and as i was, it occured to me that such a massive dump of dopamine and serotonin would no doubt lead to, when it had worn off, some sort of extreme sadness. with such powerful chemicals sloshing round my brain for hours and then mundanity returning there was bound to be a price to pay. I am home now and feel fine again, a little grumpy as i am tired but a good sleep in my own bed will cure that. I know i will go through this again, maybe with bert or another comedian/actor/musician who i feel resonates with my psyche. even though i felt so sad afterwards i will never forget last night. i have never laughed harder longer or with more tears of joy. i hope i do again but if i dont I am happy in the knowledge that, that was my best ever gig.