Abandoned in a Mexican Whorehouse – at Age Six

How does a six year old and his three year old brother end up alone in the filthiest whore house district on earth? Quite simply, because it was my father’s visitation weekend, and sadly, that particular weekend wasn’t much different from any other visitation. There were always women, booze, drugs, car wrecks – without fail, and lots of yelling. It’s a wonder I’m not completely insane. On that weekend, we’d flown to Austin from Dallas, where my father and his second wife resided. Ditching my stepmother, he told her that we were off to the Buckhorn Saloon in San Antonio (the museum at the Lone Star brewery), to see the largest longhorns on earth. And so it began. Once drunk at the saloon, dad responsibly figured a trip to Laredo, Mexico was a good idea. Several hours later, we found ourselves trudging through Boys Town. Now back in 1971, Boys Town was an old west town, with horses, muddy dung covered roads, boarded sidewalks, swinging bar room doors, the works, with whores sitting out front in chairs, begging you to come over. And that’s all there was, whores, bars and dung. Dad hired one young gal to watch over me and my brother, while he went in search of God knows what. Back then, instead of kidnapping and ransoming us, the whore was of high moral fiber and actually watched over us. My brother and I each had one toy, little model cars that we quickly grew bored with, so we decided to sleep with the whore. Okay, that’s not true. Seven hours later, my father staggered back into the room covered in blood and human fecal matter. He’d driven his brand new Jaguar XJ6 into a cesspool. The car literally sank in shit and was never recovered. Again, this was the norm. The whore took dad’s money and ran from the room in horror. My stepmom drove down from Austin the following morning to pick us up. She left my dad there. Go figure. She was a worthy stepmom. What’s the take away here? Don’t leave your kids in a third world whorehouse? Never drive your new car into a third world country? Don’t cheat on your wife – especially with hookers? This list could go on forever. So what did my father learn? The story came up about ten years ago, and this is what he had to say for himself: “We had a lot of good times, didn’t we boys?” Seriously. He now babysits fulltime. Let me know if you want his phone number.


Also, if you’d like an accurate look inside Navy Special Operations EOD couched within a wild story, please check out my novel, The Temporary Hero. I’d like the chance to twist your mind. Found directly at: www.CarrCollins.com

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