In this the last installment in my Mexico story I pick up the narrative the morning after my night in a Mexican jail.
Mexico: A Night In The Hoosegow
In the morning it was a sore head and a trip back to the detachment for me. I was ushered out of the Bug into a waiting room of the detachment off of which were several rooms. After about twenty minutes of sitting in the waiting room I was ushered into one of the rooms. The room was bare except for a long table around which were a number of wooden chairs. A lone light bulb hung from the ceiling. Seated in one chair at the far side and in the middle of the table was a lone middle aged Mexican policeman with a mustache and an open file folder lying on the table in front of him. He stared absently at a pencil that he played with in his hands upon the table and made no notice of my entrance as I was directed to take a seat opposite him. Neither of us spoke. The fellow that brought me in the room left silently and closed the door. A long silence ensued as the policeman continued staring impassively at the pencil. My head was throbbing and all I could think of was “What now?”