My teeth scrub took about 45 minutes. Same dentist who did my other dental stuff, the implant, the crown, the yankenpull.
She’s in her 30s, petite, looks like a movie star and was self-assured and confident while power washing my donkey teeth.
The office piped in American music (Elton John and Dua Lipa) and she hummed along as she took a pickax to my funky fangs.
After my mouth was certified minty fresh, Brad Dude and I walked down the street, found a guy under a big umbrella in front of a cooler the size of a moving pod. He was selling fresh shrimp. From the Sea of Cortez.
I don’t even know who Cortez is, or why they named a sea after him or her or whatever they identified as, but the shrimp looked pink and fresh and smelled like the ocean.
The person in front of me bought…
Twenty pounds! Seriously.
I got two pounds, shrimp guy packed them in ice and triple bagged them. The cost? $20 bucks for a kilo of crustaceans.
Brad Dude and I crossed the border back into the USA.
It was a lot more serious entering the USA than getting in to Mexico. There was a sign at passport control that said, “NO JOKES.”
I was gonna tell the customs officer the one about when I took Viagra for the first time, it got stuck in my throat, and I had a stiff neck for more than four hours, but I didn’t.
The officer looked my passport and asked if I had anything to declare. I was gonna say, “My latest song is the best I’ve ever written” but I just held up my big bag of shrimp.
He waved us through.
Brad Dude insisted we take the back way to Palm Springs. On the north side of the Salton Sea.
As I drove, Brad Dude told me where we were going.
First stop? Salvation Mountain.
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