I knew it was bad.  I was close to shore luckily.  I covered it with my hand and waved over Papa Chango.  He hadn’t been surfing this particular morning, but thankfully was on the beach.  I can’t imagine the circumstances had he not been there.  “How bad is it?”  “You’re going to need stitches,”  he said. Shocking to hear those words come From him.  I had never been hurt down here.  There was blood everywhere.

Somebody apparently had called an ambulance.  When PC saw them coming towards the scene, he whisked me into his Honda Element, and sped away the other way.  He told me that I wouldn’t have wanted to go with them because they wouldn’t have any clue what to do for me or where to take me.  Not entirely true.  They’d want to know where I lived so that they could first get the money to cover their $400 Gringo charge.  

So we sped away.  He took me to my room and dropped me off.  He wanted me to deal with it on my own.  He suggested I take a shower, put on a dry bathing suit, and then get a taxi to the place that our “buddy” suggested on the beach.  A little more expensive, but well worth it “if you’re flush on cash.”  I looked in the mirror.  It was bad.  A blow to the head from my board with enough force to gash it wide open.  ok, here we go.

I grabbed all my money.  I bought a 20 cent bag of ice at a tienda.  I crushed the mini ice block on the pavement, wrapped it in my shirt, and compressed the gash. I hopped in a taxi.  This is a taxi run town.  More taxis here than in New York City.  Swear to it.  I sat in front.  So it was a gash on a huge lump.  I felt my age.  I told the guy to take me to the top of Avenida Oaxaca, next to Conimar.  I had the shock thing going.

The 19 year Oaxacan Boy dressed in ALL whites sat with me quietly as I waited for The Doctor to arrive.  30 min. later, she came in with likely her husband.  He probably chauffeured her.  She had short hair.  She was in a tight blouse.  Short skirt.  High heels.  She carried a Doctors Briefcase.  she put on surgical gloves, and wasting no time, whipped out her 3in needle and gave two juicy squirts to the forehead.  It was on!

Ten minutes, and $125 later, she was done with me.  I walked across the street and bought five days worth of antibiotics for $14.  And that was that.  I came to find out that I could have gotten away with paying only $40 and $6 for the antibiotics, but there was the modeling career to consider.  She handled the situation so very pro.  I’d still be filling out paperwork had this of happened in the United States.