Jailbreak (from Bus to Busted and Out Again) - Page 3
Incommunicado
Concrete floors, several inmates and an awful smell greeted me in the cell. No furniture, just floors. No plumbing, just a bucket. A barred window with a view to nowhere. There were no people in the world who knew my whereabouts. My name was Lonesome. Welcome to Friday night in Chetumal. Once there was a morning in my teenage surfing years that felt like this. I had bought a new Makaha shortboard (7') and the swell was hitting the Malibu beach just right. I had gone out to chase the 4-5' waves when the big set hit. I paddled until my arms fell off over the first of three breakers, then the second and still another wave further out was rolling in. With all my strength, I crested the third wave, the nose of my board punching thru the height of the curl. And then backwards, backwards, backwards, over the falls, I was carried into Mother Nature's washing machine. In that desperate instant, I went limp and tumbled with the white water churn. Disoriented and short of breath, I crawled to the surface, leaving my contact lenses in the depths of the sea. I was alive. That's all that mattered. In this God-forsaken place, the new enemy was boredom. By all rights, no one would talk to me through the weekend. My inmate companions were not the conversational types. To pass the time, I spoke with a guard and was given a marker and cardboard to craft a makeshift chess board and pieces. With the little persuasion and few pesos I could afford, the jail keeper agreed to buy me sardines from across the street. Waiting on this food supplement, I stared out of the cell, gazing at what seemed to be the prison arsenal – a rack of breach-loading Carbine rifles left over from the bygone Mexican wars.2 When dinner had passed and darkness rolled in, I curled up to sleep for the night. 
Me Pusieron in Carcel Pero Tengo El Llave
(They Put Me in Jail, But I Have the Key) With the daybreak's first light, my mind turned to other thoughts. I had committed no crime to be put here and I should put on my 'Zen Thinking Cap' to dwell on this predicament. Propped upright on the concrete wall, in a half-lotus sitting position, I meditated on Great Kanzeon from: