So I went down to southern California for a week. I was to hang out at a cousin's, go to the Iran-USA soccer game at the Rose Bowl and check out a trade show.
The game was cool. There were over 50,000 Iranians of all sorts there from an old lady in a chador to cute teens dressed like Los Vegas show girls and boys eyeing each other. Amazing how peacefully Iranians can live together in California. No one cared if the other guy was a Jew, Muslim, or whatever. They were all Iranians.
But hey, I am not writing this to tell you about the game. Nor am I going to lecture on democracy. I am here to tell you about the most popular brothel in Mexico. Why would you be interested? Well …
It was Saturday night. The cousin who came down with me suggested we go to the Mexican border town of Tijuana to party. Partying is cheap there, you know. And it's only about a couple of hours drive south of Los Angeles.
So we drove down to the border at the very end of the I-5 Highway, parked at a lot within walking distance of the border crossing and walked across into Mexico. There were dozens of cabs waiting for riders.
We took one, got in and the cabby started the engine. Behold! The tape he was playing was Andy — legendary southern Californian Iranian Pop singer — singing away in Farsi. It took us a few minutes to catch on. We were dumbfounded. What the hell? A cabby in Tijuana playing Iranian music?
It turned out that so many Iranians go to the brothels in Tijuana that their managers have actually hired Iranian DJs to cater to their best customers — repeat business thing, you know.
The cabby said because he had had so many Iranian riders, he had gotten a couple of tapes from one of the DJs. He wanted the music so he could please his customers. Besides, he liked the music because “it came from the heart”.
He said almost all the male Iranians he had picked up from the border wanted to go straight to the brothels. And he expected nothing less of us. “Want nice ladies, amigo?”
Being so scientifically curious I had to check this out.
We asked the cabby to take us to the most popular brothel. So he took us to the Chicago Bar on Constitution street. And of course we tipped him well.
We walked into the bar and, sure enough, there was Iranian music on loudspeakers and bands of fat, bald Iranian men stood around talking business with the prostitutes.
I walked over to the DJ's booth by the bathroom and there he was – an Iranian guy with a big mustache doing an unmistakable Iranian gher-e kamar (fanny-swing). I said salam and he responded with a smile, waved and said “Chaakerrrreeeeeemmm!” (duuuuuude!).
We walked over to the bar and immediately were hounded by the prostitutes. They were marketing their services, but I was more interested in talking to them. (Hey, I don't pay for sex and if they want sex they ought to be paying me, for all I'm concerned.)
The prostitutes would stand around and talk to you, but you had to buy them an over-priced drink so they could fill their drink quota for the night.
Anyway, I interviewed three of the women that night. The one who left the greatest impression was Tina. Tina is a beautiful woman with long curly black hair, dark olive skin, huge black eyes, and a great body.
I said hi, and she smiled and asked: “You Irani?”
I laughed and nodded.
She laughed and got really close. She liked Iranian men.