“Niko, where is the worst place you have ever visited?”-

Is a question a friend posed to me recently.  Kansas, I thought immediately. Or the time I was working in Mexico and found myself thrown out of Club Palladium in Acapulco for puking on the dance floor, and then telling the taxi driver I wanted to go to the Casa de las mujeres, which in my inebriated state I assumed he would understand as *Strip Club*. As we made our way through the obviously non-tourist areas of the city I started to sober up. When we stopped at a convenience store and the driver returned with a pack of condoms, I began to question my journey. When we pulled up on a villa with armed guards and I was escorted near a pool where, to my amazement, I was asked cual quieres by the owner/resident of the villa as he nodded at a group of clearly younger girls in bikinis anxiously tapping their feet. Realizing quickly what I had gotten myself in to, I knew I had to get out of there…fast. Weighing my options I chose a girl. We made our way back to the cab and whisked quickly off to my hotel. I was informed the various prices for the sundry of services my selection provided, and suddenly my plan was clear. I informed the driver that I only had my debit card and would need to withdraw money from an ATM. After feigning a defective card, the driver accepted my insinuation that there was plenty of cash in my hotel room. Immediately upon arriving to the entrance of my hotel, I jumped out of the car and ran past the guards in to the safety of my hotel-or so I thought. The driver ditched the girl and followed me right in to the lobby of my hotel. As he was rather portly in a Carlos Mencia kind of way, I was able to beat him up the stairs and in to my room. He finally located my room (to this day I’m still not sure how…) and proceeded to pound on my door for the next 20 minutes. Perhaps assuming he had the wrong room, he finally left. That may have been the worst, but Kansas is pretty bad too.


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