Reverse train robbery in Sonora, Mexico

Speaking the language of your host country is almost always a great blessing. There are exceptions, however. The following incident took place while I was a college student, traveling with our friends over Spring Break to Guaymas, Mexico. We had taken a bus to Chihuahua, then boarded a train that ran from Chihuahua past the famous Copper Canyon on its way to Culiacan, Mexico. There were five of us, and we had rented a private cabin for the trip. There was practically no food to be had on this day-long trip, but we had discovered that beer was cheap and plentiful. We had just about drunk the train dry when the "incident" occurred.

A federal policeman walked by our table. We were playing bridge. I looked up at him. He said "Are you gambling?" I replied, "No we are not. We are just playing a card game. I know how to gamble, but we are not gambling now." Mistake number one!

"You will have to come with me, senor."

"Anything wrong."

"No, senor, but we must talk privately among ourselves."

Rick, my 6'4", 250-pound friend asked me what was going on. I told him I didn't know yet. Yes, I have always been a little slow on the uptake. Drives some of my friends crazy!

So off we went. By this time the federale had a friend with him, and now even to me the plot had thickened. We went to a private cabin and sat down. Finally, the second policeman spoke: "We want 500 pesos." At 12.50 pesos to a dollar in those days, this was more money than I had with me, which was going to be a problem. Most of my cash, as well as that of my friends, had gone to Mexican beer.

"You were gambling on the train, and this is a violation of Mexican law."

"Which law?" I replied foolishly.

"If you will kindly get off the train at the next stop we will be glad to show you the rule."

"But my friends and I have done nothing wrong. We were not gambling!"

About this time my friend Rick had located my cabin. He shouted in to ask if I was all right. I told him they wanted money. He volunteered to break down the cabin door and throw them off the train. Great, I thought to myself. Perfect solution, probably end up spending the rest of my days in a Mexican jail. Now I not only had to deal with the Mexican Army but also with Rick! I told him I was OK and just needed a little time to straighten things out. Not moving from his post outside the door he said he would wait awhile.

Returning to my more immediate problem, I looked at the soldier and said "But I haven't that much money on me. In fact, I am returning to my country and have spent all my money. All I have left is enough money for a hamburger."

There were of course two problems with my story, by this point: (1) I was going in the wrong direction to be returning home, and (2) a hamburger was not a solid point of reference in Mexico. My Spanish was OK, but I had to admit at this point that I was WAY over my head and clearly headed toward the panic zone.

Rick was testing the tensile strength of the door handle by now, and beginning to lose patience. This was my first glimpse that day of an afterlife. The cabin took on a pale, diffused, distant aura. My life history was scrolling past the insides of my eyelids. I would be destined to live an eternity somewhere with Rick!

"500 pesos" intoned the other soldier.

"Perhaps a lesser sum might suffice?" I handed over my 13 pesos, all the money in my wallet.

"You'll have to go to the police station with us. The fine must be paid. I doubt that you will have to spend more than a couple of weeks with us to pay off the fine."

The other soldier, perhaps an unwilling accomplice, now suggested maybe I could ask my gringo friends for some money.

"They hardly have any money either!" I replied.

"Then I guess there is no choice. Please understand that I am not doing this because I like to, I am simply fulfilling my duty as a soldier." Silence reigned.

"It is true I only have 13 pesos, which I have given to you. I have shown you my wallet. You may search my pockets. Beers are only 4 pesos each. Perhaps I could call the waiter and we could have three beers?"

As quickly as the tension had mounted, the spell had been broken. We had found an understanding between us. They let me go, and let me keep my 13 pesos. Rick, outside all this time, helped me grope my way back to the group, like a blind man. I immediately took 4 pesos out and asked the waiter for a beer.

The soldiers continued walking through the passenger cars, looking more bored than ever.