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The novel will be back soon, editing and writing, writing and editing.

I have been working on the next chapter (story) it will be called ‘The House’ it will take one week to complete. I am also working to build a pile of chapters (stories) so that there is a constant flow of posts.

I am also working on a video of the wall, if you don’t know what the wall is then check out the video when it is posted.  In the mean time you can post a comment with a ‘quote’ and it will be added to the wall.

Anxiously I figured that if they search my bag and find them there will be trouble and maybe even time spent in a Mexican prison. Reaching into the pocket and grabbing the matchbox I throw it into the nearest garbage can. This relieves the stress but is unnecessary. By the time we reach customs I realized they aren’t scanning for drugs or plant material but for bombs and weapons; a consequences of September 11th.

After customs we walk through the crowded airport, have some Americanized food and head to the terminal.

THE END

Thats the end of the ‘Last Day in Mexico’, there is much more to come. Want to keep updated on novelog? join the facebook group http://www.facebook.com/group.php?gid=2518897072

Walking down the sparsely lit hallway, a breeze rushed by. Coming to the end of the hall just before the stairs I spot a security guard. He is a young Mexican who can hardly speak English. I ask his name and he says “Jesus.” Then with broken English he asks mine. “Sandy” I reply.

It is difficult to communicate as we can not speak each other’s language. I notice another security guard ascending the stairs, he asks what my room number is, nervously I say “I’m in another building” and point in some random direction. Filled with paranoia I say “good bye” and walk down the stairs. I step out of the the building and run full speed back to my room.

In the morning, only an hour later, I meticulously pack up my things and have a shower. There is a loud knock at the door as my father yells “Hurry up! were leaving in twenty minutes.” I wake my brother as he is still asleep, the two of us scrambled to get ready.

Thirty five minutes later we pack into a massive air conditioned bus headed for the airport. It will be a long drive and a great opportunity to check out the diverse Mexican landscape. Sleep isn’t an option as the sun is too bright and there are no blinds. Sunglasses cover my blood shoot eyes and keeping them hidden.

The line for customs extends outside of the airport and into the parking lot. As we get closer I notice customs are scanning every bags. This frightens me as I have a matchbox filled with Hawaiian Baby Woodrose seeds in the front pocket of my navy blue suitcase. I had planned to smuggle them back into Canada.

The guy from London who has been most active in the conversation is with his sister. She has been lying on the bed next to him with her eyes closed. She opens them then motions that she wants to leave. Standing up he announced “It has been a good night but my sister wants to sleep.”

I stand tall and confidently shake his hand and ask his name. “Matt.” he replies, I then say “Nice meeting you Matt” helping to establish his name into my memory.

Turning back to the girl from Montreal she laughs again as I sway.

Being high and a little paranoid I ask “Anyone have eye drops?”

Sarcastically the joint roller says “Why do you need eye drops? Its 4:27 am, who’s going to see your eyes?” laughing he continues “Like your brother is going to say ‘Let me see your eyes!’ Then go tell your parents”

I laugh “Yeah I guess not”

The thug and his friend from Calgary grab their Mexican wrestling masks from a drawer and put them on. They have an extra so the guy from Ottawa grabs it and puts it on. The thug’s friend tries to drink a bottle of beer through his mouth hole. The mask is confining and the hole too small, he spills the beer all over himself and soaks the mask. We all laughed hysterically as he struggles to clean up the mess.

There is a knock at the door, the masked men run drunkenly to answer. It is the food they have ordered from room service. They are handed trays of food while they joke about the masks, the delivery man chuckles along, waiting for a tip.

It’s late and I have to get up in an hour, so I say good bye.