It was the spring of 2008 in Austin, Texas. The smell of spring break was in the air, but none of my fraternity brothers had the cash or the motivation to put together a trip. So we pooled what was left of our brain cells and planned a road trip to Nuevo Laredo.
You will not believe what they do with donkeys in Mexico

There were 15 of us–14 guys and a girlfriend (you know the type of girl who won’t let the guy go anywhere without her). We called up a Motel 6 in Laredo, about three hours south of Austin, and made reservations for a Saturday, the weekend before UT’s spring break.

That fateful Saturday around noon we gathered in the courtyard of our house, coolers and knapsacks in hand, and headed towards the border. On our journey at first, there were mostly pastures and then came the desert. Finally, we got to Laredo and settled in before crossing the Rio Grande.

Our first stop was the gringo-laden Senor Frogs. We had a couple of drinks there, but it was early, around 9 pm, and no one was out yet. And we needed a little more excitement than a bar all the American high-schoolers go to.

So we made a decision that would change us all forever–we were headed to “Boystown.” “Boystown,” 6 or 7 miles deep into Mexico, is just a string of whorehouses and seedy bars. But we didn’t care at the time, we wanted to see the mythical donkey show. My idiot friend got to talking with one of the locals outside of Senor Frogs who promised us that a ride, in three separate horse carriages, would be cheaper than a cab–just not necessarily safer.

So we hopped into these carriages, and proceeded south. Not more than a minute into the ride, the carriages split up. When my carriage reached the slums, we were alone in the dark. The streets were dark, because they had no electricity, and we had the one female, a busty blonde, riding with us. We were scared beyond belief. I thought for sure we were goners. The girl was crying, stray dogs were chasing us and the locals (who we couldn’t see due to the darkness) were yelling and whooping it up from the sidewalks. But our driver assured us we would reunite with our friends in Boystown soon.

After what seemed like an eternity, but was probably only like 20 minutes, we turned down a narrow street, lit on both sides, that was unmistakably our destination. We paid our driver, and marched into the first doorway to find our missing compadres. We found 1/3 of our group sitting around a table; the other group hadn’t arrived yet. Let me tell you, that I was never happier in my life to see my dumb ass friends. We all hugged in celebration of our survival when the rest of our group arrived intact.