Monkey Diaries Archive

The bartender's three day old scruff meshed nicely with the tangled mass of hair on his head. His eyes darted this way and that looking for something but not betraying exactly what. Six of the seven American high school kids drinking Corona's in the corner were oblivious to his furtive glances. The seventh member of the party, the darker one, the one who held his gaze every few seconds was troubling but not troubling enough to prevent the phone call he had just made. A lost a bet on the weekend's jai alai tournament essentially insured what was about to happen. In the hole by a weeks salary, a measly $30 American, the bartender knew something had to be done. Otherwise his wife would find yet another reason to slip off into the night with their three children. A welcome act of cowardice to be sure but not one that the bartender's sense of machismo would allow. 6:30 PM and the cantina was still enjoying the brief lull before the storm. In a few hours, it would be packed with locals and tourists alike. The fact that the tourists, for the most part, were all American and under the age of 18 was the only thing that separated this particular cantina from its northern counterparts. Daily, thousands of high school kids from all over San Diego county flooded the Tijuana bars in search of cheap alcohol, cheaper thrills and not surprisingly, freedom from the oftentimes oppressive expectations of youth. At the cantina's entrance two well dressed Mexican men, cliche mirrored sunglasses still covering their eyes, stood and nodded toward the bartender. The bartender in turn nodded toward the table held by the Americans. And with that, none of their lives would ever be the same. Note: AtomFilms and Sony recently teamed up to create a rather interesting Short Film contest -- Make Your Mark. You can view the treatments and vote for your favorites and possibly hand pick a future feature filmmaker just by voting.