Life on the Border

This past Sunday, I headed off with one of the physicians I work with to the thriving metropolis of Del Rio, Texas for a marketing trip. Del Rio happens to be one of those fun border cities (fortunately on our side of the border) that are generally avoided by most sane people. But because the docs there send patients to our group, we got to visit this awesome little town to work on forming some new relationships. So off we headed to Del Rio.

If this is the "Best of the Border"...

We stayed at the nicest hotel in town, a Hampton Inn. Our fancy lunch out was Chili's. And me and the doctors I work with made endless jokes about the purported "historical sophistication" and "playful spirit" of Del Rio, as advertized on the Hampton Inn website. Dr. E even almost had me convinced that he bought a Frommer's Guide to a 1/2 Day in Del Rio.

Let me just say, this whole trip was weird. 

Sunday night started out pretty good, with us driving around looking for a place to eat once we arrived at about 9 p.m. Everywhere was closed, so we kept on heading south on Main St, until we saw this big bridge. Dr. D and I exchanged a glance and my favorite quote of the trip occured:

"Yeah, we better turn around. Mexico is three blocks that way."

Ultimately, we scored some pretty tasty Mexican food at this little place we stumbled upon:

I then spent the rest of the night added the squiggly line above all the "n"s on the Spanish translation of our Colon Cancer Awareness cards until midnight while simultaneously watching My Fair Wedding, coverage of the Bin Laden story, and a special on the royal wedding. That's what happens when you don't have cable at home: channel overload.

The next morning, we were all set to go bright and early, but apparently Del Rio was not ready for us. We were stood up twice and then finally got to meet a physician who, as Dr. D said, seemed to be either a A) cardboard cutout of a real person or B) a hostage with a gun to his head forced to simply stare vacantly and nod no matter what we said.

With these successful encounters fresh on our minds, we abandoned Del Rio and fled to a lake that was just north of town hoping to see something pretty that would rejuvenate our spirits. It was working pretty well until Dr. D asked if this was that lake where the US jet skier was shot by Mexican pirates. A quick search on my phone revealed that that lake was south of the one we were checking out, fortunately. Our confidence was a bit shaken though, so we headed back to the populous of Del Rio.

The visits got quite a bit better. Sure, there was the office that smelled of urine and a few more supremely bizarre physicians, but we also had a few good visits that should generate some business for us. The trip was pretty authentically Mexican too, since we listened to Hispanic rock music the entire time and I got to learn a few Spanish words (like nueces, or nuts).

Oh, and we got to go through customs, which was exciting for me. We were also constantly surrounded by a plethora of border patrol vehicles. I even got to see my favorite dog (a German Shephard) searching through an endless row of train cars.

When I got home, I was exhausted (we met 17 physician in one day... sheesh!) but also felt like I had taken a mini vacation to a bizarre little part of the world. And I was even still alive. How's that for success?