The band was in San Felipe, Mexico, in Baja California for the San Felipe, Carnival of jazz. The band’s last set on Sunday, February 13, was at a cantina called the “Gringo Loco.” My flight from San Felipe to Los Angeles was due to depart at 4:30 PM. In Los Angeles I had international connections to Mexico City and onto Cuba for the second annual course in Cuban music at the SQL national day art in Havana.
I had a bit of a time problem getting to the airport, so Jim, the owner of the Gringo Loco, kindly offered to drive me himself. After I was in Jim’s truck, I suggested he just drop me at a taxi stand in town, and I would go the rest of the way by cab. He agreed. When we reached the taxi stand, there was only one cab in site—an old beaten up 1948 Oldsmobile. There were three youthful occupants in the cab, but all were evidently quite drunk. The one behind the wheel was unconscious, but his friend shook him awake vigorously in view of his potential fair. Jim and I agreed this is not a good situation unless I could drive the cab myself. I told the three occupants in Spanish that I would drive the cab if they would direct me to the airport. They agreed, so I got in and began driving.
They directed me out of town along the north road to Mexicali. As we drove, I began to doubt the directions, but every time I asked, they assured me we were going in the right direction. The tim
