About Us

Los Banditos

by Eric Bloomquist

November, 2009

The town folk hid in their homes as the banditos rode round the central square with their guns blazing into the sky. The polished silver decorations on their saddles glistened against the multi colored hand woven horse blankets. Their large sombreros shaded their long drooping black mustaches and the bullets draped over their shoulders in their bandoleros made them all the more threatening. These are the stereotyped images of Mexican bandits in movies and cartoons from my childhood.

Today, cable news creates new images of the modern Mexican bandits. These are the Hummer driving, heavily armed, vicious drug gangs who are portrayed as threatening all of Mexico. Both styles of banditos have been overstated and neither have been real threats to the typical tourist. However, there is yet another modern version of the banditos running rampant on the streets of Puerto Vallarta. The Policia Transito – the traffic cops!

In the last year, I have come face to face with these ruthless bandits on five different occasions. I have been shocked at what they will resort to in order to obtain the necessary funds for donuts and tacos.

In my first encounter, Tom and I were driving from downtown PV to the marina after a men’s bonding evening. It was approximately 1 am and raining. As we passed the airport, our rear window was lit up by flashing lights. I pulled over and the traffic cop came up to my window, speaking in Spanish, informing me that I was driving too fast. We had a brief standoff with each of us holding to our native tongues. I won that initial skirmish as he began speaking in English. He asked for my license and took it from me, as he continued asserting my high speed pass. I attempted to plead my innocence, but was informed that he would be issuing a ticket, taking my license to the Police station, and I would need to appear there to pay my fine and get my license back. I was a rookie in this game, but I had a flash. “Sir, is there any place I can pay my fine tonight?” “No, of course not. Not at this hour” he replied. After 3 or 4 queries he offered, “Well, you could pay it here”. “Bingo”, I thought and 500 pesos later we were on our way home, license in hand. The next day I was chastised by our friends that live in PV full time. “It’s because you tourists pay them off that they continue to harass all of us”, they insisted. “If you stall, don’t pay the bribe, and appear ready to take the ticket, they will usually send you on your way. They don’t want to hassle with tickets, they want lunch money.” Round 1 goes to the bandits.

My second contact with policia transito occurred on a sunny Saturday afternoon as I was driving downtown to the marine store Zaragoza. I turned off the main road on to the ‘lateral’ service road and a uniformed officer stepped out from between two cars and waved me down. I stopped, was informed I was going too fast, and surrendered my driver’s license. My protests of innocence were again ignored. The bandit took my ID to his car and returned with his ticket book. “I must give you ticket and the fine will be $400 pesos”, he told me, “and you must go to the station to pay your fine.” “That’s OK”, I said. “Where is the station?”. He looked a little bewildered with my reply and held up his ticket book. “No, really, I am going to give you a ticket”, he insisted. “That’s fine”, I replied. “You know I am taking your license with me”, he added. “Yes, I know. I’ll pay the ticket on Monday”. His look of bewilderment turned to disgust. He handed my ID back and said, “get out of here”. With the mentoring of our local friends, some confidence, and a little patience, round 2 goes to the good guys.

A month later, I was driving back into town in the early evening with 2 other friends for another male bonding event. We had been out for dinner with our families and had a couple of margaritas. I was smug driving down the main street and was telling how important it was to watch our speed in this zone. Unfortunately, I was paying to much attention to my story and went through a red light. Within 30 seconds, I was nailed again. This time there were two uniformed bandits in the car. I was quick to acknowledge my error and awaited the ticket dance. The difference between this and the other incidents was that I was actually guilty. The cops returned to their car for a brief discussion and then returned to my window. One of them reached in with both hands cupped and said “breath into my hands.” He raised his hands to his nose and stated “you have been drinking”. I, of course, insisted that I had one or two beers at dinner. He didn’t buy it and asked me to get out of the car. I was now faced with two large officers and two infractions. “Each of these tickets will be $500 pesos”, he informed me. “These are serious tickets.” I knew I was dead wrong on running the red light, but I wasn’t so sure the ‘Mexican breathalizer’ was an accepted measuring device. The cops then began the usual stalling with repeated references to the seriousness of my offences and the need to pay a total of $1000 pesos. They were beginning the transition from law enforcers to bandits. I wasn’t sure I wanted to deal with 2 real tickets and had no idea what a Mexican DUI process looked like, but I also didn’t want to pay for their kids’ schooling. The holdup was about to begin, the bandits were there. One bandito offered, “We can take of this right here”. “How much?, I asked. “$500 pesos” , he stated. “$400”, I blurted.

It was over. Two actual offences and less than ½ price to escape. I call round three a draw.

My next adventure began as I drove toward Vallarta and crossed the state border from Nayarit into Jalisco. I crossed the bridge and began a long sweeping curve, which is visually obstructed by heavy overgrowth. This is the home of a frequent radar speed trap and I was alert. I rounded the curve and was traveling slightly less than the posted limit. Four police cars and numerous bandits were stationed on the right shoulder and one of them stepped out into the traffic lane flagging me toward the side. I ignored his motions, changed lanes, and drove on. He couldn’t have been pointing to me, I wasn’t speeding! At least that was what I intended to tell them if they pursued. Round 4 was mine.

We drove our own car from SLC to Vallarta this season to give us flexibility and allow us to venture out of town into ‘real’ Mexico. We decided on a family road trip to Barra de Navidad, our favorite coasal town in Mexico. Once again, we were driving through downtown Vallarta and had an encounter.
We were on a busy street that was narrowing. As we approached an intersection a pickup truck cut in front of us and I swerved to miss him. Sliding past his side I looked up and saw the light changing to red. There was no option, we just carried on through the intersection. A few blocks later we saw the flashing lights behind us and heard a siren. I was wrong again and busted. The officer took my license and began the ritual explaining that he had to give me a ticket and I would pay the $500 pesos fine at the station. I accepted my guilt and waited for him to write out a ticket. He asked where we were going and then said, “Do you really want to drive all the way to Barra without a license?” I told him that was OK and I would pay the fine on Monday. Perhaps it is during the stalling phase of these transactions that an officer transforms into a bandit. We were on a busy street and our bandit appeared uncomfortable. He leaned in through the window and quietly said, “We can take care of this here and save you some time”. “How much?” I asked. “What do want to pay?” “$200”, I replied. It was a deal and I reached for my wallet. He then added, ”Don’t let anyone see the money”, so I folded up a $200 pesos bill and slid it under my license, which was still in his hand.

I was frustrated with myself and thought I could have stalled a bit longer. However, I was guilty, in a hurry, and thought $200 pesos (about $15 us) was good value. We’ll chalk that one up to practice and hope to be stronger next time.

The Vallarta banditos are a kinder gentler version of the old pistol wielding bandits and are certainly not in the league of the drug lords. But they are there. We make choices and sometimes trade ‘what is right’ for convenience. Our friends down here are correct when they say we only encourage and enable the bribes when we cave. On the other hand, paying $15 to go on our way when we are actually wrong seems to be a reasonable compromise. Bandits need donuts, too.