Despite all of the places I have been, I have only been outside the United States twice – once in 1988 when I went to London, England as part of a high school class trip – and again when I went to Toronto, Canada to cover Wrestlemania X8 for Ring Fever in 2002. So when I came here to San Diego and realized that I was less than 100 miles from the Mexican border, I made a promise to myself that I would travel outside the U.S. for the third time – and I did that on August 13th – with a little help from an old friend.

Having moved to Los Angeles in May of 2005, my ex-girlfriend Sandy had always asked me to come visit her on this side of the country – so when she heard that I was on my way here – she made a point to drive down to San Diego to meet up with me. Instead of remaining in San Diego – she decided to take me to Mexico – and that is exactly what we did.

When she got here, we drove our friend Karen to the airport so she could head back to Brooklyn to deal with family matters. After dropping her off, we made our way to Little Italy where we found a corner bar and ate, drank and reminisced about all that was “us.” Taking my father’s 13 charm she once wore for over a year and placing it around her neck yet again, we talked about our combined past, our respective presents – and our unknown futures. We remembered good times we had, joked about bad ones – and even confessed a few past sins to one another – all with a “water under the bridge” attitude. When it was time to head back to Escondido, we found a hotel and slept for the night – waking early to make our way to the border, and our neighbor to the South.

As soon as we arrived in Mexico, I could sense that everything was different. The air smelled different, the streets did not look the same – and when we came to a corner – I saw a red, octagon-shaped sign that said, “ALTO.” As we drove through Tijuana toward our destination, Rosarito Beach – all I could do was stare out the window and gaze at my surroundings the same way one would if staring at a movie screen – transfixed at what they see, and eager to see what’s next.

We arrived at the Rosarito Beach Hotel and had breakfast. She had bacon and eggs – while I had refried beans and chorizo. Following our meal, we went shopping at a local mart – and I discovered that Sandy is such a good haggler – she could have purchased Manhattan from the Indians for less than originally paid. From jewelry to clothing to paintings, she never bought something for its original price. The only items I purchased were a wrestling mask for my friend Wendi’s son Seth – and a fridge magnet to add to my “places I’ve been” collection. After our shopping excursion, we headed to the beach itself for Mexico’s most precious natural resource – Tequila.

Before imbibing, we went horseback riding, which was Sandy’s idea. When we first met, Sandy took me on a date which consisted of staying at a two-story hotel room in Pennsylvania which had its own Jacuzzi and fireplace – and then taking me on an early morning hot air balloon ride the following day. Now, six years after we broke up and seven since that day – we were galloping on horses while the waves of the Gulf of Mexico splashed against the hooves of the creatures we rode. I can never take away from that woman the ability she has to plan a truly unique adventure.

When we made it to the bamboo-covered table on the beach, we were given margaritas by our friendly and very accommodating host Carlos and enjoyed them while listening to a Mariachi band play a few tables away. We were then joined by Filamon, a dog who belongs to the bar who had befriended us. After a few rounds, she invited me to join her for an ATV ride – but I decided to remain with Filamon, Carlos – and Jose Cuervo. The rest of the afternoon slowly began to fade away – in both time and memory – as the Tequila began to do its job. At around 3:30pm Pacific Time – we said goodbye to Mexico and headed back to our native soil.

It took us three-and-a-half hours to make it across the border back into the United States – although I was only awake for an hour of it. Once we hit the highway, Sandy drove me back to Karen’s house, gave me a big hug and kiss – and said goodbye to me once again.

I have remained friends with many of my former lovers, and I talk to them frequently. But that 24 hours that I spent with Sandy could only be described as the wish that many people have for that “one more day.” How many of us lose someone we love in whatever circumstance and wish for nothing more than to spend one more day with them the way you both once were. Thanks to our enduring friendship and the fact that we both still love each other despite going our separate ways – I got that one day in the most unique of circumstances. I do not know when I will see Sandy again or when, if ever, we will get the chance to spend time like that again – but I am thankful for it, for her – and for that “one more day.”

Thanks Kiddo. I love you.