The sunlight beams through the small window, forcing me to waken. I feel like I was drugged; or maybe I'm still drunk or just hungover. Squinting, I can't seem to shake the glassy haze blurring my vision. The cold concrete under my bare feet jolts me into focus before my eyes are ready for it. Why am I so sore, and stiff? It must be the lack of a mattress on the steel frame I'm now sitting on. Glancing around the room, I realize that there are vertical metal bars, and concrete walls. What happened last night? I wish more than anything, except for maybe a bottled water, that I could remember last night, or two nights ago? I've only been here for one night, right?? I wish something would jog my memory; I can't seem to remember anything! I hear faint voices coming from another room. I'm not fluent in spanish, but I hear them talking about last night's futbol match. Spanish? That's right! The futbol match that buddies and I came south to watch, but I don't think we made it there; or did we? Where are the other guys? I can't wait to tell them that I survived a night in a Mexican jail! I don't remember changing clothes, so that's horrifying. I'm now wearing orange prison attire that is at least two sizes too big. Not sexy, but my stories with undoubtedly "Impress the ladies", at the next gathering. I assume that it's the guards I hear laughing incessantly; then they come around the corner, into my view. They are making gestures with their fingers as if they are holding something tiny, and pointing at me while they continue their chuckling. They point to the small, outdated television on the distant table. I struggle to focus, yet at the same time, unfortunately, my memory begins to come into focus. It's the post-game show for last night's futbol match. I watch in horror, as I see myself strip naked, and sprint across the futbol field, just before being tackled onto my back. The small blur on the screen can't be excused by my previously blurred vision. I wish last night was still a blur.