Seven Years Ago In Mexico. Cartels, Food Poisoning and Valium.

This picture was taken seven years ago today.

I put it up on the FACEBOOK today, planning on just writing a little note to go along with it…then…well, as we all know…life sometimes has other plans and I wrote most of the whole sordid tale of my month in Mexico.

I think I needed a laugh and a reminder of olden days…in that order.

It’s kinda wild to think that THIS was seven years ago…forever and yesterday, right?

Anyhow, the post got quite a big response, and I received a lot of messages.
I didn’t expect that at all.
Well, I guess when the word CARTEL gets introduced into a personal story, people sit up.

So, of course, I decided to flesh it out, add a story about being admitted to the hospital in Puerto Vallarta and being afraid of….well…you have to read onward…and maybe grab a bigger audience for it.

LET IT NEVER BE SAID THAT SHARRON MATTHEWS WAS ONE TO WASTE A CHANCE AT BUILDING HER AUDIENCE.

And proud of it.

So.

Back in the day, when Wayne Gwillam and I lived and worked in Mexico for a month, A MONTH, it was so hot onstage that there was a fan under the “piano” that blew up my skirt.

AND AND one night a cartel came, removing everything out of the performance space (including the massive air conditioner RIGHT off the roof, as well as the sound board out of the second floor booth) to force rent payment by the producers.

True story.
It was cray, people.
AND AND AND after the stone faced cartel members removed the luxurious red leather chairs from the cabaret room, the “management” “sourced” (when does one get to use TWO sets of quotation marks in a sentence!?!?) a number of dirty Corona beer chairs to put in their place…that soon became filled with bemused, scared, tanned, and excited audience members.
It was Mexico…who knew what would happen but from the buzz of conversation around me, it seemed the entertainment value (which only had 50% to do with me and 50% to do with the situation) was well worth the risk.

AND AND AND AND and, yes, I STILL did the show that night.

AND AND AND AND AND after I retired to the “dressing room” after the show (that I did with NO AMPLIFICATION) I opened my phone and saw a text from an Artistic Director in Canada (you know who you are) telling me they’d already heard ALL about it AND AND AND AND AND AND had specific details.

AND AND AND AND AND AND AND one day during my soundcheck, the “producer” of the space offered me the unsolicited advice that I would do better in the business if I wore more glitter and ate fewer chips.

SIDEBAR:This also reminded me of doing my show at the Pleasance in Edinburgh, where by the time I got to work in the space the stage lights had been on for about seven hours straight, and it was so hot onstage that my eyelashes would melt off every night…and I would store them in my bra when they did.
Every.
Night.
BUT, of course, in true performer fashion, I still put them on every day…after I cleaned them.
END OF SIDEBAR

“Sharron, why don’t you do cabaret as much anymore….”

Oh yes, back in the day.
And this ain’t even the half of it…but WHAT a time I had.
I learned a lot. A LOT.

Still, all in all?!
A really fun month in Mexico.

OH, except for the massive food poisoning. 😂😎🔥🌞☄️
Well, I guess I should’ve had that tequila shot after dinner, huh Bill ?!?

OH wait…AND AND AND AND AND AND AND AND after I got the foot poisoning, between bouts of knife-to-the-stomach pain and barfing, I BEGGED my ex NOT to take me to the hospital because someone we knew had recently passed away there (that was the first of two deaths that would happen in our small entertainment community THAT MONTH), he took me to the hospital anyway (thank god he did), AND AND AND AND AND AND AND AND AND the lovely nurses took a nauseating and passie-outtie 45 minutes to find a vein to put the IV in (my ex even had to leave the room at one point, face as white as a ghost AND AND AND AND AND AND AND AND AND AND when he left he had to contact Michael Hughes on the FACEBOOK…THE FACEBOOK… to help with our medical insurance).
The attending doctor and I had a limited understanding of each other’s languages BUT I did understand that she was giving me very fine care…as I screamed following…

Me: HOW THE FUCK do people have BABIES  if food poisoning is this FUCKING BAD!??! HOW!?!?

She took my screaming in stride.
While I was in that hospital all night, my ex spent the hours madly getting the insurance in order with Mickey and sourcing the 100 prescriptions I needed to take home from the Guadalajara Pharmacia

OH. I almost forgot about that place.

The Guadalajara Pharmacia.

Sigh.

I loved that it there.
Antibiotics and Ativan all day long.
I’m not a big drug taker, really, but they are always nice to have, right?
Just in case.

The Guadalajara Pharmacia was fine and safe in the day time…but my ex told me later that it was NOT nearly as fine, at night.

SIDEBAR: The “producer” liked to tell the story (over and over again) about how every time he picked up a VERY WELL KNOWN drag queen at the airport outside of PV, he would drive her directly to the Guadalajara Pharmacia to get loads and loads of Valium.
END OF SIDEBAR.

Oh, AND AND AND AND AND AND AND AND AND AND AND after the food poisoning incident, which was literally one of the worst physical experiences of my life, I had to work the next night.
I WORKED THE NEXT NIGHT.
God bless Wayne…he played VERY fast.

When I dragged my VERY SICK ass into the “dressing room” before the show, the person performing before me (who shall remain nameless to protect them after the next story and is a lovely human) was counting out the money from her door receipts to pay her band members.
Donning the dress that I’m wearing in the above picture, I began pacing the TINY SPACE, weak, hoarse, AND AND AND AND AND AND AND AND AND AND AND AND AND fucking sick as a dog, AND (times infinity) was so scared of walking onstage, my hands were shaking.
She tried to talk me down as she continued to count out the rest of the money, asking me my biggest fear of going out there.
I told her that quite frankly, I was afraid of crapping my pants.

She clicked her teeth, and didn’t miss a beat in shuffling through the pesos…

She: It’s Mexico. Everyone shits their pants in Mexico.

Well.

SIDEBAR: One night, sitting in the audience at the amazingly talented Amy Armstrong’s show, I laughed my ass off after she took a drink from her glass of water between songs, turned to the audience and said…

She: Today, I learned to say “I pooped in your cab” in Spanish.

So, Mexico, huh?
END OF SIDEBAR.

There are many more things that happened in that month, some really awesome things…but that is for another day.

Yes.
Lessons many learned.

Power to all the warriors out there fighting the good fight and killing it on the stages of clubs everywhere.

Did you literally ever work so hard to make money at the VERY artistic thing you started off LIVING FOR, that it smashed the joy of that very thing right out of you?

Lesson number four thousand, know when to leave the building. : )
If even for a while.

But one day.
One day.

❤️

P.S. That is not a real piano. It’s a keyboard with a piano shell around it. Pretty smart, actually.

#howVERYdareshe #writer #solotraveler #actor #cdntv #joy #gratitude #lifeofabundance #lifeofadventure #nolimits #stories #nomorescarcitymindset #instagood #instafab #instafun #instaartist #instagram #instalove #instanature #photooftheday #picoftheday #instamood #shegotcurves #myhappinessmaylookdifferentthanyours #hikersofinstagram #cabaret #backintheday

P.S. I have to say…on my drive across Canada a couple of months ago (thank the sweet jesus I went) I started to knock around some new show ideas in my head…for ”after times” of course.

January 6th, 2022. – S.M.
Toronto, ON

As always, thank you for reading. I love that this is my first post of the year…lol. If you want to follow along and subscribe to my posts, fill in the space below! HAPPY NEW YEAR!!!