'I crossed the border at dawn. Tijuana was just coming awake as I turned onto Revolucion, it's main drag. Child beggars were digging for breakfast in trash cans, taco vendors were stirring pots of dog-meat stew, sailors and marines were being escorted out of whorehouses at the end of their five-spot all nighters. The smarter ones stumbled over to Calle Colon and the penicillin pushers; the stupidos hotfooted toward East TJ, the Blue Fox and the Chicago Club--no doubt eager to catch the early morning donkey show. Tourist cars were already lined up outside the cut-rate upholstery joints; Rurales driving prewar Chevys cruised like vultures, wearing black uniforms that looked almost like Nazi issue.'
--James Ellroy
The Black Dhalia