Naive Gringo Pill Popped Below Border

But the truth is somewhere south of that notion, though nobody's saying Mexico isn't wildly different from the United States. The fact that it's a country Americans tend to love for its bargains and lax regulations didn't play into Burkhart's media campaign. And while Lindell went to Mexico because he could make a Valium purchase that wouldn't be available in the Valley, he apparently didn't bother to find out the Mexican modus operandi used by countless thousands of others who had done it before him without much of a problem. The comfortable American didn't bother to follow the rules in another country.

"It's no excuse for Americans not to know the law when they are in Mexico, just as it's not an excuse for Mexicans not to know the law in the U.S.," Feinman says. "Two different countries, two different sets of laws."

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Ray Lindell's arrest and that of several teenagers last spring -- who were dealing large quantities of Mexican-bought Soma in Valley high schools -- has hurt Nogales' image north of the border.

Pharmacy owners in Nogales are hurting. There are reports that tourists feel safer journeying to Los Algodones, about a three-hour drive from Phoenix, just south of Yuma, where there may be less heat from Mexican police.

It's true that recent events in Nogales have been good for Algodones street rats like Martin, 26. Nogales is full of young men who latch onto American tourists and help them find whatever they are looking for. But in Algodones, Martin is one of a hopeful handful of such "tour guides," and he's banking on the scare in Nogales bringing him more business.

Martin can provide tourists with everything from Soma to marijuana -- 48 kilos of it, he brags, just waiting for a buyer.

On a recent weekday afternoon, he leads a young couple past sidewalk souvenir stands to a back-street pharmacy where no prescription is necessary, no receipt is given and prices are double the amount imprinted on the box of "Neo-Percodan" -- which, it turns out, is not Percodan but a form of Darvon in a deceiving package.

Recreational drug users (like Martin's Percodan-seeking clients) have "burned" Nogales, he explains, meaning they have exploited the system to the point where authorities have been forced to react.

"Too much partying, too many problems. We don't have that here in Algodones," he says, smiling. "Yet!"

Los Algodones (population 5,000) is a swap meet of goods and services, mainly pharmacies, and optical and dental clinics. Most of the nearly two million tourists a year coming to the town to do business are in their 50s or older, most savvy enough to know the law, and have had less use for Martin's services than the young people who are starting to arrive.

Nogales is more of a party town, a cleaner, smaller version of Tijuana, where men like Oscar, 32, are part of the economic engine that drives the bustling place.

Oscar's what is known in Nogales as a "fixer," and, like Martin, he swears he can get "anything you want -- anything!" Most people come to him looking for narcotics and strippers, usually both.

"Pills and titty bars" are Oscar's professed areas of expertise. For each tourist he delivers to a pharmacy, he receives $5. Each strip club customer nets him $2, and certain restaurants pay him 50 cents for each table of gringos he directs their way.

Dressed in an oversize purple jersey, shorts and spotless running shoes, Oscar's face is somewhat pinched, his eyes everywhere at once. He's been up for a few days and looks it, but he's more wired than tired. It appears there's more than just hustle in his bloodstream.

Oscar hails from Ciudad Obregon, an agricultural town in Sonora. He has worn many hats since leaving his home for the north. Today he wears none; his black hair is buzzed, the left side of his head notable for a large patch of pure white about the size of a baby-jar lid. "A birthmark," he explains.

Later in the day, a dazed man carrying a plastic sack full of discarded soda cans will stop him on the street and tenderly touch the white spot while closing his eyes and murmuring something under his breath.

"It's a benediction," Oscar says, somewhat shyly. He means that the white in Oscar's hair is a symbol that he has been touched by God. "They think it is a blessing I am giving them. It happens all the time."

Oscar was a coyote in '92, he says, and brags of a daring run across the border in plain sight of immigration authorities, with him leading a group of 48 migrants at $20 a head. He doesn't do that anymore, he says. He's more of a broker for sex and drugs than a partaker these days. "I don't drink. If I want to smoke a joint or do a line or two, I do that at home, alone. I don't want any more trouble."