After living in Acapulco for years, one morning in 2011 I got a phone call from someone, a drug cartel gang member perhaps, threatening to behead me if I didn’t pay a ransom. Multiple murders and beheadings were happening regularly in town. Recently, a good friend of mine had been chased down the main strip, his body riddled with bullets as the violent confrontation came to an end, all within earshot of my apartment nearby. These things were all too real. In 2002 I moved to Acapulco, Mexico, a tropical beach town long past its prime, but still a kind of paradise. Corrupt cops educated me on the rules of the road, and I learned how to get things done by greasing palms with increasing quantities of pesos. When things got too dangerous, I lost my beach. This is a story of culture, of crime, and of resolution.