256 AMERICAN SPYmy friend “Don Chuy” to illustrate the bad guy side of the equation. Dis-
cretion and the fact that relevant statutes of limitations have yet to expire
prevent me from revealing too many additional details about Don Chuy.
Walt, Don Chuy, and I met up for lunch at cash-only Gilbert’s El Indio
restaurant in Santa Monica for chicken enchiladas and to review the game
plan. Walt was initially unsure of what to make of this “odd couple” seated
across from him, but by the time the lunch had ended, he seemed eager to
move forward. A few days later, Don Chuy and I were showing our celeb-
rity writer friend the ropes in some of Tijuana’s more colorful neighbor-
hoods. I demonstrated for Walt how a CIA officer might operate and watch
for surveillance in a place like Tijuana, while Don Chuy took us on a cook’s
tour of seedy bars and brothels. If only Breaking Bad’s brilliant narcocor-
rido, “Negro y Azul: The Ballad of Heisenberg,” had been playing over
Don Chuy’s car radio, everything would have been perfect.
Later that evening, the three of us met up for dinner, along with several
of my local friends, at Cien Años, a phenomenal Mexican restaurant a few
miles south of the border. The memorable, hours-long dinner involved
mariachis, molcajete salsa, raucous laughter, and multiple rounds of smooth
reposado tequila. About the only other thing I remember from that night
was Don Chuy’s masterful recounting of a scene from a Jackass-like movie,
where two guys dressed up like a zebra and stood in front of a lion’s den to
see what would happen.
After dinner, we all bade each other a tipsy farewell and somehow
made our way back to our hotels.
Several months later, I was curious about the status of the new show. I
called Walt and learned that, unfortunately, the studio heads had decided
not to move forward with the idea.
The Tijuana excursion was not a total waste of time, however. Don
Chuy remained in contact with Walt, eventually convincing him to incor-
porate his family name into Breaking Bad. If you’ve ever wondered why the
German parent company of Los Pollos Hermanos is called a very Spanish-
sounding Madrigal Electromotive GmbH, wonder no more.