Mail Online

Ike took me to a seedy Tijuana brothel on our wedding night

BY THE time Ike proposed, we had four children between us and a shared career as the Ike and Tina Turner Revue.

Our wedding, he decided, would take place in Tijuana, Mexico, because they weren’t fussy about little things like having a marriage licence.

Tijuana was seedy and honkytonk in those days. Once we crossed over the border, we found the Mexican version of a Justice of the Peace in a small, dirty office. He pushed some papers across a desk for me to sign and that was it.

But as bad as that was, what came next was even worse. You see, so long as Ike was in downand-dirty Tijuana, he wanted to have fun, his kind of fun.

So he took me to a whorehouse. On my wedding night.

I’ve never, ever told anyone this story before. I was too embarrassed.

What kind of bridegroom takes his brand-new wife to a live pornographic sex show, right after their marriage ceremony? There I sat, in this filthy place, watching Ike out of the corner of my eye, wondering: ‘Does he really like this? How could he?’

It was all so ugly. The male performer was unattractive and seemingly impotent, and the girl – well, let’s just say that what was on display was more gynaecological than erotic. I was miserable, on the verge of tears, but there was no escape.

We couldn’t leave until Ike was ready and he was having a fine old time. The experience was so disturbing I just scratched it out.

By the time we got back to Los Angeles, I’d created a completely different scenario in my head

– a romantic elopement.

The following day, I was bragging to people: ‘Guess what? Oh, Ike took me to Tijuana. We got married yesterday.’

Dan Hodges

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2023-05-28T07:00:00.0000000Z

2023-05-28T07:00:00.0000000Z

https://mailonline.pressreader.com/article/282419878628107

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