The sugar junkies roll in with the evening shadows, craving the high that only comes from the other side of the border. For it is here, at this corner of notoriously murderous Juarez, that they find the eye of the storm - or perhaps more appropriately, the hole in the doughnut of danger.
They're here to meet the Krispy Kreme Familia, which, as the Los Angeles Times reported, makes regular runs from El Paso across the border to supply buyers with dozens of black-market Krispy Kreme doughnuts.
"The original -- glazed -- are the most popular," Sonia Garcia, budding doughnut lord, told the newspaper. "But, honestly, everybody has their own favorite doughnut."
There are 100 Krispy Kreme locations in Mexico, but alas, for the citizenry of Juarez, the city's only franchise shut its doors several years ago. That paved the way for the enterprising Garcia, 51, and her two sons to set up their sugary ring and forge control of the black-market doughnut trade.
With a knowing - and totally in jest, obviously - nod to cartel-ian lingo, they dubbed themselves the Krispy Kreme Familia. (Hey, narcos: It's not personal. It's strictly business.)
The operation even has a Facebook page and has a hotline for bulk orders. While the effort has yet to inspire anyone to pen any Krispy-corridos, Garcia says demand has proved profitable enough for her to put one son through engineering school.
Thousands of border-area Mexicans cross into the U.S. on a regular basis via visitor and work visas, the Garcias included. (The same goes for Americans heading the other way for jobs or family visits.)
One of Garcia's sons drives into El Paso every few days and snaps up about 40 dozen boxes of Krispy Kremes for about $5 a box. The doughnut traffickers then sell the boxes at two Juarez locations for about $8 apiece, pulling up in their sedan with a banner reading "Krispy Kreme Donas," using the Spanish word for the treat.
One might note that in terms of fried bready substances, Mexico already has churros, sopapillas and bunuelos. That doesn't stop Garcia from craving a jelly-filled Krispy Kreme from time to time.
"I don't know why, but these are just softer and better," she said of the doughnuts comedian Chris Rock once compared to crack.
A buyer pulled up one evening: Juanita Gabriela Gaytan, who Garcia allowed to compile her own box from a variety of glazed, sprinkled, cream-filled and other Krispy Kreme doughnuts.
"I don't come here that often," she told the Times. "Well, maybe two or three times a week."
