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December 1, 2010
A Bridge Too Far
Always, I'm back in Mexico. Always back in Mexico and it never turns out right. Always, things begin to unravel, just like they didn't do last time.
I'm in Mexico with my friends but now the camera around my neck isn't mine. It's a Leica and I'm like...Holy sh1t where's my camera. And who's camera is this? And I go back to look for my camera and of course, I can't find it. But now I can't find my friends, either.
So, now I've lost my camera and my support group and I'm alone, wandering the streets of some third world country with precious little. I'm not sure where I am, so I start asking strangers where we are in my broken Spanish.
"Donde soy?"
"Como se llama este cuidad?"
But nothing works. I'm getting different answers. I can't figure out what city we're in, or even what country.
I'm trying to figure out how to get to the airport. If I can get to the airport, then I can somehow make it back home. Just hand them a pile of cash and purchase a ticket back to sanity and the good 'ole USA. But I can't figure out how to get back there.
So, I'm riding around with a couple of guys in a little third-world coco-taxi and we approach a checkpoint. Clearly a border crossing, and I'm trying to understand what border it is that we're crossing, but I can't get it. Can't sus it out.
We approach a university that's built squarely on the border between the United States and this third world hell and on the U.S. side, all of the buildings are immaculate and clean. On the other side of the border, at the same university, the buildings are crumbling like the amazing ruins of old Havana.
The people in the coco-taxi can't get me home but the alarm clock does and now I'm in a new nightmare. I'm wide awake in a Wisconsin December.
Outside, the snow is falling, covering the sidewalks. A little lap-man walks delicately across the white concrete sidewalks sprinkling rock-salt from a bucket, careful not to fall and break his hip.
The first day of December I awake to flurries and snow in the parking lot. I almost made it. My last day is Dec 3rd or 4th. I was so close. But I can't drive the bike today. I'm not that stupid. I have a low tolerance for pain and sliding down the interstate and getting run over by an 18-wheeler is not something I'm interested in.
So I throw in the towel and call for a cab.
Posted by Rob Kiser on December 1, 2010 at 8:29 AM
Comments
Did I tell you about the time I saw the guy laying in the street where he slid after having been hit by a car while riding his "bike"? He was 25 yards from his bike and his shoe was a few yards from him and rescue workers were everywhere. Good decision to call the cab:)
Posted by: Debbie Downer on December 1, 2010 at 7:26 PM
Did I ever tell you about the time we were riding on I10 into NO and I saw a body fly through the air and land on the side of the road. When we got to the spot, it was a man having been detached from his motorcycle. Who Knew?
Posted by: Yomama on December 5, 2010 at 8:21 AM