Mexico Monday: The Monday-Bloody-Monday edition
In which we're all over the place, including the ER
Hello peepsicles!
How art thou? Millie and I have been all over creation and back. Here’s Millie kickin’ it in La Condesa, our fav barrio in Mexico City, where lush parks and tasty tacos abound and cute dogs almost outnumber the stylish chilangos.
In case you’ve been staying up nights wondering where I am, this map shows a recent travel trajectory.
Currently shoehorned into the guestroom at Chez Erica in Palo Alto, we’re poised to make that long haul back up to Seattle. In which (imagine the drawling voice of Fred Armisen, from “The Californians” sketch on SNL):” You take the 101 to the 237 to the 880 to the 680 to the 80 to the 505 to the 5…”
In these five months of travel, there have been beginnings and endings and loop-de-loops and airport snafus and bloody e-bike accidents and selling of Seattle houses and stressful dreams about various exes (Please go away). But also relaxed moments catching up with old friends (and meeting new ones) in various picturesque locales.
But let’s get right down to those snafus, shall we? Those are always the funnest.
Cuz no one wants to hear about your swoony sunsets, your sultry margaritas, your idyllic days on the beach — although idyllic only retrospect because at the time, the wind was blowing sand into your chips and salsa, and you were cold because you didn’t bring your puffy jacket because who brings a puffy jacket to the beach in Mexico, but you forgot that this was Baja and it’s always windy in the winter!
You’d prolly rather hear about how I nearly got kicked out of the CDMX airport enroute to Denver, wouldn’t you?
So here goes:
Int. Morning. Security checkpoint at the Mexico City airport.
Our protag is putting stuff onto the X-ray machine belt. She’s already frazzled from getting up at 4:30 AM and spending forever checking in due to airport employee SLOWNESS. Realizes belatedly she has two small bottles of water that she forgot to get rid of and makes the terrible decision to pour a little water in Millie’s bowl - which Millie her Royal Highness then flatly refuses to drink.
ME (nervously): I have these bottles of water I forgot about.
AIRPORT BEEYOTC*: Just put those in the tray.
ME (gesturing at dog bowl): OK, I have a little bit of water in this bowl - can I dump it somewhere?
AIRPORT B: (Staring at the 1/2 inch of water in Millie’s bowl). You’re not allowed in here with that.
ME (Voice rising) : What do you mean? Can’t I just throw it out?
AIRPORT B: You have to leave here to do that.
ME (In rapidly deteriorating Spanish): What do you mean, LEAVE HERE?
AIRPORT B (sternly): Go out of here and back into the other room.
ME: (Staring at Airport B in disbelief because there is no way I’m packing my sh*t up and going through security again although if I’d ACTUALLY gotten to the airport 3 hours early as planned, this wouldn’t matter so much. Then defiantly grabbing Millie’s bowl and pouring the water back into the bottle from whence it had come, spilling half of it on the floor. Oops.)
AIRPORT B: (Pissed) No! Now, you need to leave! Out!
ME: Ignoring her, getting tissues out of backpack and rapidly starting to wipe water off the floor, meanwhile holding up the line.
AIRPORT B: (talking to colleague): She dumped water on the floor - she needs to leave!
ME: Wiping, wiping, wiping.
PEOPLE IN LINE: Muttering.
AIRPORT B: Glaring.
COLLEAGUE: (Comes over to me, sees no water on the floor. Pauses.) “OK you can go through.”
PHEW. After that, things were smoother, although Millie did get patted down (as usual) and we had to walk about ten miles to our gate, and there was no coffee or breakfast or relaxed gathering-of-ones-wits before getting on our international flight because the plane was already boarding when we got there.
Lessons learned: Avoid crack-of-dawn flights and always carry tissues!
You might also like to hear about my bike accident in Steamboat Springs Colorado, methinks. Since we’re running out of time before your miniscule attention spans give out, let’s try a haiku — something I haven’t dabbled in since fourth grade.
Bare trees and river
E-bike rider falls hard. Oops.
Cold air but warm blood.
Mind you, this was a bike walking accident, rather than a bike riding accident. In which I accidentally activated the throttle, the borrowed e-bike pulled me forward, and I fell on top of it. No internal injuries occurred, just a mere laceration of the jewel box, which necessitated an embarrassing urgent care visit followed by an embarrassing ER visit for stitches, for which I have now only just received the bill, ouch.
But heck, better $500 than my one wild and precious life!
And with that, I bid you adieu, fair ones.
xo
Rebecca
Thanks for the laugh. Glad I’m not alone in the travel snafus.
You fell on your bike. As in "on".