Mexico City. District Federal. Or as I like to call it; Mexico, Mexico, Mexico. A city, a state, a country. One of the largest cities in the world, it maintains a population of around 26 million citizens.
Now how the hell did I get here? It's a two day bus ride from Puerto Vallarta via the slow bus and I seem to have magically appeared out of nowhere. The only realization that we've arrived comes from an irritated bus driver telling me to vamos. Let's retrace events, shall we?
I bought my ticket through a mix of trash spanish and wild hand gestures, pointing to a map on the bus station wall. A quick quesadilla for the road before I go through another 48 hours in a "first class" bus seat.
Security check. Mexican federales, with their full automatic overkill stand imposingly by the xrays and metal detectors. I figure like American TSA agents, it's more for show rather than deadly Mexican justice. I put my bags through the scanner. All clear. Obviously they can't x-ray my bike so I walk through in plain view with a water bottle full of marijuana infused cooking oil. Everything goes as smooth as Rob Thomas. Soon we're moving and the soldiers disappear behind a wall of mountains.
Know what time it is? It's party time! I take a gulp of my inebriating concoction. It tastes like somebody took an oily shit in my bottle as some sort of sick practical joke. Gagging, I chase it down with a mexi-soda similar to 7 up. Only thing left to do is wait.
Something to know about me; I am not what you would call "a patient man". About half an hour goes by without so much as a buzz.
Impatient, I take another shot. This tastes worse than before and slides down my throat like eel slime. Gag. Chase. Wait. I may be getting a few looks from the locals. A gringo drinking from one bottle, holding back puke, then shoving off brand soda from another bottle into his pie hole raises questions. I neither notice nor care.
Another half an hour goes by and I'm almost certain I've fucked this operation up. Logical decision; take two more shots!
Oh god. Dios mio. The oil almost comes back for a rematch this time. Thankfully though I swallow like a porn star and everything is kosher.
Suddenly I'm very, very hungry. Are these the munchies? Digging in my bag I eat a weeks worth of jerky, granola bars, and melted almond joys. Right now there's a buzz in my head and the bees are starting to swarm. Still coming up on my THC rollercoaster, I'm flying over the mountains. I'm high as a kite. Blasted like an astronaut. There are no problems in this world that could bring me back to earth. The spanish dubbed american movies are suddenly hilarious. Adam Sandler ducks around his movie with the classic stupidity I've come to love, but now he's a mexi-jew! This is too much. I laugh like a special kid finger painting pictures of dicks. The feeling is probably the same.
The bus leans dangerously over the cliffs. No guard rails. I look out of my window as the bus leans over at a startingly diagonal angle on a particularly treacherous stretch of road and I have my last coherent thought.
"We're all going to die on this bus... I'm okay with that. Hehehehe..."
Well that's it. Next thing I know, I'm waking up in District Federal with around 30 hours completely unaccounted for. I don't know what I did, what I ate, the sights I saw, or the women I came on to. Luckily, I didn't soil myself, so I'll count it as a win.
Here in Mexico, that's something to be happy about.
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