Mexico really did have some redeeming qualities. Really!
I mean, the money was all gold and bad-ass looking. And, it's not like I can't communicate with the gentle Mexican peoples. I speak Spanish, after all!
It's not like I'm compleeetely incapable of communicating with my brothas to the South. It's just that, I'm not very good at it.
I was waiting outside the public bathrooms, 5 pesos in hand, ready to pay the admission fee, (That's right, the gas stations charge you to use their shitter. I guess its no surprise why everybody seems to be apparently content with using the bushes nearby.) when some guy came up to me and asked if i was in the line to use the restroom. (I realize what he wanted to know only after extensive analysis of what he could have possibly wanted, and by asking my Mom.) But his Spanish was no ordinary Spanish. This was, SuperSpanish. Similar to the English that might come out of a drunken auctioneer. Really fast, and really slurred. So after this stream of words came out of his mouth, i was in complete shock. I stared at the guy for like, 10 seconds, then slowly pointed to the door and said, with my best spanish accent possible:
So he asked again, " tueoaidoaiduroaieuaroaeroaoraebroieaeraeaberoereibreabano?" My response:
He asked a third time, and i realized that changing the punctuation of the same word wasn't cutting it for an answer. So this time, i realized the gift given to me by God that will enable me to communicate with people of any language, at the expense of my dignity.
I was like: "Yo(finger point)
Apparently it worked, cause after that he just nodded and went away. I don't think he even wanted to use the restroom, probably just wanted to mess with Americans. But damnit, a beautiful thing happened at that moment. I had finally communicated with an actual Mexican citizen. Using my extensive point/flail technique, I was able to get across any idea that i wanted to, even if it resulted in spinning around with my arms outstretched, to resemble an airplane.
Deleon would be proud.