29 January 2018
The blues of the early dawn in Mexico and quite unlike the early day in many of the places I've visited. The places I've woken up so far in, the blues tend to mute the color of things, leaning toward a greyish/greenish world of morning. It is often that I have to wait an hour or so for the color to return to the world. Here however, everything is a smudged blue that transitions to a soft purple.
Wiping the sleep from my eyes, I get up to go to do my morning constitutional. There is a loud tapping on the metallic door, as I pass by it, and I shuffle on by quickly, someone from the staff will get it. Unfortunately the bathroom is occupied, so I step over to the stairwell and wait for it to open. The tapping sounds again and I listen as there's an incoherent shout from the bathroom, "Si! Si! Un Momento!" Or something along those lines, I'm just guessing here.
Flush, then one of the men who was sleeping on the couches yesterday trundles out of the bathroom, and I stealthily enter in after. Of course, I should have let it air out first, but I've been through Amarillo Texas just as the sun hits the cow fields, so this stench isn't really the worst thing I've experienced. Through my morning routines I pass by the breakfast area several times, and to my disappointment none of the cereals, juices, or sweetbreads appear. Breakfast was a lie.
The Mexico City Airport is massive, I shuffle through it a reasonable pace back a forth looking for the check-in spot. I croak out some Spanish to the lady at the helpdesk, I think I mix up the words for 'Where' and 'How much' by the expression she makes. But, taking it in stride she scrunches up her face then gives me perfectly detailed instructions. My stomach sinks when I see the line to get to the gate, but then I relax when I overhear 'viente minutos' and indeed the line does move faster than I expect. Of course, paying for my baggage with cash poses a problem, they don't except US, and I will not change anymore money into pesos. Good thing that I have just enough money to cover it on my card, which means that I don't have anymore money on my card now, so, hopefully everyone else excepts cash of some kind.
The security theater of the Mexican airport is a breeze compared to the US. No need to remove shoes, no need to stand in front of a weird imaging machine, I don't even need to take out my computer. I do it anyway, because it just seems like a good habit to have. I can't say why. There's a young man with a raspy voice in one of the weird lines shouting at his friends at the incredibly busy gate. He is speaking English, I'm sure of it, as I set my carry-on down and wait the 20 or so minutes for the boarding to begin.
This plane to New York is packed, and it is also boring. I try to chat with the gay couple that sits next to me, first in Spanish, then in English, but they are completely disinterested. The one next to me is better at Spanish, and he looks like he could be hispanic, but I suspect that he's of Asian descent, and really good at learning languages. The other is a white guy with red hair and a very effeminate tone, looks like Tarzan, sounds like Jane type. They quickly fall asleep holding hands, which is just too adorable.
The raspy voiced dude sits down across the aisle with a friend of his. Unfortunately his third friend is split up from the other two and sits in the group of seats in front of me. The third seat is taken up by a pretty dark haired lady, who already seems like she's had enough. Thus follows a half-hour raspy voiced rap as we taxi from the gate to the strip. Eventually the lady can take no more and asks the stewardess if she could change seats. Their friend jumps up from the seats in front of us, and sits down next to them and they cajole and make merry for the rest of the flight.
I settle in with my headphones and alternate between french lessons and Doctor Who. Snacks are some oatmeal cookies, a cheese sandwich and a bottle of green tea. JFK Airport eventually envelopes my being. We are led through towards baggage claim, and after that customs. An agent roams the baggage carousel with a droopy eyed bloodhound. A flight attendant watches with disdain as it paws and sniffs at her luggage. I have to fill out another form to return to the country, have my passport checked, and lucky for me, my bags don't have to be searched.
The New York Subway system is always filled with interesting characters. In Mexico City, people came on and off the subway there with bags full of nuts and dried seeds, shouting and offering their wares to anyone who'd be interested. In New York, a young man holds a box filled with candy and announces in a very polite way, what his name is, and what he is selling, before quickly getting off at the next stop. Somewhere down in the center of the city, a large hulking man announces that he has food and water for those who are in need and that he is collecting donations. I slide him a few dollars because I had never seen that before and that's a cool idea. But he also is on and off very quickly.
In the mean time, there are the usual subway suspects, loud laughing ladies; a man with skin tight, brightly colored pants, and a red page boy wig; some Asian tourists with cameras; a thrift store Ingénue with tweed jacket, hat, argyle blouse and lotsa bags. I'm always fascinated by the shifting styles of dress, and changing skin tones of people as the subways moves outer to inner to upper city, and after an hour an a half, I huff up my belongings and venture to the Irish restaurant where I am meeting my family.