Once Upon A Time In Mexico

Thanks to this gig I have called “work”, I am called upon from time to travel on the company nickel.  I am in the middle of one of these stints now.  Mexico City has been my home away from home for over three weeks now.  I have never been here before and did not know what to expect, besides what I had seen from watching “Once Upon A Time In Mexico”.   Don’t watch that movie before going to Mexico.

A Tender Love Story It Is Not

There are many things to like about this place.  One of my favorite things is food (I try to eat some of it everyday) and the food here has been great.  Food here is also inexpensive.  I’m reminded of a comment I heard when I was working in rural Italy regarding a local restaurant: “The food there is cheap, and it is good, so it must be the best”.  Indeed.

But the more time I’ve spent here, the more it has become apparent that something is going on , and it ain’t pretty.  I cannot fathom why the major news organizations have not taken this story and run with it, because it makes the fighting going on in Syria right now look like a Playboy Bunny pillow fight.  There is a war going on here.  A hidden war.  You might be thinking I’m talking of the war on drugs, and you’d be wrong.

The war I’m talking about is going on right under the noses of the citizen’s of this fair city.  Some seem to be oblivious to the battle, while others won’t talk about it because they know what is good for them.

The story is this: there exists a band of rebels known as the Mexican Anti-Sidewalk Coalition (MASC).  Their sworn goal is the destruction of every square inch of sidewalk in this town.  Sure.  Go ahead and laugh.  But I’ve got the pictures to prove it.  First, some background.

Driving in Mexico City is insanity incarnate.  It is a well known fact that many insurance companies won’t insure someone taking their vehicle in to parts of Mexico.  A taxi driver gave us shit the other day for opening the driver’s side door when getting out of the car because you can apparently get a ticket for doing so.  However, making a right turn from the leftmost lane and cutting off the other two lanes of traffic here is perfectly acceptable,.  Running solid red lights while barely slowing down won’t elicit a second glance from the local Policia.

For this reason we have drivers that take us to work and back.  These drivers take our lives into their hands twice a day, and do so with apparent reckless abandon.  One of these drivers (Mario, I’ll call him, for that is his name) would cross himself just as we’d start each journey.  At first this worried me that I thought he had to do that.  Now I’m thinking that I was glad that he was taking out that little bit of extra insurance.

The drive is a lengthy one, ranging from 40-95 minutes every day.  This gives us passengers plenty of time to stare out the window and watch the streets of Mexico City go by.  Sometimes we’d joke about that which was so different from where we were from.  Take this hole for example.

What's Wrong With This Picture?

Now there are numerous differences between this hole and a hole back home.  The first thing that jumps out at you is that this hole is not round.  Far from it, in fact (the root cause is likely the spent toilet paper tubes used as concrete forms during its construction).  Second, note that the grass around the hole is neither green nor flat, despite having been laid just a week ago.  Third, this hole is ten feet deep and left uncovered in a well traveled area that, to boot, is unlit at night.  Here they call this hole a hole.  Back home, we’d call this hole a lawsuit waiting to happen.  But I digress, and quite substantially.

It was from these idle observations on the twice daily drive that we put the pieces together and realized just what was going on here.  Proof for my claims?  I have plenty.

The battles between the Federales Sidewalko (the government’s Sidewalk Police) and the MASC are intense and in close quarters.  Here we see the Sidewalko constructing their latest generation super-sidewalk, known colloquially as the “double-wide”…

The Next Big Thing In Sidewalk Technology

… while on just the other side of the barrier we found this.

Complete Distruction

Incredibly, these last two pictures were taken from within this walled federal compound…

These Dudes Mean Business

… where elite government forces would be more than happy to bring their .50 calibre friends to the party for so much as chalking “Joanie Loves Chachi” on one of their concrete masterpieces.

Say "Hello" To My Little Friend

The MASC usually conduct their operations at night.  Only smashed pieces of rubble are left behind to litter the street, just as warriors of old would put the decapitated heads of their vanquished enemies on a pike as a warning to the others.

The MASC Were Here

However, seasoned veterans of the MASC show their bravado by conducting the most difficult of operations in broad daylight.  It takes a man made of naught but nails and grit to take on something this size with nothing but a sledgehammer.

This Guy Has 'Nads

It is thus beyond imagination that he did so completely shunning the opportunity to bring a readily accessible piece of heavy equipment to the party.  You want to talk about making a statement?

This Is A Statement

The Sidewalko have made various attempts to disrupt the activities of the MASC.  They have placed boobytraps throughout the city at sites where they believe the MASC will strike next.  However, these boobytraps are totally ineffective because of their crude construction.  They are easily identified by sections of sidewalk that rise up from surrounding sections for no reason whatsoever.  They do nothing but trip the unsuspecting pedestrian, as happened to this citizen just moments before this picture was taken.

Hello Obvious

The guerrilla warface tactics of the MASC make it unlike that the Federales Sidewalko will put an end to their activities anytime soon.  At the same time, the MASC do not yet have the numbers to accomplish their goal.  The result is, predictably, a stalemate.  Each side can claim their share of battles, but neither can win the war.  Me?  I wouldn't mind seeing a little more grass on the boulevards of this town.

My Intrepid Field Assistant Risked Everything For This Picture

More on this story as it develops.

My Surreal Life

I'm typing this at around 35,000 feet, on the second of two flights home and will paste it into my blog when I get back.  It is always a good feeling coming back.  And this was an interesting trip.

I picked up a Nook Color e-Reader at Barnes and Noble. We don't have B&N where I'm from and I took the opportunity on this state-side trip to pick one up.  I was thinking that the chances were pretty good of picking one up when I walked into the store based on the reviews I'd read.  It was a little bigger than I thought it would be, but the screen on this thing is fantastic and the capacitive touch screen is excellent.  The decision to plunk down the cash was surprisingly easy.  And I consider myself a pretty frugal guy.

There has been some pretty cool stuff happening on the hacking front with the NC (Nook Color) that turns this $250 device into almost a mini-iPad.  Just this past weekend, an intrepid group of hackers seems to have gotten Bluetooth going on it as icing on the cake (Hello GPS).  Now I need to pick up a decently fast microSD card (Class 2 just won't do it) and make it dance.  Android Honeycomb is sounding a bit shakey on it right now, so trying that is likely going to wait a few weeks until the official source code drops from Google.  In the meantime, I'll probably play with Froyo.  The great thing about the NC is that it treats whatever is on the microSD slot as the primary boot device.  So if you've got a custom ROM properly configured on the SD card, it preferentially boots to that rather than its internal ROM.  No JailBreaking required.

Another thing I did was max out my liquor exemption again.  This time around I picked up 750ml of Godiva Chocolate Liquor and 375ml of Peach Brandy for My Lovely Wife.  Booze is a relative steal in the US, so I try to bring something back whenever I get the chance.

But on to the events of today.  First thing this morning, I found myself in an industry roundtable listening to some major CEO's of the business talk about where they are at and where they are headed.  I was pretty amused by some of the subtle and not so subtle shots they were taking at each other.  After the roundtable, we talked to some vendors, got taken out to lunch by another vendor, and then went on to talk to yet more vendors.  It was a good change for me since I'm usually doing stuff more technically focused than this.

Mid-afternoon came and it was time to grab a cab to the airport.  The ride itself was pretty exciting. Driven by a middle-Eastern Mario Andretti, we got through downtown and to the airport in record time.  There was a bit of a lull in the excitement during check-in and security.  That is always a good thing though.  Got to the gate with time to spare, just in time to see that my flight was delayed.  The delay was 20 minutes, cutting in to the two hour gap to the follow-on flight.  Still lots of time, or so one would think.

We got off the plane and got down to the immigration area where a huge mass of humanity was gathered.  I had never seen so many people packed into immigration there, and I've been through there a lot.  My heart started to beat a little quicker as I worried about missing my flight.  Whether I was supposed to or not, I went into a separate, smaller lineup where another small commotion was just sorting itself out.  A worker in the floor above must have somehow slipped and he came crashing down through the suspended ceiling right into the immigation area.  I got there just after he had dusted himself and got back to work.  It was a little surreal to watch the security people cordoning off the area with big cardboard Inukshuks.

I breezed through customs and got down to Baggage Carousel 10 to get my checked bag.  I waited.  And waited.  And waited.  My heart was starting to beat a little faster again as I was eating into the time I had to make my connecting flight.  I could tell the guy waiting next to me was getting a little worried too.  So he wanders over to the next carousel and ends up finding his bag there!  Sure enough, I go over there and mine shows up on the "wrong" carousel after a minute as well!  Better lucky than good, so I grab my bag, get out of customs, and get through security and into the Business Class lounge in time for a bowl of minestrone soup and a plate of vegetables.  Sweet.

The weekend coming up looks to be action packed.  As always, I'll get in my workouts.  I also want to make another loaf of bread as I seem to be getting my technique down after eleven mediocre attempts.  And my logic analyzer finally got through customs and is sitting at home waiting for me.  This is going to let me get a real close look at the way my weather station console is configuring the radio receiver chip.  From there I'll see if I can get my Pretty Pink Pager implementation going.  Should be interesting.  However, I also think I need to do some work work this weekend to catch up on stuff I should have been doing during this trip.  So much to do, so little time.

But that is a couple days ahead.  Within the next couple hours, I'll land, drive the long dark road home, kiss my wife, play with my dog, and just be happy to be back home.

Home time.

As I write this, I'm somewhere around 30,000 feet and heading home.  It is about 9:00 pm local time and we're heading west.  The setting sun lights up the clouds I look down upon in oranges and reds.  The green of the land below comes up at me through the haze.  It is a spectacular view.

Today has been a pretty good day.  The course I was giving wrapped up early so we went out for a long lunch at a noisy but tasty Mexican place.  They paid.  I got out of there and hit the airport with tons of time to spare.  As I was waiting in a long line in security, a new scanner opened up right in front of me and I was in and through in no time.  After that I was hungry so I stopped off in Terminal A for a Five Guys burger: I was pleased to learn that they have a well deserved reputation for making a mean set of patties.  Flew in to my first stop with a business lounge pass in hand, so I could hang out until the next flight in comfort.  On the flight home, I scan through the list of movies on the screen in front of me and Fight Club is on.  I had forgotten just how excellent this movie is.  I really enjoyed it the first time, but it is even better the second time.  If you haven't watched it twice, do yourself the favor.

My checked bag contains a razor sharp knife, a blowtorch, three bottles of booze, and $20 dollars worth of squeaky toys for the dog.  I'll land while it is still light outside.  Tomorrow the weekend starts.  Life is good.

Bad food is bad.

I like food.

And I travel now and then for work.  Like right now.  That usually means having to eat out.  But on my last couple of trips, I've been traveling solo.  So the first order of business after arriving has been to hit a local grocery store and get a bit of food.  This time round I got myself a BBQ chicken, some cottage cheese, and some fruit and vegetables.  All that went into the fridge in my room, and I was a happy camper.

As often as not, I'll eat out someplace and be pretty disappointed by the quality of the food.  A couple nights ago I went to a mall to hit up a Williams Sonoma (don't have one back home) to pick up two things: a blowtorch for my Sous Vide cooking and a Global boning knife for, well, its general awesomeness.  I was starving by the time I got my gear so I hit a restaurant in the mall.  My spidey senses were tingling, trying to tell me that this place didn't hold a lot of promise.  But I needed to eat.  I ordered up a sirloin steak.  They were out, so I went with the New York Strip instead.

Bad move.  The steak I got was a mass of gristle.  There didn't seem to be a single spot on it that didn't have the consistency of silicone rubber.  I couldn't even cut through the garbage in front of me.  I called the waiter over and asked for another steak.  The manager came by a few minutes later and at least apologized, saying they had never seen such a bad steak come out of their kitchen.

The next one came out.  It had a big clump of fat on either end that I cut away.  It was also cut unevenly and overcooked in the thin part.  I paid $22 for this?  I was beyond caring at this point and ate it anyway.  It was a 12oz steak and I was still hungry after finishing it.  I was signing my bill when one guy comes along and asks if they can offer me a free desert. 

Boy, let me think.  I didn't want a desert.  In fact, I rarely eat desert.  I wanted a decent steak.  And what were the odds that their crappy kitchen would have the capacity to put out an awesome desert worth pounding back 500 calories and making up for a shitty meal?  About zero, so no thanks.  I left, yearning for that hour of my life back.

So: Norton's American Grill and Pub in Tyson Center Mall: Piss On You.