The City IV

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sleeping policemen

What is this town he has taken us to? Who are these angry people?

Luna eases his car over a big bump.

You know what this is called? he says.
Tope, I say. Speed bump.
A sleeping policeman, says Luna.

The exhaust pipe grates on the bump.

Ouch, says Brutus. There goes the muffler...
Is nada, says Luna.

Stream of people heading into the plaza.

What's going on here? says Ajo.
They protest something, says Luna.
They're pissed, says Ajo. Big time.
They want a sewer, says Luna. Who can say.
Maybe get rid of the sleeping policemen, I say.

We skirt the edge of the zocalo, just like the one I'm reading about in the newspaper. Here's how it goes:

Bunch of men without their shirts stand with their hands tied behind their backs, like a group of bandits or flagellants from an Easter parade. Big ones, small ones, mostly fat ones. Some with moustaches, big Zapata moustaches, small Cuban moustaches. Head up, defiant. Head down, humiliated. Holsters empty.

Young guy with a hailer is addressing the crowd as others splash gas around the feet, the boots, of their hostages.

A bad situation, says Luna.
Paper says the students are threatening to set fire to the cops, I say. All because a couple of them got expelled?
There will be other issues, says Luna.

A burning donkey lunges out, almost collides. The fire is in its sling packs. Bucks wildly in the narrow calle to the screams of women. A man tries to throw a blanket over it. Kids dance and laugh. Donkey skitters down a side lane, a short man in pursuit.

That was close, says Ajo. Jeeze.
Got insurance, Luna? I say.
Senor, how is it in your country? says Luna. If a burro is on fire and it jumps on your car, you have insurance?

In Mexico City

In Mexico City you can have your car fixed on the spot by renegade mechanics who patrol the streets on skateboards
In Mexico City you can have a love letter written by a blind typist who sits in a public square
In Mexico City you can relieve an itch by rubbing yourself against a slab of tezontle stone, otherwise known as blood stone, otherwise known as building stone
In Mexico City you can see a phalanx of bikers on the Avenue of the Dead and their widows holding up petitions outside The Ministry of the Third Culture
In Mexico City you can be fondled, groped and fucked in the rushhour crush on the subway and not realize it
In Mexico City you can dine in the Zona Rosa with a personality from TV Azteca, watch him get shot as he leaves the restaurant
In Mexico City you can visit The Museum of the Unknown Culture with a bag over your head (if they let you see it, you know it is propaganda, senor)
In Mexico City you can count the earthquake cracks, or the earthquake survivors in the earthquake cracks
In Mexico City you can photograph doorways with bullet holes, photograph bullet holes, photograph the unknown, unaccountable holes
In Mexico City you can watch Canada defeat Mexico in a soccer match, watch the NHL in Spanish, watch people watching federales watching
In Mexico City you can climb steps that lead to an invisible door in a red wall for invisible people
In Mexico City you can ride to the top of the Latin America tower, imagine you can see volcanos in the distance
In Mexico City you can see the Golden Angel from your room, your street, your taxi but never discover its location
In Mexico City you can buy a picture of Frida Kahlo making love to Leon Trotsky or visit a bordello and make love to Leo Trotsky or Frida Kahlo
In Mexico City you can drink tequila for five pesos a shot or twenty pesos a shot and still not remember what you paid
In Mexico City you can eat a taco or a taco can eat you
In Mexico City you can buy a rosary, buy a cross, buy the Virgin of Guadalupe on a pin head
In Mexico City you can be a taxi driver after you've successfully robbed three Mexicans or one tourist
In Mexico City you can walk all day, never leave the street you started out on
In Mexico City you can have your ear cut off, have it sent to your relatives or buy it back at The Hard Rock Cafe
In Mexico City you can watch the parrots in the lobby of the Gran Hotel and never leave the bar
In Mexico City you can wear a gas mask without being considered hip or criminally insane
In Mexico City you can be a security guard if you own, borrow or steal a gun
In Mexico City you can be a priest if you can get a coyote to bring you chickens
In Mexico City you can be Irish if you have the letter D branded on your forehead
In Mexico City you can speak Spanish and no one will believe you
In Mexico City you can have a pet as long as you eat it and don't make a mess
In Mexico City you can have a toilet and it's no big deal
In Mexico City you can have an Aztec flashback, an Aztec watch, an Aztec
In Mexico City you can buy flowers from women who grow them in their hair
In Mexico City you can pretend to be B. Traven or the lover of Dolores del Rio or B. Traven, the lover of Dolores del Rio
In Mexico City you can surf the Net for one hour and get a free drink for 25 pesos
In Mexico City you can meet Colombians who wear gold chains and get to know them as human beings
In Mexico City you can look at the murals if you surrender your passport or your spouse
In Mexico City you can buy a lottery ticket from a dog called Morales or from his mistress who is the widow of a man called Morales

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Culture Court 2000