Sketch

The temperature was unbelievably warm. Coming from a city which had temperatures in the minus teens, it was a welcome surge.

Mexico city.

I had just cleared customs, and found myself in the airport of the largest city in the world. The expanse of the place from the landing airplane window was shocking. On the ground, the airport itself was less awe-inspiring, although I did hear the rumble of the sky train above me which connects the airports two vast terminals. Upon going through the doors in terminal one of Mexico City's International Airport, I was approached very swiftly by a young, somewhat groomed man.

-Sir, where are you going sir, he asked.

-Ah, well I need to get to terminal two, I said.

He appeared helpful and brought me to a staircase which lead to the highest of the terminal one floors. He spoke to me in good English but pantomimed the direction I was to head. Up one more flight of stairs, right and right again. I followed his instructions, but noticed before my last right a sign directing me straight ahead, to the sky train which takes people directly to terminal two. I stood confused but was quickly alerted by a curt "SIR!" which brought my attention back to the man who had approached me before. Speed-waling down a hallway he beckoned me to follow, like a fisherman diving his boat in the opposite direction from which his line runs in the water.
At this point I knew something was up.

So he walked in front of me, but always kept his eyes on the gullible traveler which I appeared to be. Obvious to him, I was the follower until I reached one more intersection, at which I turned the opposite direction that he was going, just to see what he would do.

-Sir, he screamed and then whistled. This way!

I was wondering where the fuck this guide wanted to take me. I saw not only was I far way from the train which I needed to catch, but that I was beside the autobus which could also take me to terminal two. Surely this man took me for an idiot. But I followed him, to see what was going down. The man was good, I'll give him that.

-Senor, he asked, where are you from?

-Canada.

-Where are you headed? He asked. Monteray?

-Morelia.

-Si! Morelia.

I was lead down a small staircase, two more flights of stairs. At the bottom was a small child selling candy. She was the first thing I saw. Looking up, I noticed that suddenly I was on the backstreets of Mexico City. Bright, intoxicating Mexico City. And, half a block away, my guide lead me to an SUV which had a man leaning against the hood, in a white wifebeater. Beside the SUV was a group of three men leaning on the hood of their souped up Honda civic.

-To Terminal two, my guide said pointing at the SUV and the man.

I said nothing. All I could do was look to the left and the right, and see that there were people looking very strangely at me. The streets of Mexico are alive and pulsing, I sensed what was going down. At best, I'd have been taken on a tour and eventually reach terminal two, which would earn my SUV driver a good three hundred and fifty pesos (about forty dollars Canadian) which he would share with the man who had brought me here. At the worst, I would have been driven to a secluded area near the airport, a group of men would enter the SUV at once and mug me, taking everything. I would be then be dumped somewhere either alive or dead, you never know in this city. Both outcomes did not suit me. I knew this and they didn't think I did.

-This will take me to terminal two, I asked.

-Yes Yes! To terminal two.

-I don't-

At this point I was cut off. The three men on the Honda civic started shouting at me and said in
unison;

-Terminal two! Go! Get in!

I looked at the gentleman who lead me thus far in less than five minutes. His name tag, surreptitiously placed, appeared worse designed than amateur. For almost thirty seconds; the man, the driver and the three hood-leaners badgered me to take the ride. I smiled and looked upwards to the sky. A large airplane was taking off, and I watched it for a moment. Beautiful. Then I looked at the aeroplane backwash windscreen which stretched several meters into the sky, much higher than the telephone pole beside it. I turned to my guide.

-Look, I'm going to take the sky train, I said.

-No no no, he said shaking his head, it is being constructed. Only works from six to three.

These guys knew they were getting nothing, and the last sinews of their lies were being severed
by the gullible blond foreigner.

-Yeah, no it's not. I'm going back inside.

With vexation my guide replied,

-Fine! go back inside!

I turned around and headed back down the block, to the staircase from which I appeared. The child was still sitting on the steps. With tired bloodshot eyes she stared at me and my eyes met hers for a few seconds. She smiled and stuck her tongue out at me.

I just smiled back...