Some Photographs From Mexico
A hot tortilla, a heap of seasoned meat, some cilantro, some onion, a squeeze of lime, and cheap beer to wax finish. Devine. But here’s the thing - you just can’t have all that divinity without an equal potential for disaster. The type of disaster that leaves you on the floor in the fetal position wishing you had never even smelled the thing… viva Mexico.
I lift my surfboard off of the carousel and walk towards customs. A young Mexican girl with a sincere face is peering at me from the inside of her glass cubical. She waves me towards her as I get closer. I hand her my passport and documents.
She looks at the photo and then back to me - “Hola Juana’ tan, welcome to Meheeco! Are you for work?” My hands turn to hot washcloths. “No, just surfing.” A nervous smile rips across my face.
The truth is - my entire adult life, encounters with authority have stirred my lunch, even if I have nothing to hide. But this time, the flavor of lie left an aftertaste.
I was carrying a bag of expensive camera gear - on a low budget commercial assignment. I hadn’t the money or the time to worry with the litigation of getting a permit to shoot in Mexico.
But, whatever, every sandal wearing gringo in this place was strapped with a camera. I kept my composure, all the time, sure a litany of follow up questions would come.
Just as the heat crept from my hands, climbing higher and higher to my armpits - KACHUNK! she stamped the passport with the authority of a judge’s hammer. “Enjoy your time!” She smiled broadly and motioned me through.
We left the rest of the story in Mexico.
This last shot taken by Nick Messina of yours truly - Until next time.