Mexico (part 7)
"What if we don't find the pony?" C asked as we strolled along.
"Maybe we ARE the pony," I said, which I still feel is true.
I'd purchased two pairs of shorts at Wal-Mart. The first, which you've seen in drawings done by the professional illustrator, was a pair of swim trunks. My daily shorts were black, as you see above, and featured the shallowest pockets in the history of clothing. They were replaced with no remorse.
A mall anywhere in the world is a mall. Same style, same categories of stores, usually the same vibe. We stopped by the food court just because I wanted to see what kind of food was available. Boy, am I glad I did:
There's a lot going on in that picture: corn, spaghetti, dirty rice, plantains, two kinds of meat, and a roll. Instant classic.
Sadly, we didn't eat at Alabama Mamma, preferring to go somewhere in the restaurant district instead:
This was the sixth day of wearing the same clothes. "Nice shirt," C said.
"Thanks," I said. "New dress?"
Clearly, we'd found ponies: the pyramids and the restaurant district, to name just two. Plus ourselves, which made three. There was still one more to go, though.
Cenotes. It would be an adventure.
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