And then the city appeared. We were miles and miles from the heart of Mexico City, but the extreme edges were densely packed. It was wonderful to pick out the roads and soccer fields and parks and bigger homes. I barely dared to blink. And then we touched down and I felt the most extraordinary sense of calm. All of the tension that I have been carrying around with me lately melted into my pleather premium seat. I could breathe. I swear my back unclenched. I could have melted. It was divine.
The other people watched me go with a mixture of shock and awe. They were more than willing to wait the rain out, and as I reflect on this day, I don’t know why I was so unwilling. I was determined to get home for some reason. There was probably some food for me there that I was looking forward to gorging myself on. That’s really the most reasonable conclusion. So I stuck my poor little suede boots outside of the protection of the Palacio and nearly gasped as the weight of the water crushed me.
I’ve never been able to eat pea soup without thinking of demonic possession. Do you know anybody who has ever been possessed by an unholy spirit? It happens so often in the movies and television that you’d think we’d all know of at least somebody. I’m in a coffeeshop right now back home, watching the rain fall — like in Mexico City, it won’t stop — and this idea has quite suddenly enraged me. Every week there’s some new show on the Travel Channel about some possessed child.
Reader, I am so excited to tell you about all the wonders I found in Mexico, the delicious foods I had, the tequilas I drank, the gorgeous kittens I met, the kindly strangers who welcomed me into their nation, the cobblestone streets, the crumbling buildings, the hot nights, the pyramids, the ruins, the atmosphere of being somewhere so vibrant and alive. I have very rarely loved a place more, and it feels odd to not be there. Mexico City felt completely like home. In fact…but I’m getting ahead of myself.