For reasons that should now be clear and obvious, Jessica wanted to see ancient ruins so that we could shout in unison, “THAT TRAIL THAT WE BLAZE” and then chortle like infants and run (read: walk slowly) through crumbling Mesoamerican pyramids.
I thanked whatever god might be out there that I had the opportunity to see this sight and that my thighs were going to look great after that climb. The golden dome of the old basilica glinted in bright sunshine, the green roof of the new basilica reinforced my comparison to Disney’s Space Mountain, and all over, as far as the eye could see, stretched buildings and homes, boulevards and streets. It was utterly beautiful and my breath was swept away. What a charming nation, what a rich culture, and how lucky I was to be here in this moment to experience it.
I woke up gasping for air, wondering if the Grim Reaper had finally come. I didn’t really feel like dying, but I quickly rationalized that I’d led a life worth remembering, and I was fairly certain several people would host a funereal roast for me. So I accepted my mortal end. It was chic enough to die in Mexico City.
Jessica was thrilled as ever to be going to Disneyland. After all these years, I still don’t understand where she finds the energy for her enthusiasm. She can’t be bothered […]