Night cold in mid-March. True to its reputation, the days near the beginning of spring had crazy, agitated by strong winds and cold nights. And that night. Still, I liked the cold night. Needed for air, lots of air, after spending three hours inside a small room and scented ad nausea by the scent of lilies. But like I was short: just five minutes after leaving the street, the taxi arrived.
Traveling by taxi at night, and Mexico City!, Is a high-risk practice. At least with this idea we have experienced in recent years. However, I think the high-risk adventure beyond the night, I would say that living in a chaotic city, drive almost to the time it is, even more so. But ... as children learned to associate the night with the greatest danger. Remember a neighbor friend of my grandmother who did not let their daughters come home after eight o'clock at night because they were not decent young ladies in the street after hours. Whenever I visited my grandmother repeated the old song, while the mother of my father listened without saying much ... until one day, I guess a little tired of all this repetition, without further replied night can be dangerous for other thing, yes, but decency can be lost eight in the morning or noon . No schedule set for it . In colloquial English translation would be: to take no fixed schedule. And that night while riding in the taxi back to my home after accompanying a friend in the wake of his father, came to my mind this conversation heard in my childhood. Remembered and laughed to myself, while faced with something like stoicism (the need for miracles) to the driver platicón, inquisitive, intrusive. A high-risk adventure was finding enduring comments without showing my desire to silence him or send him to walk, not only because the man wanted to know what he was doing "a lady" at that hour of the night on the street. How I long to reply: I escaped from the coffin, and sought to bury my husband alive to enjoy my good fortune with a peroxide blonde tits operated. What do not you tell? But when just digested your comments and questions, the holy man showed his true side: he believed that his mission in life was to "return to Way of the Lord" ... anyone who had the misfortune to fall into their taxi as a passenger . And I could almost swear, if the passenger was a woman walking on the street after hours. And so, without that I could do something about it, the man engaged in a medieval deeds worthy catechism. It seemed that instead of having approached the doors of known Av funeral of Felix Cuevas, had done on Sullivan Avenue (street owes its fame to the ladies who walk around waiting for a buyer of casual sex .) I grew up in a Catholic household and in fact, although not enough, I have not renounced my religion. But long ago I lost respect for those who want to forcibly sell their religious beliefs and, indeed, when doing so seems to be wielding a whiff of moral superiority undisguised He spoke of the benefits of becoming a Christian, how from the day he left Catholicism "the Lord had come into it, filling it with light and giving it a clarity of vision that did not have before. I listened trying to keep his mouth shut while he, as a fax machine, continued to transmit information. His monologue, ran for renunciation of worldly pleasures and material to dirty money. And while he spoke as if the Lord to dictate the gospel in his ear, I just listened mustering patience not to burst into rants. At that point, the little man he needed to be St. Francis of Assisi. Finally just when enfilábamos to the street where my house is located, the driver turned to look at me and told me Miss all that said with the utmost respect. If I dared to speak of these things is because in their eyes I see your soul is good and there is still time to save ... He said that, then I took (except transportation services executive airport the most expensive taxi my life in this city) to say goodbye with a "the Lord enlighten me and help her find her way back to your light ..."
Amen
*****
"I do not care what the faux pas that makes you fall on my body" Marguerite Yourcenar 
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