Battalions Locking Swords

Jan. 31st, 2012 Puerto Escondido, Oax., Mx.
 
        At dawn, even before some unknown soldier at the military battalion above the highway played revelry on his trumpet,  a shopping list was made for the weeks essentials. The first mission was to  try to find a 'papeleria' that sold art supplies, and very primitive, cheap facsimiles were found within fifteen minutes of reaching town on the five peso 'collectivo'. 'Super Che'-Puerto's first true SUPER market  was the second destination of the morning thereby  giving the two cups of coffee, bran cereal and fruit salad of breakfast  plenty of time to ferment and join forces. A battalion as it were, ready for morning excercises. The 'cajeros' or cash machines in 'Super Che' were installed after the official store opening, clearly an afterthought although a profitable one. Having the 'banos' or restrooms beyond and down the  hallway from the  'cajeros' or money machines   might seem like an insignificant detail- unless of course you are a middle-aged man who has foolishly consumed a breakfast of diuretics and  purgatives.
      After  checking my 'mochila'-bag, I headed to the restroom only to discover that the money machines were being emptied of cash and filled with crisp, new bills. Soldiers brandishing guns and very serious, don't- f**k-with-me expressions,  guarded the process  and blocked access to the banos.
    "Cuanto tiempo hasta la libertad del los banos?  ( How long till the liberation of the  restrooms?)  I ask.
    "Una Hora." ( One hour.) he stated emphatically, not appreciating my early morning military joke.
    "Una Hora!!!" , I repeat, jumping up and down   indicating my desperation. . . The soldier didn't smile, he just raised his gun slightly as if it were an eyebrow, indicating this is not up for discussion.
   At this point I  counted the soldiers, and more importantly their armaments. Three soldiers with what looked to be automatic rifles. Uzi's?
  I again gave the soldier a pleading look and grabbed my 'pistol', hoping we could do our machismo male bonding  over our dicks and their requirements. He just ignored me.
 ' Hmm... ' went the  desperate thinking process, ' I could untie my board shorts in prep, run past the first guard, tackle the second and third, drop my drawers and slide into the mens room, lock the door  and ...'  Just then the guard caught my eye and gave me an exceptionally surly look.
' And then they shoot me through the door. This is mission impossible. Madness. I don't want make the  Mexico City lead evening TV Crime and Violence Story'
" American tourist attempts robbery of 'cajero'". And then of course the bloody image, uncensored as Mexican viewers are arguably even more blood-thirsty than American viewers.
 "Never mind."
  The grocery shopping list  immediately got reduced to just bottled water. No treats. No goodies. No essentials.  The needs of  my fermenting battalion loosing to their well-armed battalion.
Mexico finally won a war!
Abrazos
Esteban