CORERO EN MEXICO

When ever someone tells me they want to mail a letter or something to me in Mexico, I tell them "We don't have mail in Mexico".  That is an exaggeration, but they might as well not have it.  Even the Mexican utility companies won't use it.  They pay an employee to hand deliver the bills to each household.  They also do not bother with envelopes.  You have to know when the bill is due and search for it.  If you are lucky they will stick it under the door, where it gets wet if it is raining (rain runs under my door during heavy storms).  Or, they stick it in the door, or maybe hide it behind the meter.  If you miss it, in 10 days they could shut off your electricity or water.

UPS is really the only way to get something to me and it is also "iffy".  My first experience was when I had to have a new credit card mailed to me after it was stolen in Cancun.  That took forever and since the tracking said it was in Guadalajara the night before, I ran out for my latte in the morning.  Sure enough there was a note on my door when I got back.  I called Saul.  He told me that they only make one attempt and then return it to the U.S.  I had to go to the UPS office and pick it up.  Fortunately he knew where the office was so the following day, we hailed a cab and headed off.

UPS does not have an office in Puerto Vallarta, but uses a shipping company.  So you really have to know where to go as nothing outside indicates that UPS is inside.  It took about for ever  to find it, but I did get it. That was my only experience with UPS until recently.  One Monday morning I noticed that I had a call form a strange 800 number.  I almost deleted it.  For four years I have had collection companies calling me looking for a Maria, or an Edward.  Apparently they had this number four years ago in California.  I have Magic Jack for calls outside of Mexico and got a number local for Laguna Beach so people can call me at no charge.  Each time I speak to the collection company they promise to delete the number from their list, but the calls continue.

Anyway, this happened to be a call from the fraud department at my bank.  They notice "unusual activity" on my care and fortunately called me.  Someone in Seattle had made ten charges on my card all on Sunday night.  My bank knows I live in Mexico.  Of course they said they would credit me for all the charges, but they had to cancel my card and send me a new one.  They would not mail it to Mexico.   They said that someone in Seattle had hacked into my account.  I know no one is Seattle, never use the card for anything but ATM withdraws.  I did use it while I was in the U.S. but that was five months ago.  They said they
 would only mail it to my U.S. address of record. They said it would take a week to ten days.  I had my friend Donna check it after 10 days and the card was there.  She mailed it UPS and got a tracking number.  It cost $75.00 U.S.  for a small envelope that weighed less than half an ounce.  You still wonder why I don't have anything mailed to me?

The tracking showed it arriving eleven days later.  Then it said, that it would be delivered a day early.  With my last experience, I decided not to leave the house all day.  No latte, no gym, no shopping, I just sat and waited.  Of course it did not arrive until 6:30 at night.  The next morning I tried it at my ATM and Thank God it worked.  Without a credit or debit card I am without access to money.   No one takes a check here.
And I do not want to use a credit card for purchases so I was desperate to get the card.  You would think that for $75.00 a small envelope could get here a little faster.

 Why eleven days?  I think once it gets to Mexico, it travels by burro.

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MUERTE EN EL SECADOR (DEATH IN A DRYER)

One point I failed to make in my treatise on Summer in Vallarta, is laundry.  When you shower three times a day, you create a lot of laundry.  Besides three pair of underwear, the towels never gets dry so they get to smelling funny after a day.  So instead of doing laundry once a week, I have to do it two or three times a week.

I do not remember on this particular day how long it had been since I had last used the dryer, but it could not have been more than a few days.  Once I turned the dryer on, I knew there was a problem.  There was a loud clatter followed by a horrible smell. I do not remember if I heard anything scream (unless it was me)   I open the door and found nothing inside but wet laundry and the smell was not inside the dryer.  The smell was behind the dryer.  A cursory glace revealed nothing, but I did not want to look to hard.  There was nothing to do but finish drying the laundry, and the clatter continued.  Once done, I sniffed the laundry and did not detect any strong odor (I had added a couple more sheets of Bounce),  The underwear I put away, but decided to rewash the towels and wash cloths at a later date.

Why I did not call Saul that day, I do not know.  Then I forgot about it for a few days when again I had to do at least one load.  The smell wasn't too bad, so I threw the laundry in and turned it on.  Maggots flew out the back end with a stench that almost made me vomit.  Now, I called Saul.  He said he would be here in a few hours, but it was almost nightfall before he arrived.  Saul is very good at what he does, extremely honest and CHEAP!  But he is not fast or punctual (you can't have everything, certainly not in Mexico).  I had several small jobs besides the dryer.  He wanted to know what all of them were first.

He started with fixing two of the ceiling fans (one vibrated, one spun too slowly) repaired a lamp cord and hung a platter on the kitchen wall.  By then it was too dark to work upstairs on the deck and said he would return the following morning.  Two days later I called and he said he forgot.  This time he did arrive fairly soon along with a new assistant (he goes through a lot of them).  They pulled it away from the wall and started to take the back off.  He took apart the vent inside and sure enough there was the remains of a dead rat (along with rat turds and maggots).  I had to leave as the smell was overpowering.  Saul said he might be sick.

The assistant carefully cleaned everything inside and Saul swept everything up and took the trash out and rat out (which means dumping on the corner).  Saul then mopped the whole area.  He is very good about cleaning up after himself, but the stink remained.  I decided to pour disinfectant over the area and then hose it all down.  Later I threw the mop away.   I could still smell it.  Some odors once inhaled seem to stay in the nostrils.  Maybe little particles cling to the hairs in your nose and at my age I have a lot of hairs up there.  (Why is it that at a certain age hair stops growing on your head and instead comes out your ears and nose?)

It seemed better so I started a new laundry.  Saul recommended that I buy some rat poison.  I have no idea how he (or she) got up three stories above the ground.  It is the first rat I have seen in the four years I have been here.  I did see a tiny mouse once slip under my front door, but I stomped my foot and he ran back out to the street.   She must have crawled in the vent and started a nest in there.  I do not know if there were any baby rats inside or not.  They would have been chewed up first.   I went to Guadalajara Pharmacy, but they do not carry the package of poison pellets.  All they have are little pads of glue. I guess the idea is that the rat will cross it and get stuck.  Since I cannot read the Spanish I am not sure what you do with it afterward.  You either have a live screaming rat or a dead one.  If it happens, I will just call Saul.  I know this sounds bizarre, (my life is bizarre) but all my stories are true.  So far no trapped rats.

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VALLARTA EN VERANO

This will be my fourth summer in Puerto Vallarta.  It had been a very mild winter.  Usually I have to pull out my sweat shirts and pants.  The year before it was so cold I had to turn the oven on (with the door open).  Of course no home has any kind of heat.  This year not only did I not need my sweat suits, but never once wore a long sleeve shirt at night.  That should have made me wonder about the summer that would follow.   Everyone I know was shocked at how hot it got beginning the 1st of May.

Most of the "snow birds" leave before summer for their winter homes.  This year many of them did not make it out in time.  Friends of mine who also live half the year in Marbella Spain (an also have an apartment in London) are famous for their garden dinner parties.  During the first week of May they invited 20 people to their home for dinner in their new garden.  Last year they purchased the lot behind their mansion and installed one of the most beautiful gardens I have ever seen.  Full grown trees were brought in as well as flowering vines that climbed over eight foot walls.  That night we had our first sprinkle which just made the humidity increase.  It was so hot we were all dripping wet before the first course was served (four in help).  I felt sorriest for my hosts, but the poor ladies present suffered the most with make up running off their faces into the plates.  It was the hottest night of the year so far.  But it got hotter

It isn't really the heat that is the problem, it is the humidity.   What little rain we have had has only made it worse.  We are all praying for an early rainy season (which normally does not start until July).  Unless you have lived in a tropical climate you do not know what it is like.  You step out of a cold shower, towel off and within seconds your body is covered in sweat (not pleasant).  A friend of mine suggest I put my underwear in the freezer like Marilyn did in "Seven Year Itch".  He was probably joking, but I tried it.  I must say that it was temporarily refreshing, but I must do some planning next time.   I walked out of the bathroom and across my living room stark naked in full view of my open windows to retrieve my underwear.  Again, it is not the temperature, but the humidity which is so oppressive.   It hangs over you like a heavy shroud that saps all your energy and ambition (not that I have a lot to start with)

It was almost the end of May when we got our first good rain.  I had called a friend of mine to meet me at Bar Frida for a margarita, just to get out of my stuffy apartment (not a breeze anywhere).  Of course the conversation was mainly about how awful May had been.  As soon as I left it started to mist a little.  I peeled off my sticky clothes and laid down on my bed to finish my latest book (with the fan in my face).  I saw some lightning and heard a little thunder, but did not realize until I got up to get another beer that there was a cool breeze coming through my open window.  Immediately I went up to my deck to sit under my cabana and watch the rain pour down all around me.  Of course my street was ankle deep in water by then.  Most of it drains toward the river which is only two blocks away from me.  No rain had been predicted but why would one think that a Mexican weatherman should be more correct than ones in The States.

We had a few days respite from the heat and humidity then, the sun came back so did the humidity.  I do not know why rain would reduce the humidity.  Maybe the rain removes all the moisture from the atmosphere.  I am not a scientist (Obviously!).  Then the first week of June we had some rain (no rivers in the street) but enough to cool things down for a while.  Each night I watch dark clouds roll in a few hours before sunset that promise more rain, but they just roll right on by leaving a clear star lit sky.  Finally we got a good rain.  I was with friends of mine at Apache's when it started.  I watched the stairs at the end of the street turn into a waterfall and the street became a raging river.  I wanted to go home and get my camera but my friends who drove me there were not willing to leave.  The cobblestone streets in sandals are difficult in dry weather.  Attempting them under six inches of fast running water was not an option.  So I just ordered another drink.  It ended in about an hour and they drove me home.

The following day was warm, but tolerable.  That night we had a little rain, at least enough to cool it off so I did not need to turn on the air.  And so Summer in Vallarta will continue for another four months.  We suffer through the heat and humidity and pray for more rain.  The rain not only relieves us from the heat but does much more.  The mountains around me are already a verdant green.  The black dust which covers everything in the winter is subdued.  Most of all I love to sit and watch the rain pour around me little cabana while I have my drink and cigarettes and watch the incredible show of lightning and thunder.  Sometimes the lightning is so frequent it looks like the town is being hit by strop lights.  There is a down side to the rain.  It also brings on another batch of mosquitoes.  I have tried electric plug in, smoke bombs, creams, sprays, but they tiny bugs just love to suck my blood.  It also brought out a hoard of termites.  They circle the lights all night, then in the morning you find little wings littering the floor (which means their bodies have crawled off and are gnawing on my wood),

Why, you might ask do I endue such discomfort.  Well, I can tell you in just three little words (no make that four)  I HATE COLD MORE !

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MORE ABOUT COCKS

Don't get too excited here, we are still talking about chickens.  A few months ago, my friend Elvis asked me to check again with Red Farms in Alabama about shipping a trio (one cock, two hens) to Mexico.  Not really liking the idea of "fighting cocks" I made the call.  The nice lady informed that they did ship to Mexico and gave me a price for the shipping, but told me that it would be up to me (somebody else, really) to clear them at customs.  They insist that the the cocks are to be sent for breeding purposes only (yeah, yeah).   I told Elvis that he should check with customs to see if there are restrictions and if there was any duty to pay.

It was less than a month later when he told me that he had in fact bought one cock and four hens.  It is still a little unclear to me with the language difficulties, but I think that he found someone in Texas to smuggle  them across the border (which would make them wet back chickens, I guess) and then shipped them to Vallarta.
He had a friend who already had a cock farm who went in with him to purchase the chickens.  They cost $1,500.00 if you can believe.  Elvis set up four cages for his new chickens, one for each hen.  The rooster visits each hen every other day (poor thing does not have his own cage).

Elvis was to feed the chickens in the mornings (his friend who has a government job would feed them in the evening) and pick up any eggs and take them to an incubator.  I am not sure where this is, but I guess it is near.  Within a few weeks the little chicks started to hatch.  Then they needed another coop for the chicks.  He constantly complains about the cost of feed.  I do not know why.  Where did the expression "chicken feed" come from;  I thought it would be cheap.  He told me that only three out of ten chicks would be males (thus potential fighting cocks).  So far out out 50  chicks he has maybe 15 to 20 males.  (no I do not know how they tell).  His friend (partner in the endeavor) wants to cut the heads off all the hens.  Elvis excepts this as a reality but also wants nothing to do with it, nor would he be able to watch.  He told me that the chickens know him and as soon as they hear his motorcycle, they all get excited (Once they find out what he intends to do with him, they won't be so happy to see him),

He says he isn't really going to use them cocks for fighting himself, but the idea is to sell them.  Unfortunately the cocks have to be a year and a half to two years old before they are ready.  He still thinks he will make a lot of money doing this.  I told him that although I wanted to see the chickens, I would never want to be near a real cock fight.  He then told me that they had planned on having a cock fight on my roof top deck.  After I screamed, he said "Just kidding".  So when he invited me to visit to see his chicks, I jumped at the chance (I still abhor the, but was curious).

Wouldn't you know it rained that day.  The rain started a few weeks earlier, but only at night.  When I left and saw the cloud bank, I wasn't really concerned.  Before I could get on the first bus, the rain started.  I had to change buses at Liverpool.  Although I have a good umbrella at home, I did not have it with me, so I decided to try to buy a cheap one.  Liverpool is not a town but a department store (the largest and most expensive in Vallarta).  The Galleria does not open until 11:00 (They have weird hours here, like every thing else in Mexico).  By the time I got back to the bus stop, I was soaked.  Fortunately by the time I arrived in Bucerias, the rain was down to a drizzle.  I was amazed at the huge yard with dozens of cocks and hens.  His friend does use his for fighting.  They are huge cages they dwarf the four small ones that Elvis has.  He did say that as the chicks grown, he will have to build some big cages along the opposite wall.

His cock is so tame he can cuddle it.  He said he was a lover, not a fighter and would never be put out to fight.  I was also surprised to learn that they train the cocks to fight by putting on blunt rubber knobs on their spurs (sort of like boxing gloves).  I told him that I did not want to watch them training either.  Raising fighting cocks is not his only enterprise.  Elvis has had two jobs (one day, one night) almost the entire three years I have known him.  Currently he is working on opening his own gym.  He build the building next to the house he built a few years ago.  They gym is already huge, but in time he plans to add a second floor for aerobics
and other related exercises

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THE REMODEL OF PARROQUIA SANTA CRUZ

Maybe you have missed me.  Sorry, I told you that I am basically lazy and I am running out of new topics.  Which is why I have decided to revisit some of my previous topic.   It was just one year ago that I  wrote about the church across from me and referred to it as "the ugliest church in Mexico".  Maybe somebody hear me, for several months ago, the remodel began.

I was told that they have a new priest from Mexico City.  Maybe he is the one who got it started.  I am also told the the priest (and this church)  are the most conservative in Puerto Vallarta.  This may account for all the pregnant teen age girls in town (NO condoms allowed !)  Anyway, it started with the repainting of the exterior  of the church.  I could not believe how artistic it looked or how much a paint job improved the looks.  Who ever designed it knew what they were doing for the added borders of white paint emphasize the architectural details.  I now love the tower which rises above the wall on my roof top terrace (please note my new palm tree)..  I still cannot believe the way the painters raised and lower themselves five stories into the air with just a hand cranked pulley.  Before the painting was finished, they added a stained glass window the the front.  The first morning when I went out to my balcony for coffee and noticed a huge hole in the wall, I thought the cannon must have gone off and blew a hole through the front wall.  Then I noticed a man on scaffolding chiseling away on the hole from the inside. Bits of concrete and lots of dust fell to the side walk below and any unsuspecting passers by.   Once the hole was big enough a stone circle was added.  I watched as they put this is place.  It is put up with what looked like willhold glue.  The bottom piece was temporarily supported by a wood stick, then all the other pieces were added on top and the wood stick was taken away.  No bolts, no screws, nothing  but glue.  I will never walk under it.  The sign when you enter Mexico says "Bienvienitos"  which I translate to "Enter at your own risk".

After the painting was done they started ripping out the inside (why after it was freshly painted ? Well because it is Mexico.  There were several niches in the wall where they displayed their plaster saints.  They ripped through the wall and created tiny little rooms off the main hall.   Who know why?  In order to do this they apparently needed lots of concrete.  For months concrete was mixed in the street and hauled inside.  Yes, they just dump the cement, and sand in the street, add water and mix right on top of the cobble stones.  Once they are satisfied with mixture, it is scooped up into a wheel barrel and taken inside.  Why not just mix it in the wheel barrel (thus sparing the mess in the street)?  Well, because it is ......!  At first I could not tell why they added two more columns in the front.  I thought maybe they added them for the extra weight of the stone edged window.  But when they were finished, banners were hung between the posts.  A much better idea than posting them on the sides of the building.

Semana Santa just ended a week ago and already, they are beginning the celebration for Santa Cruz.  During Semana Santa, thousands of Mexican Nationals descend upon Vallarta in pick up trucks (carrying table chairs and coolers in the truck bed along with a dozen Mexicans.  Some will just sleep in the trucks.  Some will rent a cheap room and put a dozen people in it.  Mostly they go to beach and then get very drunk.  I took a photo of the beach one day and it was not even the week end.  Mexicans with their colorful umbrellas as far as the eye could see.  I really do not mind all the extra traffic, or people at the beach, it is the loud music blasting out of the cars all day and night that drives me crazy.

The festival of Santa Cruz goes on for a week before and several days after May 3rd.  At first I thought that it must be the birth or death of a saint.  No, it is not a saint at all, but means "Holy Cross"  How they came up with the date of May 3rd, no one seems to know.  The remodel must have been planned to conform with this date. Once again my street is closed to traffic (the good news) but along with the many booths and kiddy rides comes the largest speakers I have ever seen  They blast away from dusk to about midnight.  There is no way I can sleep before.   I do love watching the little kids on all the rides below.  At first a large carousel was placed below my bedroom.  Then it was moved aside and one of those rides with little cars that go round and round.  What I did not know is that it comes with an ear piercing alarm.  It sounds like a car alarm on steroids.  The little kids ridding probably have no idea what it is, but the young kid who runs the ride seems to love it.  Of course bells ring all week, but it is the cannons that you would not believe.  I have gotten used to the bells, but every time the cannon goes off I jump (sometimes spilling my drink).

I invited my friend Filipe and his kid and wife (well really just the mother of his child) for a few drinks before letting little Ian loose on the rides.  Last year he was just eighteen months old  and most of the rides scared him.  One scares me.  People are strapped into a circle of seats and then turned upside down.  There are no safety checks here so you won't catch me hanging upside down.  To my surprise, he still would not get on any of the rides.  All he wanted to do was to play a little marble gambling game.  He had a good time anyway.

There are sermons all week long and every night the loud speakers blast, bells ring, cannons go off,  and the rides run until  midnight.  On the second block are all the stands selling food and trinkets.  But the culmination comes on May 3rd (Santa Cruz Day)  That is when the bonfire like fireworks stand is installed in the cross street.  At the start of any event at the church a bunch of Indians in colorful feathers will dance.  Of course this means that a two block square is completely blocked to traffic.  No one seems to mind.  Everyone crowds around this tower of fire as fireworks scatter burning bits into the crowd.  Last year it set off a fire on the dry weeds growing on the restaurant across the street.  This year I watched them assemble the structure in the street.  It turned out to be at least one story higher than before and was much more spectacular.  For the finale, the top blew off into the sky and fireworks displays fell back onto us for several minutes.  It did not start any fires, for the restaurant across the street had carefully removed all the dead leaves from their roof.  I had my friends, Richard and Hector over again and this time served dinner.  After dinner we walked the three blocks of rides, and booths.  Unfortunately it did not end that night.  No !  the racket (minus the cannon blasts) is still going on.  Last year it was one week, now they are talking about keeping it open until Mother's Day.  It is impossible to sleep until after midnight.

It may sound like a living Hell to you, but you should see the people.  When I go down stairs and mingle among them, I am impressed by the happy, laughing faces (knowing that most of them live with several generations in a few squalid rooms)  They have barely enough to buy tortillas and beans to feed their families, but here they are enjoying (and drinking) during carnival.  Whole families are here to watch their kids take turns on the stupid little carnival rides set up below me.  They will spend their precious few pesos to let their kids have fun.  The children are so beautiful here with their large dark eyes (especially when they are looking at the carnival)

.  You just have to love these happy crazy people.


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UN VIAJE A LOS ANGELES

The trip began in Laguna Beach (No! actually it started in Mexico)  But I had been staying in my old home town of Laguna at my lawyers guest house.  Laguna is one of the most beautiful places in the world and I was lucky to have lived there for 35 years. (Now I can only afford to visit)   I drove to San Juan Capistrano to pick up Kathie (my favorite travel partner) and we headed off to the train depot in old San Juan

The depot is across from the Mission San Juan and the architecture is similar.  I could not find a plate that gave the date of the original structure.  In the front patio is a very nice restaurant and in the rear is another more upscale restaurant where you dine in some of the old dinning cars.  It is a short pleasant ride on Amtrax into Grand Central Station that takes a little over an hour.

Grand Central is now an historical monument built in 1939 (which makes it younger than I am, but unlike me, it has had several face lifts)  The exterior is California Spanish, but the interior is more art deco.  The restoration has preserved all the original features included the huge leather arm chairs in the spacious lobby.  Inside is the old Traxx restaurant and now at the opposite side is the Traxx bar.  On both sides of the lobby are beautiful patios for drinking, eating or just resting between trains.

The entire area is in the process of a complete renovation.  But just one block away is the famous Phillipe's which has been in business since 1908.  They serve the best french dip sandwiches in the world.  The floor is wood covered in saw dust with long high tables and bar stools.  You will find everyone from the very rich to the very poor sharing these tables every day.  I had the pork, with a side of cold slaw, Kathie had a lamb sandwich.  Sooo Good!  We walked through Chinatown, but not much of interest and unlike the area around the civic center, it still looks like a slum.  Lot of graffiti and litter.  Even the old dragon gate at the entrance looked old and tired.

From there we went back toward the station to Olivera Street which is directly in front of the station.  This dates back to the 1700's and the beginnings of the tiny pueblo of La Reina de Los Angeles.  Many of the original homes and building are there to the delight of tourists.  The street is more like an alley and is packed with stalls selling everything Mexican you can think of  Facing it is a large open plaza where you will find music and people dancing almost every day.  I felt like I was back in Mexico.

From the phallic looking City Hall there are now three blocks of parks and fountains climbing up to the Music Center.    Tall glass towers line all the streets on either side.  At the top of the hill is devoted to arts and music.  The old Dorothy Chandler Pavilion, along with the Ahmanson Theater and the Mark Taper Forum.  The newest addition is Disney Hall by the world famous architect Frank Gehrig.  When he finished it many of the panels were very shiny stainless steel, but too many of the offices around it complained about the glare.  So the entire building was sanded down to give the steel a duller look.    Next door Eli Broad is building his own art museum across from MOMA (contemporary art).  All around these building are beautiful parks, fountains with sky ways linking some of the buildings high above the traffic below.  We missed the old Bradbury building which is also an historical monument.  It is most famous for all the wrought iron work.

We then discovered the Metro system.  We hopped on and it took us under Grand Central where you take an escalator up one floor to the trains.  I was amazed at how beautiful and efficient it was.
We were told it went all the way into The Valley.  There was no graffiti or even a gum wrapper anywhere.  What they did with all the homeless winos and crazy people who used to inhabit the area, I have no idea.  The old downtown area is now truly beautiful and well worth the trip. We hopped back on the train and after dropping Kathie off, I drove back to beautiful Laguna Beach.

Now, I am just very happy to be back in Mexico.

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LOCKS ON LOOS

During my last cocktail party someone came up to me and said there was a problem with the lock on my bathroom door.  He said that someone had been locked in there.  It was late in the party and I was pretty well looped, so I remember glancing at the bathroom and seeing the door open.  I could not understand the problem and at the moment I did not care.

The following morning (after my hangover eased) I remember the incident and took a look at the lock.  There  is the usual little twist lock on the inside with just a small hole on the outside of the door knob.  Since I live alone, I rarely even close the door.   You can lock it from the inside, but when I twisted the door knob, the lock released.  Briefly I thought about getting one of those little keys you use in emergencies when someone falls or faints inside with the door locked.  But where would you get such a tool in Mexico and I quickly forgot about the whole incident.

Last week I had invited one of the guys I play bridge with over to see my apartment. He had heard about what I had done with it and wanted to see it.    I love showing off my apartment, for everyone comments on how beautiful it is.  We had some pizza from my local coffee lady and a few drinks (quite a few actually).  At some point he asked to use the bathroom.  Sometime after he left and just before I was going to bed, I decided to use the bathroom myself.  It was by now after eleven at night.   In spite of my advanced age, I have a remarkable bladder so I had not even noticed that the door was closed.  It was locked !  There was no way to get in.  Immediately I thought of that little key I needed to open the door.  Well, I did not have one but maybe an Allen wrench would work.  I had purchased a set when I had to put my glass topped desk together.  But that was years ago and of course I could not find them anywhere.

I tried a small screw driver, then a kitchen skewer, but the hole in the door knob was so small that nothing would fit into it.  You see people crashing through doors all the time on T.V, so I tried that.  Apparently the door was stronger than my shoulder.  Besides what if the whole door splintered?  Where would I get one to match?  I was sure that Saul could open it, but getting him here before noon tomorrow would be a challenge.  I could pee over the wall on my deck, but what about in the morning when I needed to do more than pee?   In the remodel of the church across the street they added some  public bathrooms with an entrance fee of five pesos.  I do not like living across the street from a public bathroom (although it is quite attractive for Mexico).  At the moment it seemed like a God sent.  But at night it was closed by a sort of aluminum garage door and I was not sure when it would open.

It was by now almost midnight, but I knew my friend Richard did not go to bed until late, so I called him.  I think he was still up although he did seem a little irritated when I asked if I could come over in the morning and use his bathroom.  Because he stays up late, he does not get up early.  Well, I thought I could just lie in bed longer and hope I could make up the hill to his house in the morning.  None of the above really seemed like a viable solution, so I went back to the lock. The hole was really small.  I took a ball point pen apart and inserted it into the hole and pushed

and "voila" the lock popped open. What a relief and I am sure my neighbors would be happy to know that I did not have to pee off my roof.

Next time I see Saul, I will have him take a look at it.  If I was ever actually locked in there, it would be days before anyone found me.  If you wonder how I come up with all these situations every month, let me tell you that they are all based on fact and true (well, maybe a little embellished for amusement purposes).


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