Finding Out Méxican Airport Hotels Don't Accept Dollars
Jorge Mascarillo | 29 July 2011
“Look's like America's dropped her load
Like she was ready to explode
I could not see her from up here
Cuz she was lyin' in the road
My head's in the ground
I can’t make a sound
She'll have to handle this one all on her own…” - Live
Road tripping around the United Soviet States of the Americas (USSA), this wanderer was able to take in numerous wonderful, weird and alarming sights. From warm Mexican Zapatista backcountry roads to the decadence of Hollywood, in sense both good and bad. Indeed, it is an exciting time.
Day 1 – México City, Airport Hotel
One great convenience of air travel in México is its security procedure (which is changing, as will be noted). Pass through a metal detector and pick up your belongings. No harassment, no violation, piece of cake.
The first odd item I notice upon arrival, aside from the lone desk attendant who is in tears on the isolated lower level of the airport hotel, is a sign at the main desk stating that due to regulations of the “Financial Mexican System...we are NOT receiving American dollars in cash.”
(please excuse the poor quality)
Not that I was planning to anyhow, but good to know.
Day 7 – Villahermosa, Tabasco
Stumbling along the city river, something seemed out of place in this run down town. It then dawned that most sections of the city were dirty and depressing. I interrogated the taxi drivers who generally are good sources of local information, the eyes and ears of the city. Taking a ride with my first ever female taxi driver (and her cousin), I had completely forgotten how there had been a massive flood a few years back, practically destroying the infrastructure and economy. [As in Haiti] she noted how the influx of humanitarian aid had disappeared. Villahermosa received a pittance, forced to rebuild life on its own with the constant threat of future flooding. A second driver called it the city of two lies, neither a “villa” nor “hermosa” (beautiful).
After almost getting into a fight with real Mayan monkeys while visiting jungle ruins, I learn from fellow travelers (American-Mexicans based out of Juarez-El Paso) that they rig the taillights on their vehicles to completely go out and on occasion drive by flashlight at night to avoid (US-armed) narco banditos. Sure, missionaries have been murdered. But those were the ones who put the pedal to the metal. My young pastor, faced with the same predicament, took a bold stand, letting the banditos know he was a Christian and that if they stole from him (and his wagon of bibles) they were stealing from God. By the grace of God, he was allowed to pass.
All along the journey through southern México, mistreated South American migrants stood in the center of roads begging for a fiat coin or bill to continue their dangerous passage north. Thanks to global economic deconstruction and regional dis-integration arrangements, today’s neo-feudal serfs get a bum deal and a slippery ladder that only leads downward.
Day 10 – Nevada (en route)
Méxican airport security pulled a fast one on us this time. After passing through the metal detector, as we were to board at the gate en route to the good ‘ol USSA, they inspected our baggage once again, made us throw out our once kosher airport-bought beverages, frisked us and made us remove our shoes. The absurdity! There they go again looking for the boogeyman, in México of all places!
Day 11 – Nevada
Driving down the highway, I notice a big red billboard, the likes of which used to be found in the communist Soviet Union or fascist Germany.
“See Something, Say Something”.
I’ll let the reader analyze that one.
Day 13 – California
We visited the grounds of old 19th century wealthy rancher Miguel Leonis Adobe, who didn't trust the banks and hid his money and precious metals in various scattered locations. Then we hit the beach in Malibu only to catch a family of dolphins casually making its way down the shore.
Waiting for a burger at an old local joint, news of the Oslo Operation Gladio “strategy of tension” false flag attack appears. A few patrons shake their heads and curse at that darn ‘ol “Al-Kaid-er”, in sheer ignorance of the historical record, themselves perpetuating the mythological Cold War 2.0, Global War on Terror, “Clash of Civilizations” narrative.
Day 17 – US Airport
And here we go, the last leg out, facing the TSSA. Sometimes you win, sometimes you lose. Wise it is to choose your battles. I decided to put down my "9/11 was an Inside Job" t-shirt this time around (caused me to nearly miss my flight once before) and go for something casual.
At times I feel calm and collected, waiting for my turn to say: “I would like to ‘opt out’” followed by the sirens going off. For some strange reason, my wholly innocent self was becoming visibly nervous. Imagine what will happen when minority report behavior detection kicks fully into place. With TSSA cordiality this time around, I’m able to slide into the metal detector line and pass through without a hitch, evading for the first time ever both the nuclear scanner (which has already blessed with cancer naïve security officers) and virtual rape.
Sure, I returned to a ransacked home (since fortified), but I feel more free in "Wild West" México at the moment than I would in the USSA. Heck, the only time I've stared down the barrel of a gun was in urban America.
The thief found little of value in the home but took an odd old ounce of silver, my broken-in suede suit jacket of seven years and a sole Marlboro cigarette pack, proving the point that cigarettes are just as good as money (i.e. Weimar Germany). I was amused to discover he helped himself to the wrong pack, having found an exploded cigarette on the floor, of which are reserved solely for my good amigos.
Never let ‘em get you down.
Speaking of that cursed devil: TSA Readying New Behavior Detection Plan for Airport Checkpoints