Doot Deee Dooo

White Man of Leisure can be is a fragile state of affairs in Puerto Escondido.  You’d have to walk a couple miles in my flip flops to feel what I feel.  White Man of Leisure sure better mind his P’s and Q’s if he knows what’s best for him.  You see, Every Mexican around here is working in the hot sun.  And not like one might work in The States…you know checking their cell phone every five minutes and texting all day long.  No, these people are actually working.  And for not a lot of money.  And I know it.  And they hope I don’t know it.  But I know it.  And lately, it’s all been extra right in front of me.  So when one White Man of Leisure strolls by a 55 year old laborer carrying buckets of sand up the hotel stairs where WMoL is living, and Whitey has to do that everyday in every way, then one White Man better figure out how best to do it.

Zen and the Art of Bicycle Riding

Yesterday I bought a new bicycle.  Brand spanking new.  It was $84 US, mas o menos.  I’d be laughing all the way to the bank if it were Made in China, but the truth is, the bike wasn’t really even Made.  It just became.  Plastic crank arms.  Lego parts.  Tin foil rims.  Pretty comfy little seat though.  15 gears.  The kind of bicycle you wouldn’t even find at Target or Home Depot.  So I got this bike, and all of a sudden I felt different.

For those of you at home who may not know, I am a professional bicycle rider.  Of late, I’ve traded in much of my fitness for a different kind of ability on two wheels.  That’s as vague as I’m going to leave it.  Anyway, I rode around the hectic block three of four times, each time having to stop back into the shop for a tune-up.  When it felt about as right as a piece of shit bicycle could ever feel, I soft pedaled away in search of a fan.

The big fan came in a big box.  I’d call it 2’x2’x6”.  The fan cost almost as much as the bicycle.  I cut a hand hole in the cardboard box.  I was going to be on the highway during the heat of the day, which happens to coincide with the busiest time of day on these chuddered roads.  I knew I had to reach into my bike riding bag of tricks to pull this one off.  The ice cream man appeared.  I bought a watermelon stick for 20 cents.