México dreaming…

Weeeeellll I return with my truck to the hotel, that is heavily guarded I should mention, but this time the men are in drab, inconspicuous cream uniforms sin (without) guns – alert, walkie-talkied, but no visible weapons.

I park in front of the side entrance unobserved and begin lugging an oil container to my truck. By the time I return for the second one, 4 or 5 such security people have formed a semicircle around the oil. Hmmmm

I smile and heave another one, more full than the last one, into my hand when Francisco comes scurrying out to tell me there’s been a mistake.

Oh fuckin no. I don’t know what has happened, but somehow they’ve changed their minds. Another guard comes rushing over, this one speaks very good english.

He apologizes also and tells me there has been some kind of mix-up and I can no longer have the oil.

I try my best to convince him to let me have it, regretting I didn’t haul the heaviest one onto the truck first, to no avail. The guard tells me only Senor Diaz can help me and he won’t be in until Monday.

The containers suddenly disappear along with the guards, now that I have succumbed to this news and promise to return on Monday.

As I go to walk away, the guard comes rushing back for the 3^rd container which I point out to him.