I was on this commuter flight out of Mexico when it happened. It was one of those little two engine propeller-jobs, the kind where they make the fat guys sit in back lest the plane be too nose heavy and you crash shortly after takeoff. Sometimes we flew so low I could count the arms on the cactus whizzing by below us. We were going from Hermosillo to Tucson. It usually took a little over one hour – it was …Read the Rest
For reasons described elsewhere in Mr. Ass, I try to avoid using the toilet at the plant in Mexico. However, on my last day there, nature called and I had no choice. Lucky for me the cleaning girls had just been through and the bathroom was in decent shape. Better yet, there was a big meeting going on and the stalls were empty. I had the place to myself, and sat down for a leisurely game of Sudoku. Some time later, …Read the Rest
I have a very important question: why is it that socks, which are two separate pieces of fabric, are purchased in pairs, while pants, obviously one distinct entity, are also purchased in pairs? If you’re going to tell me it’s because pants have two legs, then why don’t I have any pairs of shirts? A cobbler uses two pieces of leather for one pair of shoes, but a textile worker uses only one piece of cloth for a pair of …Read the Rest
Last week, I checked into a Mexican hotel. I had been traveling all day and was tired. When I opened the door to my room, I slipped the key card into the power slot and was greeted with dim illumination. Three of the light bulbs in the room were burned out – the sconce above the desk, the entryway light, and one of the two lights above the bed. No big deal, it was late, so I wrote a note …Read the Rest
I know I’ve complained in the past about toilet-related things. The shape and orientation of the roll, having one’s feet peed on, the size of the seat, etc.. What do you expect, it’s Mr. Ass, right? But in the end, these are life’s minor inconveniences, and we have to learn to accept them. However, I have to say that there’s nothing worse than standing before the porcelain bus, making wee-wee, thinking about bed and why did you have that last beer, when suddenly the lid slams down, sending …Read the Rest
In Durango one night, bat-hating Tim from Indiana and I went out to dinner at a little Italian restaurant on the Avenida. Another friend who had recently escaped Mexico swore by the restaurant, but the food was so bad that Tim and I each had to drink several beers to wash the taste away, and then ordered some tequila just because we were sad and wanted to go home. After this we felt much better, so we left the restaurant and walked down to the big church, hoping to go inside and sober …Read the Rest
It must be a cultural thing. But to be honest, I just don’t get it. Here you have a perfectly good toilet sitting beneath you, and instead of using it, you toss your brown-streaked toilet paper into the garbage can sitting alongside. Disgusting. I mean, even when I was a kid visiting the outhouse at my Aunt Clarinda’s farm in Starbuck, I was taught that you should throw the corncobs in with the shit when you were done. And for a …Read the Rest
The plumbing here sucks. The tap handles fall off, the toilet leaks, the sink is plugged, sometimes the hot water is on the left, other times on the right. The toilet seat is loose. Generally, taking a shower here is more like taking a bath, as the drain is always plugged and you’re sure to be standing knee deep in soapy, scummy water by the end. The water temperature cycles from hot, to cold, to scalding, depending on the whether the guy three floors up …Read the Rest