Drug-Free Dangers

With the recent increase in drug cartel-related violence throughout Mexico, a lot of our friends and family members have expressed concern for Miranda’s and my safety – particularly friends/family to whom we still owe money. I assure you that there is nothing to worry about. Puebla is pretty much out of the big drug loop, which is why there are so few really good parties around here. This city is perfectly content to leave the carjacking, machine-gunning and beheading to the narcotics ninjas in such cities as Juarez, Cuernavaca and Acapulco.

To help quell everyone’s concerns that Miranda and I might meet our maker at the hands of callous Mexican drug lords, I’ve decided to make a list of all the other ways that we are much more likely to die down here.

Based on rigorous research that I’ve conducted over the past two months, there is only a 0.8% chance that we will become victims of the Mexican drug war. Now, compare that miniscule number to the chances of us biting the dust via the following:

1) Grocery cart collision – 75% chance of death. Each day I step into Wal-Mart (I know, but it’s the only grocery store close to home), I take my life into my own hands. Mexicans, you see, have sincere problems with personal space and peripheral vision, but none with high speeds. Even if I’m in Wal-Mart with just one other shopper, that shopper will find a way to ram their cart into mine or my hind quarters. And when the store is crowded – which is almost always – I have about as much chance of not being struck by fast moving metal as I do of finding decent deli meat down here. The good news is that in Mexico there is specialty grocery shopping insurance I can purchase that will cover Miranda, my daughter and Dingo in the event that something tragic happens to me in the produce section.


2) Self-inflicted ear impalement – 68% chance of death. You have two choices when it comes to music here in Puebla: 1) Indescribably horrible Mexican music that shoots from speakers almost everywhere you go; or 2) A sharp stick that you can jam into your own ear to save yourself from choice #1. Miranda and I have gone with option 1 thus far, mainly because we want to stay alive long enough to visit the Mexican Riviera and Cabo while we’re down here. There have been some close calls, though – I have taken a sharp stick and raised it to my head a few times, only to be talked down by my darling wife who really loves beaches. It would be one thing if such loud, grating, harmony-less music were played in just bad bars and clubs; then we could avoid it. But it’s blasted in most restaurants, shopping centers, streets, neighbor’s homes, et. al. And it’s played especially loud in grocery stores, I guess to mask the sound of collision victims’ screams of pain.


3) Hit and run, and hit again – 57% chance of death. I’ve already commented on the dangers of driving here in Puebla. But at least when you are in a car, you have a layer of steel and some airbags to protect you. As a pedestrian in Puebla, all you have to protect you from the vehicular madness is good sense and God – thus, I’m fucked. The only reason I’ve been able to avoid being struck while crossing the street is that I wear earmuffs everywhere I go (to drown out the music), which causes cars to stop and stare instead of accelerate. Miranda has been lucky, too, as Mexican drivers aren’t used to seeing a woman in her 30s with an ass smaller than a mattress, and thus often brake to get a better look.


4) Heart a-taco – 52% chance of death. Unless you eat at one of Puebla’s fantastic Argentine steak restaurants, the beef in these parts is graded not “Prime” nor “A”, but rather “B”, “C-” and “Donkey”. Sure, you can avoid serious health issues by abstaining from beef while living here, but when you are freakishly starving and/or highly inebriated – or if you are Miranda – it’s very difficult to resist a beef taco from a street vendor. If you are unfortunate enough to get a tainted taco, the onset of toxicity is swift and excruciating; symptoms include everything you don’t want to read about if you are eating now. Best thing to do if you ingest one is to quickly put yourself out of your misery by walking across a busy street or going to the grocery store.


5) Tiger or lion mauling – 44% chance of death. There is a safari park called Africam just outside the city where you can drive your car through fields of giraffes, ostriches, rhinoceroses, gazelles, tigers and lions, among other animals. Miranda and I went last weekend (because we were bored, and because we heard that no music was played there), and we couldn’t believe how lax the park was about rolling up windows and staying in your vehicle at all times. There was a small sign here and there to that effect, but nothing like what you’d expect considering the fact that lions and tigers are blood-thirsty carnivores and Mexicans smell a lot like meat. Parents had kids hanging out of windows and standing up through sun-roofs. I was seriously concerned -- what if the blood of a mauled child got on our car and drew a tiger's attention to us?


6) Dingo mauling – 40% chance of death for Miranda; 0% chance of death for Greg. By moving into a fourth-floor apartment down here, we took away the backyard and climbing trees that our cat Dingo had become so accustomed to in Austin. We tried to accommodate his inner-savage by buying him a scratching post and some animal toys, but he just laughed at us, then proceeded to tear apart our two rented sofas over the next several weeks. Not content with shredding only vinyl, Dingo has started attacking Miranda’s legs whenever she walks across a room. It was kind of cute at first, but he has since started hitting bone, which is not cool because he could hurt his teeth. Miranda has become a nervous wreck, unsure if or when she’ll be attacked every time she gets out of bed or up from a chair. Why Dingo only tries to maul his mama and not me is a mystery, though it likely has to do with the fact that Miranda used to do the same thing to her mother and now karma is kicking in.


7) Death by landlord – 37% chance of death. When our landlord sees what Dingo has done to her two sofas, Miranda and I will likely be killed or, worse, placed in a room and forced to listen to the Wal-Mart soundtrack. Miranda thinks that our fate will be worse than that – she fears we might be forced to buy and take back to Austin the two destroyed pieces of poor quality furniture, which go with nothing in our house. But all hope is not lost. There is a good chance we will get off Scott free after we tell the landlord that one of the lions escaped from Africam, followed Miranda and her bag of beef tacos home, then went berserk over the awful music blaring in the street and proceeded to slash the couches, which the lion mistook for wildebeests.


8) Alcohol poisoning – 35% chance of death. Don’t judge. We need something to help us cope with the lethal dangers that lurk around every corner and supermarket. We tried yoga, but getting to the yoga studio requires us to cross two streets. We’re not ashamed to say that alcohol plays an essential role in our lives here in Puebla. We realize what we are doing to our livers, but we can live with that, at least until we can’t.


9) Starvation – 31% chance of death. All the money that Miranda and I spend on wine and vodka leaves us with little funds for food. If you truly are concerned for our safety and well-being, you should send us care packages containing healthy, non-perishable items such as cans of Amy’s organic soups and plane tickets back to Austin. DO NOT send money! We have no willpower; any cash we receive will likely just go towards opening our own liquor store, thus accelerating our untimely demise.


10) Old age – 29% chance of death. Don’t worry, we still plan on returning to the U.S. in July. However, with all the stressful situations and sounds we confront each day, Miranda and I are aging exceedingly pre-maturely. I have replaced my gym workouts with games of shuffleboard, and Miranda has replaced her Vogue with AARP magazine. And if the old age doesn’t get Miranda, there is a good chance she will fall from the bathroom sink that she hops up on to tweeze her gray hairs. That fall will likely cause her to break her hip, which invariably leads to incurable pneumonia in old people even though nobody knows why.


So, as you can see, the drug cartels present little danger to us. Going forward, whenever you see or read media coverage of Mexican gang violence and innocent people getting caught in their crossfire, don’t worry about Miranda and me. Rest assured that we will be securely holed up in our apartment dodging attack cats and drinking ourselves stupid.