macho macho man
The drivers here are a nightmare. It’s- Hey que tal amigo!; Como esta amiga?, until they get behind the wheel of a car. Once the motor’s running, amigo goes right out the driver’s side window. Macho takes over- women drivers too- and the road is not safe for gringos or the timid.
Mexican drivers honk if you’re not going fast enough for them, cut you off, turn left in front of you or next to you in the non-existent 2nd and sometimes 3rd left turn lane, don't stop for stop signs, U-turn in front of no U-Turn signs and drive without lights at night.
We made a wrong turn in Acapulco and ended up in the worst traffic jam I've ever been a part of. We needed to make a left at an intersection that had 6 lanes feeding into it. Everyone ignored the traffic lights and the traffic cop. We watched the traffic cop walk away and ignore the mess from the safety of the sidewalk. We inched our way into the intersection and became completely entangled with buses, taxis and passenger vehicles going in every direction imaginable. We were sardines literally within inches of each other. The only way to move was like the handheld game you played as a child in which you slid one square up or over and then moved the next square to it's place. Of course here, these machos wouldn’t move and give anyone else the advantage; amigo this buddy. We sat for almost 15 minutes while people honked impotently and waited for someone else to get out of the way.
Mexican drivers honk if you’re not going fast enough for them, cut you off, turn left in front of you or next to you in the non-existent 2nd and sometimes 3rd left turn lane, don't stop for stop signs, U-turn in front of no U-Turn signs and drive without lights at night.
We made a wrong turn in Acapulco and ended up in the worst traffic jam I've ever been a part of. We needed to make a left at an intersection that had 6 lanes feeding into it. Everyone ignored the traffic lights and the traffic cop. We watched the traffic cop walk away and ignore the mess from the safety of the sidewalk. We inched our way into the intersection and became completely entangled with buses, taxis and passenger vehicles going in every direction imaginable. We were sardines literally within inches of each other. The only way to move was like the handheld game you played as a child in which you slid one square up or over and then moved the next square to it's place. Of course here, these machos wouldn’t move and give anyone else the advantage; amigo this buddy. We sat for almost 15 minutes while people honked impotently and waited for someone else to get out of the way.
Tommy got us through Acapulco by channelling macho. He became just as aggressive as the taxi drivers and started cutting them off. Someone must have blinked because we did eventually move, probably a tourist. It took us 45 minutes to get through Acapulco. We never saw the beach or the hotels and not once did anyone ask me- Que tal amiga?
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