a night at the opera

I went to a cat house and found a dog.


Just be patient, and all will be revealed.


Friday was a day of Mexico firsts. Two of them were bound to occur; the third was merely a bonus.


And that is where the first first shows up. We were on our way to the local theatre for a dose of culture. To save driving around a block, my compatriots urged me to reverse a half block. I should have objected. I have no depth perception. As a result, I am almost blind when driving in reverse.


You can already see it coming. I couldn't. I drove right into the bumper of an expatriate's car, denting their bumper and tearing off a piece of my truck's trim.


At least that got my first accident in Mexico out of the way.


Getting that resolved, we headed off to our cultural event. Before I mislead you any further, we were not on our way to the community theatre to see the latest production of Hedda Gabler. We were on our way to see a transvestite show.


Melaque is not Milan. And the theatre was not La Scala. Farm building would suffice as a description. Corrugated metal ceiling. Open sides.

The show included "free" food. Just as it arrived, so did a small nudging on the side of my left leg. There is a bordello in back, and I thought someone was freelancing. I looked down and found a cute cocker spaniel, who did his best begging routine. Unfortunately, I neglected to take a photograph.


The show was adequate to good. Most of the acts were adequate. Two were good.





I would like to say it was an entertaining night. But the best I can say is that it was my first Mexican transvestite show.


But the surprise portion of the show came from the audience. A fellow by the name of Jessy, who claimed to be a wealthy, former futbol player from Brazil, (you may insert your own doubts here) decided to interject himself into the performance.


There is no way to describe the fellow. But here he is. Feathers in his cap. Bling chain of beer cans. And several details I will omit in this G-rated site. At least, he appeared to be enjoying himself -- in an obnoxious, drunk sort of way.




But there was one more first. I had some trouble figuring out the formatting for the .mov files on my camera. (And I never resolved the problem.) I felt a slight brush on my ear. Certainly the cocker had not followed me home.


I looked at the floor to see what I had knocked off my ear. And recognized it immediately. It was an Africanized bee. On its way to an immediate execution.


Then the pain started in my ear. Coughing. Hoarse throat.


My colleagues helped with a sting wipe, an antihistamine, and a baking soda poultice. All of it was probably unnecessary. I have suffered many a sting. But it was nice to have the assistance.


Thus the third Mexican first.


And I had to leave the dog at the cat house.