Why Americans Are Hated, Even By Those Who Meet Them

So, I told my parents about this, but I never got around to writing about it on the blog, because I got sick, haha.

Last Sunday I met my friend John from Cleveland and the local bar that's about in between his hotel and my apartment. We met randomly there during the Spain v. Italy match and just talked for several hours. He's about 40, straight, and pretty much hilarious. A very typical Midwesterner, he's got a very open mind. He admitted having a poor opinion of the Mexican people...before he came here and kept up with their 11 hour days, 6 days a week. Needless to say, a newfound appreciation for the average worker here...and in the U.S.

Well, he was going back to his hotel after the match to meet a "señorita" he had met the night before, haha. Awesome.

So I was left at this bar (in Zona Rosa, which doubles as both the main tourist hang out and the gay area of town) with a free shot and a couple of beers. Seated at the table literally next to me were four very obvious Americans.

Perhaps it's a good time to explain how I was dressed. Spain jersey. Old Navy Shorts. Birkenstocks.

And I had been talking with a blue-blooded American for the last 3 hours.

I turned towards them and asked simply: "Hey, you mind if I join ya'll" (trying to throw in my best Midwestern tune)

And was greeted with an eminently polite: "Go to hell, faggot" which was followed by laughter and high-fives.

So, I sat there. And looked at them, incredulously.

"What, you don't get it, FAGGOT? Fuck off!"

So, I simply say, "Uh, what? My friend went to meet his girlfriend, so I was just hoping to talk to other Americans.."

Which was of course trumped by: "Look, cocksucker, if we wanted to talk to you, we'd let you know, so go back to sitting there and waiting for another cock" and another round of high-fives.

I'm not making this shit up. Someone said this to me. As an introduction.

Let's be clear, I've never even seen anything approaching this in Mexico. This of the über-Machismo, ultra-Maculine society. No, it takes a bunch of redneck Americans to remind me...that well, we pretty much suck, and I'm glad that they don't have conceal and carry laws here.

And let's also be clear that I really was not putting off that vibe, in the least.

So, let's just finish with, if you ever wonder why the world hates us, remember that all of these guys had "Semper Fidelis" tattoed on their legs.

Yea, these are the fuckers that represent us overseas by killing off anyone who they even begin to consider, ahem, "inferior"

No wonder. If you can't even start a conversation with them as an American over a beer, how can you convince them not to kill you when they're holding a gun at you...and you don't speak English.

So the Betting Is Over

Sorry for no posts in a while.

First, I got a horrible bug from something or another last Sunday.

Our choices:
1. Don Julio Tequila, more than 6 beers, and at least 2 random shots sent from the bar to our rowdy table @ El Bar Español
2. Un hamburgesa y 3 more beers and yet another round sent to a NEW group at a NEW table @ Champion
3. 2 beers (hey, I had to work in the morning) with yet ANOTHER group @ Random Cantina Whose Name I Will Never Remember
4. 1 rum and coke @ Seedy Gay Bar That I Somehow Ended Up At With "Oswaldo" y "Francisco"

Anyone who doesn't bet #4 should be shot.


Our second round of betting, when would Bradley first avoid being kidnapped/mugged.

Anyone who bet today, wins!

Except, it was scary as fuck. Think of two men about the size, consistency, and demeanor of Carlos Zambrano following you for about 8 blocks as you zigzag away from your apartment to avoid letting them know where you live.

Yea, that happened. I finally, like 8 or nine blocks of random turns got in a taxi at a light that was just about to change and got in, handed him 50 pesos and said:
"Conduce. No me importa a donde. CONDUCE"

Which in my limited Spanish would translate to:
"Holy shit, drive, I don't fucking care where we go, DRIVE"

About 9 or 10 blocks later (I asked him to take a couple random turns too) I got out and meandered my way back home.

Let's just say...it was scary as shit. Who knows if those guys were just playing around or if by some twisted joke of fate actually had to follow that route, or if more likely they just saw a decent target, in any case, when the BIG MOOSE x2 is following you around a city known for kidnapping Americans, it's not really worth finding out.

Or for that matter, looking to the police for help.

Happy 4th

I'm going to go drink a beer. Cause that was one crazy fucking day.