Don't ask, I just take the pictures.
Cabs in Mexico don't have a set or fixed fare. They'll take you to your destination, let you out, and then demand an outrageously high amount of money. Do NOT ever pay this amount, as that is one of the biggest signs of stupidity in the world, second only to investing money in a dot-com organization. You should try to talk the driver down to a more modest price, a process known as "negotiating." However, unlike traditional negotiating (which most Mexican cabdrivers are used to doing), you must engage in a very confusing and complicated version in order to successfully wear them down. Observe this fictional conversation which really happened to me:
CABDRIVER: "Okay, I drove you 60 feet, you pay 100 pesos."
ME: "I'll pay you nothing."
CABDRIVER: "No, 100 pesos."
ME: "Fine, 10 pesos it is, my good man."
ME: "Yes, 62 it is."
CABDRIVER: "62 is not 100."
ME: "62 isn't 62, nor is it 100, so take the leftover 38 and use it to go towards the 62."
ME: "Use the 38 from the 62 and the 100 to pay for the fare, and I'll use the resulting 24 for your tip, okay?"
CABDRIVER: (pulling out a large baseball bat) "The price just went up 300 pesos."
ME: "I bruise easily."
No matter where you go, there will always be a floating mass of warm air which smells like unrefined ass SOMEWHERE in the area. Nobody knows where these blobs of stench come from or where they are ultimately going, but they will linger over certain areas of Mexico for lengthy periods of time until children learn through evolution to naturally avoid these areas when traveling anywhere. The area essentially turns into the irradiated mass of land resulting from a nuclear attack in the Command and Conquer series.
If you pay a 180 peso cover charge so you may take advantage of an "all you can drink" bar hop, be advised that the only things which you can drink "all of" are limited to:
Red Koolaid which more than likely hasn't ever had any alcohol anywhere within a 50 mile radius of it,
Mysterious chemical X which is the color of a urinal cake and tastes about 60 times sweeter.
If a short Mexican woman comes up to you with a whistle and a bottle of Sex on the Beach which she wants to pour down your throat, do NOT allow her to. They cost about as much as the Mir space station and taste even worse. If the lady then asks for a tip after suckering you with the multi-million peso drink scheme, cooly reply, "you know, all those stereotypes about Americans owning six handguns each is true. In fact, I have two children who don't own any handguns, so I've had to pick up the slack for them. Do the math, you grande whore." Note the fluent Spanish insult I ended that quote with.
Are you concerned that you may be a character trapped in a Tom Waits song? Be smart and learn the warning signs before it's too late. Also, it's too late. It has always been too late.
I'm haunted by a recurring vision of a skeleton flipping me off. To avoid seeing this terrifying image in bumper sticker form, I pay someone with a blank bumper to drive in front of me at all times.
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