Policia

When preparing for our trip to Mexico, we kept hearing about the Mexican Police (Policia). Apparently they are nasty fellows, and not interested in making your vacation any lovelier. In fact, they have a terrible reputation for picking on American tourists.

So, I carefully observed the speed limit (to the best of my ability) and tried to make heads and tails of the lanes, the speed bumps and the Retorno lane (u-turns). See the previous post for more.

All was going well, until we decide to take a taxi into Playa del Carmen for the evening. Had a great dinner, a lovely time at a local bar, and then a rousing ending to the night at the Blue Parrot, where we danced, made sand angels (don't ask) and watched fire dancers.

Got into the tiny taxi, prepared to shell out our 150 pesos for a safe ride home.

We head out onto the highway, laughing, joking with the driver (in broken, high school Spanish) and were all feeling good (we love tequila).

Then, in the dark, as we rode along through the jungles (literally), with zero street lamps to illumniate our way, we see blue lights flashing.

Now, let's all be honest. Even if you're not driving, those blue lights are enough to make your heart race and palms sweat. Now add to that the urban legends/rumors we'd heard about the Mexican Policia, and the fact that we're 4 American chicks in this tiny taxi, and we're literally freaking out.

Janine is up front with the driver, and knows a little Spanish (un poquito) and she's glancing nervously at the driver. Smart enough to wait it out, we all sit quietly.

He gets out. Walks back toward the cop.

Uh, sir? That's not what we do. We wait, roll down the window and DON'T MOVE.

I crane my neck around (hoping the blue light glare will hide any activity in the car from police view) and see him back there, joshing with the cop.

Uh, sir? This isn't funny.

The cop comes around to us, machine gun in hand (yes, I said machine gun) and rounds the car, with a flashlight in the windows. I manage a feeble smile. Not a "we're guilty, sir" smile, but a "see, we're harmless, sir" smile.

He goes back. Cab driver gets back in. The whole thing lasted about 6 minutes.

The lights go off, we drive away.

Silence.

Janine looks at me. I look at the girls. We say to him, together (as if that's not complicated), in really bad Spanish, "what happened?" (for sake of blog readability, I'll use English here). He replies, in even worse English, "marjiuana."

Uh, sir? Please tell me we're not in a car with you while you're toting drugs across town, or whatever?

Apparently he was clean, but the cop pulled us over because he saw 4 girls, presumably white American girls, and was suspicious. I have no idea how the "flashlight in the eyes" from outside the car was supposed to clear our names, but apparently it did.

Frankly, it all worked out fine (somehow) and we didn't end up going to Mexican prison.

But, damn, wouldn't THAT have been one heck of a blog?!