Monday, February 1, 2010

Guanajuato, Mexico -- STREET ATTACK!

I was attacked this morning on the streets of Guanajuato, Mexico.

My assailant was an old, rusted street sign that only Mexican midgets could have avoided hitting with their heads.

Midgets? What am I saying? Almost everyone in this town is less than five feet tall and that is where this street sign, a penalty warning for not throwing trash in the streets--a joke, was set: exactly five feet off the sidewalk.

It was sharp, it was bent (no doubt from gringos crashing into it), it was rusted with a vicious, sharpened edge, it was rusty.

I went crashing into the thing. I crashed so severely that it not only rung my bell, as they say, but I began to bleed.

The vicious sign cut me.

My wife dutifully examined my cut and found the blood. She stemmed the crimson tide with a tissue. I felt I would hurl when she showed me the blood from my gushing gash.

We were out to run some errands. But that domestic quest was so rudely interrupted by an ill placed, razor sharp and dangerously angled weapon designed to rid the streets of anyone over five foot tall which means anyone who is NOT a Mexican.

I am over six foot.

Off we went to the emergency walk-in clinic to have life-saving medical procedures performed on my throbbing, bloodied head.

We decided to drop in on our favorite gay doctor. He was busying himself with a little bit of embroidery for a dress for one of his dolls. (I swear to God this is true.) My wife immediately went to oohing and aahing over his handicraft. The two of them seem to meld into some out-of-phase dimension where only lovers of this sort of thing could communicate.

Finally, Dr. Dolly jumped up to look into my horrendous medical emergency.

Both he and the wife finally reintegrated into my space-time reality and went probing through my bloodied mop.

"A scratch..." Dr. Dolly announced and gave me the grave prognosis that I would be fine.

The blood was just blood-tainted plasma.

I would live.

I quired him with a pained and worried cry whether I would need injections to stave off the infection and tetanus that had to be coursing its way through my cardiovascular system.

Dr. Dolly said I could get shots if I wanted to and told me where to do it for free. But, he assured me, it was not necessary.

So, there you have my brush with certain death I experienced today at the hands of some fool who placed a sign sharp enough to take off my head on the streets of Guanajuato.

I will live. Barely.


A Walk Through Mexico's Crown Jewel: A Guanajuato Travelogue CLICK HERE



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