At Least My Nails Look Good

It’s funny. Even when Anthony and his mother got back and were just laying down sleeping, the RV felt really quite crowded. My options were as follows: lay in bed, eyes wide-open like a crack addict and wait for the rest of my life for them to wake up, stand up and don’t move in the four-foot hallway which also housed our gourmet chef’s kitchen and bathroom door, or Google the nearest nail salon and get a mani/pedi. I think that considering I was now unemployed, we all know what the obvious decision was here…

Once my really pretty nails were dry, I headed back toward the RV Park and my new room mates. (Hmmm, I can see now after writing that last sentence why people were judging me a little bit back then). When I walked in, Mama D was eating a raspberry pop-tart and Anthony had a mixing bowl full of Honey Nut Cheerios. A kettle of water was almost boiling on the stove for some hazlenut  instant coffee – something I admittedly had never even seen or tried before then. Turns out, with the right amount of International Delight creamer it’s really quite enjoyable. Since it was about 4:30 in the afternoon though, I passed on the breakfast spread and selectively forgot to mention that I housed an In-And-Out burger on the way home. With fries.

Before I could ask when we were bringing Mama D to the airport for her flight home, I was informed that Anthony had been traded to a team that was still playing in the playoffs so she was sticking around. He was now on the roster for a team in Guaymas (pronounced why-mus), which was a mere 9 hours south of where we were in Arizona. The first two games of the series though were in some place called Caborca – only 4 hours south of us – and we had to be there the next day. Well this was somewhat of a predicament. Besides the fact that my dad loaded me  up with articles on violent Mexican crime and border wars, we also only had two means of transportation – Grandma and my shiny, white BMW. Before I had gotten there, Anthony and his mother had been renting cars and using them to travel through Mexico, but Mama D expressed very clearly  how expensive it was to get Mexican car insurance on a rental car. I took Anthony out back to our bedroom (our bed) and shut the door (slid the partition). My dad’s voice was piercing the hell out of my ears – “Don’t even think about taking that car into Mexico!” he said before I left. Well duh, what do I look like, Dad? Someone that quits their $85,000 a year job for unemployment claims. Pffftt.

So I reiterated my concerns to Anthony and told him there’s no way I was taking my car into Mexico. He understood. Loud and clear. Well, he said he understood, but somehow the next morning we were adding Mexican insurance to my car and loading up the trunk with baseball bags and raspberry pop-tarts. What was I going to do?? Fight with my boyfriend’s mother? Maybe, but not 7 months into the relationship. Respect your elders was a concept I was being severely challenged with, but I zipped my mouth and put on my best “I’d like to smash you both” face. To make matters worse, I wasn’t comfortable driving around Mexico in a BMW, and Mama D insisted that Anthony couldn’t drive and get tired before he played so guess who sat in back with the dog? Yeah. Me and my pretty nails.

Before we crossed into Mexico, we had to stop and speak with an agent about where we were going and why. I piped up from the back seat like a mental person and asked him, “Would you say its pretty safe taking this car into Mexico? I mean, DEEP into Mexico?” I will never forget the guys face. He smirked, handed us back our forms of identification, and just kind of snuffed, “Good luck.” I leaned back and started Googling the safety of Mexico, and Caborca in particular. Here was a reassuring excerpt I came across in my studies:

“The number of kidnappings and disappearances throughout Mexico is of particular concern. Both local and expatriate communities have been victimized. In addition, local police have been implicated in some of these incidents. We strongly advise you to lower your profile and avoid displaying any evidence of wealth that might draw attention.  “

Oh, so by “lower your profile,” you mean take a brand new BMW as far as you can into Mexico because it saves a few bucks. Brilliant. When I started reading the articles out-loud to drive my point home, Mama D assured me that God had a plan for everyone and I shouldn’t be worried. Yeah. Okay lady. And I had plans to live past 28 before this knucklehead move. I leaned back in my seat, defeated, and shot a few prayers up to the big guy while we persistently carried on our way through Mexico.


One thought on “At Least My Nails Look Good

  1. And you certainly wernt lowering ur profile with ur flashy,new, professional mani/pedi 🙂
    Oh and wait, live past 28? Have I had too many LIME A RITAS? I am 29 🙂
    You have to add pics!! Great post!!


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