A Mega hit

Wednesday was supply day at the Mega which is a fun 15 minute ride away down the highway. A leisurely stroll took us up to the bus stop and we sat on the concrete bench waiting for either a bus or passenger van. Almost immediately a 12 person collectivo lurches to a stop and six of us pile in. Surprisingly we made a total of 11 but there was a ginormous Mexican woman who could count as three by herself. The driver looked in the mirror and mentally calculated that he had room for five more.

I drew the short straw and sat where the seat cushion had given up the ghost a couple of years previous. One plus was that I was able to line up my butt cheeks with the frame rail and it helped stabilize me when we changed lanes on the highway.

At the Mega stop we all piled out onto the sidewalk. Now it was decision time, walk the hundred yards to the foot bridge that crossed the two service roads and four lanes of the Mexican Speedway aka: the freeway or wait for a break in the traffic and sprint (sic) across and save yourself five minutes. Nobody chose the footbridge.

All of us were in a similar age bracket, 65-75, and all of us were in denial of our physical capabilities. We were spread out along the curb of the first service road, all looking to the left, facing the direction of the first two stages of traffic. It only took twenty seconds for everybody to reach the next serious obstacle. Here some of the couples joined hands as they looked at the oncoming cars, trucks, and motorcycles. Two women kissed their spouses just in case it was their last time. A few people looked towards the footbridge and one couple actually bailed out on us. That left fourteen to take the plunge.

I was at the head of the line and looked at the geriatric crew out of the corner of my eye and they looked like so many bowling pins that were ripe for a striking blow should they falter. I was in a sprinter”s stance with my hand on my knee leaning forward. There were a few that should they attempt this maneuver would keel over right into the grille of a Volvo tandem dump truck, so they stood in an upright position.

I made my move and unlike the time I came fifteenth out of fifteen in a fun race at our Sunday school picnic (I pulled a hamstring), this time I was the only daredevil and it was a success! The other men in the team now had the pressure firmly on them. You could see that my standing among the women had moved up considerably and the men would have to move quickly or I might inherit a harem.

The next gap saw everyone safely to the curb on the center median and now all heads looked right and I was the farthest away. A faraway traffic light opened an opportunity and we were all across in a matter of minutes. The couple who balked earlier and took the bridge were already pushing their shopping cart down the produce aisle by the time that we made it to the store entrance. We’re here for the adventure and not plotting our next move to the seniors home. We were the real winners.

My mind was reeling with the capitalist opportunities that this could produce. Forget $100 whale watching tours, I could lead freeway excursions for a mere $50. Let’s see… no capital costs up front… factor in Mexican liability insurance (non-existent) and it would be a $50 per head profit total. I’d have to have to file that one away under the Brilliant Idea file folder.

Needless to say we arrived back home with a smattering of foodstuffs and a boatload of wine and tequila. Time for a siesta by the pool.