You charged me $22.50 for a plate of fetucinni alfredo. It was eight years ago and I was in Cabo San Lucas, eating dinner at a mediocre-to-decent tourist restaurant (as if there is anything other than tourist restaurants in Cabo San Lucas). If this were the United States, your restaurant would be the equivalent to a Macaroni Grill or Olive Garden, neither of which charge $22.50 for a plate of pasta, even the ones in New York.
Speaking of, why the fuck were you even serving pasta in Cabo San Lucas? When did Mexican food stop being cool for you? Was it too hard to convince fat Americans to spend $22.50 on a burrito? Even one with fresh camarones? Were so many Americans demanding pasta that you readily gave up your own cuisine to make a buck? And why was I buying it?
Mostly because I was still under the impression that you were the Mexico of my youth, when my family would drive down Highway One to Ensenada, the air heavy with the smell of rotting kelp and donkeys, stopping along the way in La Mision for a seaside lobster dinner, costing at most $9.99. You see, Mexico, that was your charm. Your ocean was the same one we had in San Diego, albeit a little dirtier. Your people were pretty much the same too, especially those of us who worked in San Ysidro. What we came for the culture and the price. It was well known: There were deals to be had in Mexico. While yes, I was a spoiled white suburban boy from the United States coming to exploit your country with the money daddy gave me, you must admit you were complicit in the affair. You gladly sold me shitty, fake leather wallets for well more than they were worth, to mention nothing of your adobe pigs and rough-hewn blankets. But the relationship was good! Why did you have to change it? I happily gave you money, convinced I was getting a deal. And you happily took my money, convinced you had ripped me off.
But you had to get greedy, Mexico. You weren't happy being Mexico any longer. You wanted to be a browner version of the United States or Japan or Sweden, with better beans. When I went to Cozumel in 2005 you charged me $5,250 for a beach house, which officially put you in the territory of the Hamptons and well-past the territory of the Florida Keys. And unfortunately, you aren't much prettier than Florida Keys. You see, Mexico, the Hamptons can get away with that pricing because the laws of the United States guarantee certain ... privileges ... that we Americans are will to pay for: Plumbing, potable water, prevention from attacks by hungry wild dogs, food not seasoned with Hepatitis A, and regulations on cabs.
I mention this last one, Mexico, because you charged me $60 to go one way between my house in Cozumel and the grocery store, which was twenty minutes away. In case you've never been to New York City, Mexico, a taxicab from JFK to anywhere in Manhattan is limited to charging $45, by law. So now, Cozumel, you have become even more expensive than New York City, meaning I have no reason to visit you. You've lost your charm of an affordable vacation spot.
Did I mention the monstrosity known as Cancun? You know, that city your government built in 1967 after a study by Banco de Mexico as to the best location for ripping off American tourists? The place with over 150 hotels and 380 restaurants, most of them chains? Did you know last time I was there I asked our hotel concierge where we could go for an authentic Mexican dinner, you know, since all I saw around me were Tony Romas and Buffalo Wild Wings, and you sent us on a twenty-five minute drive just to find Mexican food? And once we were there each dish was $18.95 or more? Granted, I wasn't expecting you to send me to a local plumber's house for a free menudo dinner, but something closer to "authentic" would have been nice.
So now, Mexico, I've read that the IMF has released a report warning you are in grave danger of going bankrupt, similar to Iceland. And then the Swine Flu hit (which was originally called the Mexican Swine Flu, until you balked). And you know what? I couldn't be happier. Don't you see, Mexico? That's why we go! The thrill of possibly catching Swine Flu! And the deals that come with that threat! It's the same reason I went to Jack in the Box two days after six hundred people were sickened with E. Coli! The deals! If I wanted to go somewhere clean that strictly followed the most stringent of health codes, I'd go to a resort in Palm Springs or Sedona. But I don't. I go to you, Mexico, for Mexican food and fresh Seafood (not Italian food or Chinese food) that is more affordable than that I might buy in, say, Oslo. I go to you for a beautiful view of the Caribbean Sea or Pacific Ocean that is below a fair price of $150 a night. I go to you for your people, and your music, and your land, and yes, for your prices.
Don't ever forget If Mcdonald's started charging $18.95 for a burger nobody would go. And yet they are the among the richest companies in the world. One 99-cent burger at a time. While I admire your desire to find the success of a country like the United States, and match our wages, and our popularity, and our sanitation, once you reach this point, I have no reason to go to you any more, Mexico. All you will have become is a lesser version of the United States, replete with overpriced houses and dickhead Investment bankers and restaurants that charge $14.50 for guacamole and chips, and that is exactly what I am trying to escape. I'll have to find somewhere else affordable. Guatemala. El Salvador. A war-torn country.
So, whether you know it or not, swine flu and bankruptcy is the best thing to ever happen to you. And yes, that is the opinion of a spoiled white ignorant American asshole, but believe me, you won't care about that when I agree to buy your fake gold necklace for $15 dollars more than you spent on it. I will be happy thinking I'm exploiting you, but deep down, you'll know you are exploiting me. You'll know that for all my arrogant judgments and feelings of superiority, you are better than me. And that, mis amigos, is what makes neighbors muy bueno.