Surreal morning scene, not a dream. +/- 100 darkly uniform(ed) men trying to hold on but spilling out of the many exits of a sole big, black, fully packed school-type bus between the Auditorio National and Campo Marte. Squad cars lining the street, cops standing around. One says “buenos dias” in an inexplicably insinuating way and I squirm past, then reconsider and return to hesitantly ask, “Que pasa allá?” Curiosity can’t kill at 8:25am, can it?

The cops act out smoking a joint and injecting heroin to supplement their too-fast Spanish quasi-explanation in which I catch the words “marijuana” and something simlar to "intérlope"; it doesn’t make any sense, and I don’t think it’s just the language barrier. So this is the face of the War on Drugs, Mexican style?

Images reminiscent of some science fiction story deep in my subconscious stick in my head as I head up Reforma. If only I’d brought my camera today! The folks at Lonely Planet sure missed this attraction…

[photo pictured here is of a similar bus, same place, different day, minus the setting described above. use your imagination.]