727 Singalong

An e-mail I sent to Marianne on my second day in Mexico on my fifth trip to that country:

"The Mexican people efface their own cliche with a bold buoyancy from which the rest of the world could learn a much needed lesson. Notwithstanding, their risibility is still well earned as their social rituals are sometimes naively proud, and comically loud.
While boarding my evening flight from Monterrey to Mexico, it came to my attention that the population of this flight exemplified the cliche a little more than usual. The passengers were visibly stereotypical, complete with a sombrero here, a pancho there, a mustachio in the back, and I think I saw a goat running across the aisle. I chuckled and took my seat when the pilot promptly announced over the intercom that "air traffic at our destination in Mexico City was quite heavy so we will delay our departure by twenty minutes to allow the congestion to subside." Pretty good English, I thought to myself as I reclined back into my seat and let my heavy eyelids ease shut.
My condescending appreciation was abruptly interrupted. Seated somewhere behind me, a typically gregarious young fellow pulled out a guitar-like instrument that I'm guessing was a mariachi. He began playing and singing a bouncy little Mexican ditty so that all could hear. Within a few seconds, not finding it the least bit disruptive, some of, and then most of the other passengers quite willingly began singing along with him until I was regaled with a full chorus Mexican serenade, of which all members were otherwise utter strangers singing along to this obviously well known song. It was a little gauche and a lot humourous, and it made me stop and think how unlikely it would be to have any such sociable liberty occur on a flight originating from Canada. By the time they started into the encore-hailed second song, the plane began to move and the singalong slowly faded to quiet. I thought that I had been blessed with yet another singular anecdotal blog entry but I had 'spoken' too soon, for the flight was not yet over.
Some twenty minutes later, I had had my nose buried in an History of Opera book and was distracted from the moment. The flight attendant approached me, what felt like 'out of the blue', and said, "Would ju like-a some penis?"
"Uh. Excuse me?"
"Some penis. Some penis. Ju are want some penis? For put in jour mouth. Penis for jour mouth."
I was dumbfounded and it caused her some impatient frustration. She pulled a small package from the cart and dangled it in my face. "Oooooooh! Some PEANUTS. Right, right. No, thank you." Even if I had wanted them, I doubt they would have settled properly after that little interaction. The plane landed uneventfully in a rain-soaked Mexico city and I alighted with laughter."

See you in hell,
Shakes.