A Blind Eye in the Storm

Mexican border towns are not known for their beauty and majesty. You are not magically transported to a place of timeless wonder and culture. You can describe these places by one word. Shitty. The roads are dangerous as people driving like Mexicans in Mexico are not good combinations. The sidewalks are littered with vendors trying to sell you cheap ass necklaces, CD's, and food with formations of flies making kamikaze runs at the tacos. Kids are constantly set loose to sell you gum and roses, tugging at your shirt the whole time. Get out of here little bastards. I brushed my teeth and don't have anyone special. It's pretty obvious that I don't like Mexico. You tend to be a little biased when you get in a fight over there and get a bottle cracked over your head. It was Friday when I went back. Payday Friday no less. My buddy was talking to me about the bottles of booze going for cheap. Cheap bottles? All the prejudice jumped out of me and my liver took over. Fuck it. Lets go. I always wanted to stock up a bar. Our journey was not of one to destroy the one ring that rules them all, but to seek out to get the one bottle that would rule our liver and senses. I have been described as a functioning alcoholic. We were on our way through streets bobbing and weaving through the kids and guys pushing their wares. Everything stopped for a moment as I looked to my left. There was a dirty woman sitting down on some old blankets with some little kids standing and sitting next to her. The kids were in dirty clothes standing around like they were in some sort of stasis. I felt like I was doing a walkon part for a fucking Feed the Children commercial. She was cradling a little baby with one arm and hold an outstretched palm towards me with the other. Our eyes met for a couple seconds. I proceeded to do what most of the world would do. I turned my head and walked away. When you do that, your mind goes through a weird process trying to rationalize what you have done. You start to think you have done the right thing. What kind of mother would have her kids begging? Why does she have so many kids if she can't take care of them properly? She probably would have spent it on something other than her kids the fucking bitch. It's a lot easier to start thinking republican when you are faced with some sort of vender atrocity. It's Friday and I'm here to get bottles and get drunk tonight. I'm not going to let this bring me down. Why worry about what I just did when there are so many other important distractions in my life. All of these thoughts only take a few seconds. Then they start to scratch in the back of your mind. We were heading back to car after we got our bottles and our paths crossed once again. I gave her a ten and our eyes met again. I then turned and walked away. Was that the solution? Do you just throw money at it to ease some inner conscience conflict? Give yourself a pat on the back and think you are a good person? Something is wrong with that. God damn it. I'm such an asshole.