A Discount from the Mexico City Police - by Daniel

A Discount from the Mexico City Police
By Daniel

They get a bum rap those Mexican policia. All we hear about is the intimidation and extortion and very little about the deep discounts and excellent escort service. You might wonder: How did I get a 50% discount on my bribe to the cops as well as police accompaniment back to the superhighway?

It started in Guanajuato – an amazing place of labyrinthine alleys - a day out from trying to skirt around Mexico City’s sprawl (population 25 million – take that NYC!) en route to our final destination, Oaxaca. We were preparing ourselves for a bad day of marathon driving, hoping to make it slightly less wearing. We were eager to find THE route around Mexico City’s traffic snarls and smog. With map in hand, I went in search of travel advice. After many fruitless queries, I was told to look for the knowledgeable bartenders at the Fly Bar. An hour later – well-meaning directions proved to be contradictory - I entered the Fly Bar. A young, dreadlocked bartender, as friendly as our bouncy Labrador, Stella, listened as I described our dilemma. “I don’t know my way,” he responded, but his friends might.

Down the stairs we went to find them. They too listened, politely to my anxious plea. One pronounced, “no hay pedo” (literally “there is no fart”). In Mexican slang this means “it’s no big deal”. Dreadlocks invited me to a rock reggae party that night and sent me off with a complicated handshake which I could not follow. My hand hung lonely in the air.

Not much relieved we set out at dawn. Six hours later in a traffic snarl, we were pulled over by state police. The kids lifted their heads from their Nintendo devices to inquire what was happening. A police man who looked as though he’d had a broken beer bottle dragged down the left side of his face, informed me of the crime: we had the wrong license plates. To cut down on air pollution, Mexico City allows only certain plates with certain final digits to circulate. I’m all for that; I just didn’t know about it. The procedure: come down to the police station, get your vehicle impounded and the judge will receive our 5000 peso ($500 US) fine the following day.

I asked if there might not be some other, more expedited way to settle the matter right here and now. I was offered a discount to 2500 pesos. I asked for a moment to consult with Brian and Susanna – our partners in this adventure. Brian is a lawyer – a good one – but even he did need see fit to challenge the Mexican police and legal system. We’d seen bumper stickers saying “I don’t give bribes” and as admirable as that message is – and essential for transforming a rotten system - we saw no way around contributing to police corruption. I accepted the officer’s kind offer of 2500 pesos. He leaned his head far into the car, watching me count out the bills when I expressed that we might not have enough. Remarkably, because Brian and Susanna had the correct digits on their plates, they did not have to contribute to the police officer’s fund.

How to avoid getting stopped again en route to Oaxaca, I asked. They would lead us to the super highway. Follow me, he said. Tyler was convinced they’d lead us yet to an even darker, more abandoned alley for further fundraising and encouraged me to slowly lose the officer in traffic. He found us. An hour later after having signaled to other police not to stop us, with a cheery wave, he bid us adios and sent us south to Oaxaca.