Oh Mexico
part eight
New Year’s Eve arrived, and the pastor informed us that after the evening service, we would join the town’s celebration in the square. What that meant, in reality, was sitting in lawn chairs for a long time. At one point, I got excited when they began preparing sandwiches. I asked what they were and was told they were turkey sandwiches.
After days of nothing but fish, the thought of a turkey sandwich was a welcome change. But my excitement was short-lived. A lady handed me a plate with two slices of white bread, and I eagerly took a bite. My stomach dropped. Between the slices was a thick layer of mayonnaise and a big hunk of turkey skin. No actual meat—just the fatty, poorly cooked skin. If it had been fried crispy, maybe I could have managed it, but as it was, there was no way I could eat that without gagging.
I was in a dilemma. How could I get rid of this without offending anyone? I sat for a while, hoping no one would notice that I wasn’t eating. Then, I saw my opportunity—a dog was meandering around. I couldn’t just hand the sandwich to him, but I could let him “accidentally” take it from me.
“Pastor,” I asked, “What’s the plan for when the New Year strikes? Do you have fireworks?”
“Oh,” he smiled, “We just get up, greet one another, and give hugs and handshakes. That’s all.”
I looked at my watch. “Pastor, it’s already past midnight.”
He jumped up in a flurry, realizing he had missed the momentous occasion. He began loudly telling everyone to stand up and greet one another, motioning for them to get moving. This was my chance. I set the plate on the ground, fully confident that the dog would take care of it.
I kept one eye on my plate and the other on the activity around me. The dog was closing in, nose to the ground. He walked right up to the plate, and no one was paying attention. It looked like he was going to get away Scot-free with my turkey-skin sandwich. He sniffed it, glanced at me with a look of mutual understanding, and then turned around and walked away.
You know the sandwich is bad when even the dog rejects it.
In the end, I still avoided eating it. I claimed I was tired and needed rest for the ministry the next day. I excused myself and returned to my hammock.
