Bugs

San Luis Potosí, Mexico

Upon arriving in San Luis Potosí City I dropped my things off at the hostel and set out to explore. San Luis is a city of about a million people, but after a month in Guadalajara, the streets there felt eerily quiet. Also extremely narrow. The buildings were russet and tan and smushed together like the rest of the city.

In the city center I found a plaza full of people. In Mexico, every Sunday families head to the central plaza for sweets, games, and friends. I don't think we have an analogous community event in the United States. We probably should though.

Traveling alone and without children, I skipped the family fun in the plaza and instead found a bar overlooking the square. I ordered a Michelada, which is like a bloody mary with beer instead of vodka, and read more of From Here To Eternity. Possibly this would be the norm for the next year. Alone with a book in a bar.

Back at the hostel I struck up a conversation with Eduardo, an engineer who was living at the hostel for free in exchange for helping the owner. He told me that he was managing the hostel for the weekend while the owner was away at Pride in Mexico City.

Eduardo and I went out to a local bar known for its craft beers. We were going to share one pitcher only, but we couldn't find a seat at first, so we ordered pints. By the time our pints were gone we had a table and ordered a pitcher.

Somewhere towards the end of our first pitcher I thought it would be prudent to inform Eduardo, who was clearly gay, that I was straight. Eduardo did not much appreciate being so informed and in fact became quite defensive and offended, posing questions a la what's wrong with straight people that they always think they have to throw their sexuality in your face... We still managed to finish the pitcher.

The problem with the first bar was that the pitchers were too pricey, so for our second pitcher we relocated. This place was picnic table seating, 80 peso pitchers of Modelo ($4-$5), and hip-looking locals. Towards the end of this pitcher Eduardo started getting touchy - putting his hands on my shoulders and the like. I told him to back off and he got defensive again. De-escalation of bar arguments has never been one of my strengths. I couldn't think of anything good to say, so I left.

I was halfway back to the hostel when I started feeling remorseful. I felt bad for Eduardo, with whom I had hit it off pretty well and then left drunk and alone in some bar. I decided to go back. Sadly I couldn't remember where it was. Eventually I got a hold of him via Messenger and he directed me back to the bar. At which point we purchased our third pitcher and then some last call beers and presumably talked about things.

We returned to the hostel without incident. He retired to his room and I to my bed in a shared dormitory. I was too drunk to sleep, so I put some earbuds in and lay in bed itching and listening to extremely loud punk rock and metal. I slipped in an out of consciousness, the booze and bites making it difficult to sleep.

At some point during the night I got up and went to the bathroom. I was ogling drunkenly at myself in the mirror, reflecting on the many mosquito bites I had along my waist, and my arms, and my legs. Finally it occurred to me - why would I have mosquito bites on my waist? Bed bugs!

I stumbled out into the common area and woke up the non-Eduardo hostel worker sleeping on the couch. Bed bugs! I showed him the bites on my waist and struggled to explain in my crappy Spanish - bed bugs! He found a flashlight and we went into the room to check the bed. It was crawling with bed bugs.

So...I took a shower. Then I got paranoid that I had touched clothes that could have bed bugs and I took another shower. I got a couple hours of sleep on the couch. I spent the next morning failing to find an open laundromat and instead washing my clothes by hand. Before leaving for the bus station I wrapped my clothes in copious amounts of plastic bags, hoping that would work until I could access a dryer.

I had over 100 bites on pretty much all areas of my body excepting my groin and my head. The bloodthirsty fuckers were at least that tactful.

When I boarded the bus out of town I was hungover, sleep-deprived, and miserably itchy.