The low-rider pesero

Yesterday some girlfriends and I had coffee in Polanco, and we decided to take a pesero home. I love taking peseros — they’re the rumbly, green-painted mini-buses that go everywhere in the city, usually for around four pesos. Since the routes aren’t mapped anywhere, you usually have to ask the driver, “Oiga! Van por…?” if you want to get to the right spot.

Jesica asked, and we ended up on the side of Presidente Masaryk, waiting. (As a sidenote, pesero knowledge is valuable stuff, and exchanged among my car-less Roma and Condesa friends like a good taxi service number. If someone knows of a neighborhood pesero that stops at a major location, like the Centro or Polanco, this fact is discussed and shared.)

After a few minutes of waiting, a pesero rolled up, but it wasn’t like any pesero I’d ever seen before. It was lowered. And boxy, like a Toyota Scion. Cheap black tinting film covered half the windows. The drivers-side door opened — squeeeeak — and reggae, the kind I’ve heard at Kaya, wafted out, the bass booming. The three of us girls exchanged looks (whaaa?) and got on. You have to get on quickly, or else the driver will hit the gas and you’ll end up half-hanging out the door.

For the next 20 minutes, until I got off at my stop, the twenty-something-year-old, spiky-haired driver kept the reggae blasting, fast-fowarding past the Pitbull and the Will Smith. (Guess this was a mix.) Everyone in the bus ignored the music and stared straight ahead, but I kind of danced in my seat, which I’m sure made everyone think I was a wierdo.

Then Alice, who was kinda jamming out too, had a great idea.

“I wonder if we can rent out this pesero as a party bus?”

DUDE. Imagínate! A pesero-pub-crawl along Presidente Masaryk. Rolling up to Celtics and Irish Pub Concept in the tinted-windowed, Scion-esque mini-bus. It’d be worth it just to see the look on people’s faces. (Of course, we know this could never happen, but the idea made us laugh. ….Unless maybe…. ?)

As my stop approached, I desperately wanted to get a photo of the pesero’s low-rider exterior. But I couldn’t get my camera ready in time. As soon as I jumped off — peseros stop for like three seconds, and not completely; it’s a California-stop kind of thing — the bus rumbled off down Rio Mississipi, reggae tunes fading away into the distance. Oh well. Thanks for the great ride, dude.

*To hear a snippet of the ride, click on the link under the photo.