Mexico City’s bustling subway economy

Back when Crayton and I rode the subway all the time — we’ve ridden less since moving into our apartment — we wondered about the merchants in the subway cars. There’s always one on board, trying to sell you Kleenex, pens, DVDs. But how was it that no two vendors ever sold in the same car, at the same time? And how could a merchant know that the guy before him wasn’t just selling his exact same product?

Turns out reporters at El Universal were wondering this, too, and they wrote a long, fascinating piece on the subway merchants in Sunday’s paper. The tone seemed a little classist at times, almost making the vendors sound like human oddities. (One passage described in detail what clothes the merchants wear, with the lead-in, “It’s easy to identify them…”) But overall I was pretty amazed at what the reporters found out: These guys have their own loose unions, and they charge pricey fees to join. To sell on Línea 2, for instance, it’ll set you back 4,000 pesos, or the equivalent of $300 dollars.

And the vendors are fiercely protective of their turf. If an outsider tries to squeeze his way in, dudes will start whistling — they have their own secret whistling codes — and alert the subway police, who will then impose a fine. (Selling isn’t technically a crime; more like an administrative misdemeanor.)

Isn’t that crazy?

A few other highlights from the story:

*Subway vendors make, on average, between 250 and 300 pesos a day. (This is between $15 and $23 USD.)

*Among the unwritten vendor laws: They’re not allowed to sell while drunk, or blast their music on the subway platform

*On Línea 2, the vagoneros, as the merchants are called, used their positions in a recent political campaign, drumming up support for Iztapalapa candidate Clara Brugada.

Basically, the vendors are stuck in a weird kind of limbo, because they’re not technically sanctioned or regulated by the city. And for riders it’s not entirely the best situation either. If a vendor is blasting loud music directly into your ears — who among us has had that happen? — the Metro police can fine the guy, but that won’t necessarily make him turn it down.

Interestingly, the vendors say they have every right to be there, because they’re earning a living. From the story:

“The Metro police are supposedly there to take out robbers, assaulters and marijuana addicts,” said one man, who has sold sweets for six years in the subway cars. “But with us they want to take away our work. Imagine the day in which there aren’t any vagoneros. What are people going to eat?”