City driving in the U.S can oftentimes be quite mundane.  As we go through the motions of the usual stop-and-go, bumper-to-bumper gridlock, we cease to be entertained by little more than obscure bumper stickers, offensively dirty vehicles with “Wash Me” dragged through the rear windshield’s grime, and/or the occasional nose picker who wrongfully believes themselves to be invisible behind the wheel.  This is the American reality—a world where the most entertainment one will encounter whilst stationary may include a flashy billboard sign or humorous radio commercial—but in Mexico, as my family and I would quickly come to find out, red lights mean “go” when it comes to roadside entertainment.

On the occasion that I tagged along to “el supermercado” with my mother or went out to eat with the family, it was inevitable that we were going to have to stop, at some point, at a stop light, stop sign, or intersection.  Unlike in the U.S, such stopping areas in Mexico were often peppered with old, bearded beggars panhandling for money whilst holding cardboard signs and rusty, dented, Folgers coffee cans as collection containers.  Though such a rampant state of poverty was undoubtedly unfortunate and sad, sometimes these situations became even a little more heartbreaking when the children of the beggars stood beside their own parents in the street, begging for money so that they could eat.  It was the site of starving children that really pulled on my heartstrings and made me wish I could just give to and help them all, but the overwhelming poverty level and the sheer magnitude of homeless beggars made such good intentions impossible to fulfill.  As time went on, however, I came to accept beggars in the street as the norm as I became desensitized to their presence.

Sometimes, though, the people in the streets were a little more ambitious and took advantage of the “sitting duck” circumstances of surrounding drivers.  This meant that rather than simply holding a sign and begging for money streetside, they would either try to sell goods to, or entertain, passerby commuters.  As we stood still at a stop light/sign, vendors would walk through the street along the painted lane-dividing lines carrying bags of supposedly fresh-picked oranges, handmade jewelry, and bouquets of roses for people to buy.  These items were often obscenely cheap to purchase, but also came with the suspicion and concern of not knowing where such items came from or were grown; there was a good chance that such goods had been stolen from a local farm or market nearby.  Additionally, there were daily stories on the news of such streetside “salespeople” robbing drivers from their cars.  A common scenario that would transpire involved a vendor approaching a vehicle and agreeing to sell, then when the customer was getting money from their purse or wallet, the vendor would pull out a knife or gun and demand that they be given the person’s entire wallet/purse or at least the contents within.  Other more extreme events involved the carjacking of vehicles by a nearby accomplice who would jump in the passenger seat while the vendor temporarily conversed with/distracted the driver.  Wary of such happenings, my parents never purchased anything from the street vendors or did so much as roll their window down for fear of their livelihood.

The other less driver-threatening way that the local Mexicans tried to solicit money from commuters was through entertainment or washing windshields.  Often times, people would walk up and down the stopped lanes of traffic in search of nice cars to target.  They would then, without permission, take the squeegee out of their bucket of dirty water and start wiping it across the windshield of your car.  When they were done, provided the traffic light hadn’t yet turned green, come to the drivers-side window and demand a tip.  Irrespective of the fact that your windshield may or may not have been dirty and that you may or may not have requested that they clean it, you were expected to shell out for their “service” in the interest of them not scratching, kicking, or otherwise damaging your car before you drove off. 

When you weren’t trying to avoid eye contact with street vendors and squeegee yielding windshield washers, your eyes were most likely fixated on the street-side shows that were taking place around you.  Most common were jugglers that tossed up anything from fruit to rocks and even flaming sticks, but what was much more interesting were the fire breathers and sword swallowers.  Admittedly dangerous, yet with seemingly no fear and little to lose, the street-side daredevils would plunge long, metal swords down their throats or “swallow” and expel fire into the air.  With these more high-risk activities, tips from bystanders and pedestrians were expected to be more generous given the increasingly hazardous nature of such entertainment.  For the time being, such acts served as employment and a relatively steady stream of income for those involved.

In reflecting upon the streetside shenanigans that I witnessed on countless occasions in Mexico, I am thankful that such activities are not condoned in the U.S.  While we may occasionally be exposed to beggars sitting along the sidewalk or on park benches, at least we can rest assured that stop lights/signs are not an open invitation for unprovoked solicitation or “service.”  Riding in the backseat of the family Suburban was often a fun and entertaining experience, but in hindsight, I am much more comfortable with simply listening to the radio, just waiting for the light to turn green.