21 hours ago i was livid. or, to use an expression i often heard my father and anthony say, i was hot.

first, let´s go back 46 hours. the office secretary came by and gave me a slip of paper. she did so casually, as though there were nothing special about it, and sauntered off to do whatever it is she does. noticing that in my hands was a note from the postal service of mexico, i was pleased because the package my sister amy sent had arrived. finally. then i noticed the date, june 18 (this was june 26th), and that the slip said ¨second notice.¨

i had left for the states on june 18th, so if this was the second notice, the first should have arrived at least 4 days earlier. june 14 saw me at school, teaching, normal routine. where was notice the first?

unable to make it to the post office before it closed (did i mention i was offered a full-time position at my school on this same afternoon?), i put off the trip for the next day. one day. big deal.

my friend gave me a ride to the post office and i arrived 15minutes before closing time. when i left 40 minutes later, i was, to say the least, nonplussed.

as i handed the woman behind the counter my slip, she asked me for my id. she wrote my passport number down on the paper i gave her and shuffled off to find my package.

do you ever think you know when there is going to be a problem? you order food, without onions would be a great example because onions are evil, and yet you know when it arrives that the food will have onions. people might call you paranoid, negative, a pain in the ass, whatever, but you know you are right. and then, when the food arrives, fucked up, you look to the other person to confirm that you were right. but, being right, does not make you happy. if anything, it pisses you off even more. naturally, you seek a vent for this frustration. profanity? depends on the scene. surly attitude toward any and all ¨help¨? definitely.

thus, as the older lady returned and informed more than asked that i had already received the package, i looked to my friend, who, alas, stayed in the car, and then paused before responding.

¨no¨

sometimes it is very pleasing that english and spanish coincide so. it was perhaps, i see it now, my pause that made her hesitate. she opened a red book with lots of lines, pages, signatures, and other scribblings of, probably, the five year olds who run el servicio postal mexicano.

¨look again¨ i said as curtly as possible. she complied and, if it were possible, crawled into the back room. clearly, i was ready to jump the counter, damn the sign informing that the area was for authorized personnel only. i refrained as the man with the uzi, i shit you not he carried an uzi, outside the door somehow calmed me.

i was then informed that my package had indeed been picked up already. i told her as cooly as possibly that my twin did not live in this country and either way, we spelled our first names differently. this confused her just long enough to prove to me she was at least listening.

five minutes later she returned from the overseer´s office (i think he is probably like 7yrs old) and motioned me to enter.

was this a trap? would the uzi man gun me down as i crossed the line into another world, a realm without reason where packages are distributed willnilly on a first come first served basis? no. it was not.

amazingly, i think the overseer was inclined to think that showing me a photocopy of identification of the person who retrieved a package clearly addressed to william davis would assuage my growing hostility. hmm. alberto flores zamora. well, we both have two ¨l´s¨ in our names at some point. looking into the eyes of the head of such an organized and professional outfit, i saw the one thing i knew i could never fight against and win.

indeed, what i saw in his eyes is not something you easily forget, nor is it easily feigned (although i certainly do not rule out he feels this way, or acts like it, daily). i restated the obvious to him hoping his look would change.

¨so you are telling me the mexican postal service gave a package addressed to william davis to alberto flores? what, then, is the purpose of showing you an id? can i have someone else´s package? i will show you my id first.¨

no, sarcasm went right past this one, as i feared it would, because he was, sadly, simple. in his eyes i saw that he did not really understand. he believed in what he had done. to him, he acted like loyal employee and faithful worker. on the package were the words ¨itesm¨. this is where i work. alberto flores told him he worked for itesm. ergo, the package went to the correct person.

flabbergasted and rather deflated, i accepted the situation as it was (you cannot browbeat a child who does not understand what it did was wrong any more than you should whip a horse for wanting the apple in your hand). what, praytell, did the mexi postal servce intend to do? well, first i needed to write explaining i wanted the matter looked into by them.

right.

did i have a pen on me, inquired the cretin. no (of course i did, but i was going to take his and keep it).

sitting at the desk, so kind that he offered me a seat, i thought of how i wanted to word the letter. oh, he told me what i needed to write, but i brushed aside his advice in favor of something more, how shall i put it, more strongly worded.

did i know that this letter would never leave that office? that no matter what i asked for i would not receive? that the mexi postal service ¨team¨ no more interest in me than i have in embroidery? yes. did i feel the need to release some hostility? indeed (a huevo- this is rather vulgar so i dont suggest repeating it the next time your spanish speaking server asks you if you would like another beverage, more salsa or the check).

¨i, william davis, arrived at the mexican postal service on (address) today at 1645 hours to retrieve a package. unfortunately, the workers of the m.p.s. had decided to give my package to alberto flores zamora of (address) without my consent or knowledge. acting for more me is not something i ever wanted the mps, or (and here i wrote the names of the kind staff who had assisted me so far) to do, nor would i ever like them to do so in the future.

negligence (i asked the overseer how to spell this word, to which he looked quite surprised and somewhat taken aback before slowly spelling it for me) by the staff of the m.p.s. is clear in this case; therefore, i request that said staff look for and find alberto flores zamora. then, i want my package delivered, preferably intact, by whom is not important, to me at (school address).

sincerely,
william davis


so ya, that took me about 10 minutes to write (partially because i knew the longer i was there, the longer they had to wait around (they closed at 5)). i watched as the mexi postal service´s chief intelligence officer perused my written request and smiled as he savored my description of the handling of events.

he then told me some bullshit about the how they were going to seriously look into the matter and get something done. as i had already copied down alberto´s home address and full name, i nodded and wished him luck in finding the package. i was assured that it would be found and delivered to me with all the haste within the power of the postal service (my friend sent me a letter when she was in chihuahua- this is part of mexico- 5 weeks ago and i have still not received it).

my anger had mostly subsided but disappointment grew in its stead. apparently, someone from my school had gone to the postal service after the third notice to get my package and deliver it to me. why had alberto waited three days without informing me? was alberto even an employee? was that even his name (i mentioned, i believe, my trip to where fake id´s are made, and the amazing authenticity they seem to possess)? where was the package? would someone else be ankle deep in russel stover coconut nest packages with traces of chocoloate on their cheeks and the stray jelly bean rolling around on the floor waiting for a cat, dog or rat to find it?

in the end, my package was delivered to me today, but not by alberto. i inquired about him through the school´s search page and indeed he is a worker in the package office. when i went to find him he was out tracking down the package of someone else. my package was on its way to my building to be delivered to me.

did the m.p.s. do as promised and come to the school to help find my package? was this why it was actually delivered to me this afternoon? one of the many things i have learned is simply not to question such occurrances. i have my package, unopened it appears and full of all my sister told me about. does anything else really matter? of course it does. but does anyone here care about my own misgivings? of course not.

hence, as i enjoy the chocolately goodness of a coconut nest, i think of alberto flores, wherever he is, and hope he rescues another package before the owner can get there to claim it. spread the joy to all, i say.

hey guys sorry for not writing sooner. the computers here wont let me log in very easily. i am staying on campus in a dorm with a roomie, who is cool, and am learning a lot. i will try to call you again soon dad, sorry we missed each other sunday. i think you were out or asleep when i called the last time.

all is well and if not sooner, i will write next monday and let you know about all the fun i had. i feel like i am 15 and at summer camp. but this is actually a lot of fun and very educational at the same time.

hope you are all well.

happy father´s day doughman! hope you are well and enjoying the summer in virginia.

to all you other father´s, i am looking at you jimza, happy day.

father´s day is fairly important down here, but it does not compare to mother´s day. for example, father´s day is sunday here every year. mother´s day, on the hand, is during the week, usually, and all mother´s who work get the day off. odd, no?

anyway, i leave for the good ole usa on monday morning. after a two year absence, i will be back in the us(sr) for about 5 days. going to las vegas! new mexico. ya, doesn´t quite have the same ring to it all. it is a tiny little town in the mountains of new mexico east of albequerque and santa fe. there is some tiny private university and i will be staying on campus, in a dorm, for the duration of my stay. i am going to talk about literature and teaching and the fun that is the international bac. program. should be pretty cool actually because i can make a lesson plan for an entire year during one week. of course, that is assuming i stay teaching where i am next semester.

as usual, my plans are up in the air a bit. i am not 100% sure where i will be in a few months, which is somewhat disheartening as i was hoping to stay at this school where i am. unfortunately, it looks as though there will be no full time positions for the coming year, and that means i make less money for doing about the same work. boo.

i dont know. i might suck it up and stay anyway. i certainly did not come to mexico only to make money. i am teaching literature classes i might never have a chance to teach in the usa (science fiction/future fiction for example), so there are many benefits to staying. i think i am just miffed that i thought there was going to be an opening and now there is not. oh well. suck it up.

enjoy the father´s day weekend and i will write from new mexico if i can (not sure if ¨talent night¨, i shit you not there is a talent night on the final night, will take up most of free time as i prepare my routine. it sounds like summer camp, westview on the james i hope it is not. could be worse i guess. i get to miss a full 5 days of class. that is cool).

anything interesting going on up there?