My last day in the DF and, like so many mornings in this town, my eyes open to a criminal hangover. This cruda is beyond, and, suddenly, the cantina hopping and hanging in Toms Leather Bar until 4 am seem less legitimate without the strength of Ron Bacardi’s fortified

The weather has been indecisive since the day I arrived and today is no different. Heavy oversaturated thunderheads lean on the craggy edges of El Mordor: Mexico City. I’m not sure if it’s lightning I see in the corner of my eye, or my espantos arriving uncharacteristically early. Still, no