Trips to Mexico City are not pleasant. I’d been here for a week to teach a class and, depending on what part of the city you visit, you can either have a fantastic time or wonder if you’ll make it out alive. I usually don’t have a problem of safety. It was more about comfort. At my height and build, not many people bothered me. I’m sure my military background didn’t hurt either as I’ve been told I carry myself with some authority. When I’m taller and broader than everyone around me, very few people want to cause trouble.
This week’s class had been close quarter combat drills with the Policia Especial de Cuidad Mexico. Mexico city’s version of SWAT. While the Mexicans might be smaller than me, they made up for it in enthusiasm. Maybe I’d taught them too well because by the end of the week, they’d learned how to disarm me, sweep my legs, and I’d end up flat on my ass. I’d done my job and they were happy, which meant I got paid and that’s all that mattered.