Fresh Game

From all points south, they flock to a Sonoran bus station called "The Chicken Coop"

A A A Comments By David Holthouse Thursday, Feb 3 2000

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I tried not to look scared. It didn't work. The pollerto kept smiling.

"Oh," he said, looking at the knife as if he was surprised to suddenly find a blade in his hand. "Is this scaring you? No problem." He passed it to the old man, who let it fall in his lap.

J. Close

Milwaukee-bound migrants, across the street from "The Chicken Coop."

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"You're a problem," he said. "Who are you? Why are you here, asking questions?"

I told him I was just a tourist.

"This is not a place for tourists," he said. "There are no tourists here."

I told him he was right. Obviously, I'd made a mistake. He nodded and kept smiling. I stood up with my beer, wished the old man good luck, and walked away.

As I slid into a taxi, I noticed a new bus had pulled into the station. The "Futura" line 3 o'clock from Ciudad Obregón. The company's slogan was painted on the side: Bienvenidos a la Futura!

Welcome to the future.

Contact David Holthouse at his online address: david.holthouse@newtimes.com

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