OPEN POST: Mexican Mariachis, Firebreather and Stephen Seagull

It's a well-known fact in Mexico that Mariachi bands, with their guitars and comically large hats, are often seen as a mischievous bunch. Their territorial disputes, while not to be taken lightly, are a reflection of the larger societal issues at play. These audacious villains, more brazen than any cartel, launch their attacks in broad daylight, often targeting the innocent or, worse, their rivals. This was a lesson a firebreather learned one sunny day in front of the ironically named Taqueria Infierno in Morelia, just west of Mexico City. 

It seemed like the mariachis would get away with violence again, yet they hadn't considered there was something poetic about getting bested in front of a taco place called HELL by a fire-throwing demon, who happened to be a street performer. Early in the altercation, a mariachi was getting the best of the fire thrower, who was initially defenseless, until he remembered his unique talent. Why don't I barbeque this bastard? And like a dragon, the flames came shooting out, and the mariachis could be seen running away in flames. 

Competition for prime busking spots, the most lucrative areas for street performers, can be fierce, as this incident clearly demonstrated. Fortunately, only the fire thrower required medical attention. But then again, this is Mexico, a place where the absurd and the dramatic are woven into the very fabric of our culture. 

They could have learned a thing or four from Steven Seagull, the kingpin of his turf who sits on his throne and decides who he may victimize. He swoops, steals the food out of the tourist's hand, flies back to his throne, and commences to eat. He has no shame or any care who witnesses his criminal activity. Who dares challenge his supremacy? No one that's who, and locals are in the throes of Stockholm Syndrome and accept this behavior and claim to even love him. It's a sad sight, really. A whole town under his iron feather. When a tourist runs back to the pasty shop to complain and get another, they get no sympathy, just another bill for another pasty. When all is considered, he brings in tax revenue and forces demoralized tourists to fork over more cash. 

If the mariachis had Stephens's aura of control and menace, their spot in front of Taco Hell would have been safely theirs. Instead, they failed to size up their enemy and had to find a new corner or sus culos serían barbacoa (their asses would be barbeque). Instantly.