There I stood, snarling street dogs surrounding me, and nothing in my hands but a Lonely Planet. 'Such a help you are to me now' I remember thinking, as I looked down at the travel-scarred manual to Mexico. Truth is it had served me well, but mainly as an excuse to behave like a tourist and have something to talk about when meeting other tourists. There's something about the world's most popular series of travel guides which sparks the flame of tourist-to-tourist conversation in even the most weathered travelers.
A sudden movement of one of the dogs brings me back to reality. I try frantically to remember the tips for dealing with stray dogs the travel doctor gave me, the teachings of Cesár the Discovery Channel dog trainer, or the birthday party conversations with my aunt who is a certified dog trainer. Yet all I can think of, while the dogs slowly close in, is that one hauting question which the doctor's assistent asked me when I was getting my shots: 'Do you want the rabies shot?'
Being a healthy guy and an incredible cheapskate, of course I said 'no'. All it would do is prolong the onset of rabies with some time. Yet now, surrounded by a hunt of baying and growling dogs with foam on the jaw, wondering how near the closest hospital is, I am beginning to regret my decision. I can't help but think that like Supertramp in 'Into the wild', I may have found my Alaska in the Mexican territories.
With a sigh and a last glance at the travel guide in my hand, I let out a primal scream, and jump forward. The travel guide, launched in a fluent motion that I find somewhat surprising, strikes the biggest of the dogs right on the nose. The adrenaline rush is intense, and begins to recede as I see the pack of dogs turn to leave. Seeing starts and hearing something that sounds like static, I faint from exhaustion. The last thing to go through my mind before I lose consciousness is a bewildered sense of awesomeness at my scream beating the travel doctors' advice.
Some time later, I come to to see my good Mexican friend María José staring at me. As I regain composure, I begin to tell her about everything that happened. My pace steadily increases, until I am telling her about my grand, powerful ur-scream with eyes shining of excitement. She looks at me quizically, raises one eyebrow, and says, as she raises a still smoking shot-gun: 'Don't worry, I won't tell a soul why the dogs really ran. But I told you, when you travel around Mexico with me, you don't need a rabies shot'.
