did I call that or what?

So as I anticipated, my Mom lost her shit when I told her about the Mexico trip. It started with the dramatic "OH MY GOD" and went downhill from there. After 5 minutes I accidentally started laughing because, although the paranoia behind her statements was very sobering, the one-liners she was delivering were amazing. After 10 minutes, I opened a Word document and started typing. To prove to you that I wasn't kidding when I defined the dying swan act that would ensue, I've categorized her commentary based on the categories that I put in the anticipatory blog.

Because you can't write stuff this good:

1) Reference to a number of stereotypes and hyperboles. Think us/them dichotomies. 

"It’s Dodge City without gunslingers and dance hall girls—you've got prostitutes, cartels, and thugs."

"You can’t even trust the people at the resorts not to come steal your shit."

"Don’t drink the water. If you don’t hear the cap go PSSH when you open it, someone’s already fucked with it."

"The streets aren’t going to be marked – you’re going to be like 'I’m at the corner of Colostomy and Rectum, outside Hotel Terminado' where when the people in the room above you flush their toilet and shit comes out your sink."

2) An assumption that I can't defend myself for shit. 

"Don’t wear anything nice, go to the Salvation Army before you go and buy your clothes there. I’m talking hobo. Don’t even take a nice purse. Take something you fully expect to have ripped off your shoulder."

"You need to plan an escape route, how are you going to get home if something horrible happens?"

"You make sure it’s you and 2 huge ape-sized men when you take a cab—or 2 women that are smaller than you so you can run like hell. You just have to faster than 1 woman."

3) An assumption that I will run from the group at the first chance I have, and then will be kidnapped and die.

"So basically you’re telling me you won’t here for your birthday because you’ll be in Mexico hiding from kidnappers."

"Oh my God, you might also give me power of attorney in case I need to send ransom money."

"I don’t want it to be called St. Laurie’s because I own it at the expense of my dead daughter."

"I don’t think any of those school releases are gonna hold up if something happens to you down there. They’ll try to blame you, but I’ll know."

"Oh my god, I need a copy of your passport. You'll probably be held captive by some swarthy, mustache-ed cartel member who decided he wanted a blonde wife."

"Mother knows Laura Bush, who doesn’t have a lot of clout but might know some people in the government who know a recovery specialist."

4) A last-ditch effort, usually correlating Mexico to imminent death. My mother's imminent death.

"I suggest you watch the movie Breakout before you go. Seriously, I’m serious. I’m very serious."

"Now I’m going to go in and get my blood pressure dosage upped."

"Maybe I can find a doctor to give me Deprovan so I can sleep through it for 6 days."

I do think she has a real fear of the unknown, and it doesn't help that a bunch of kids were just killed in Juarez, but I think most of her hemming and hawing is for dramatic effect. I mean come on, the woman writes novels! Incidentally, when I first called her and asked her what she was doing, she said "writing stories about Mexico." 

Which then she brought full circle when the light bulb went off and she said, "Oh my God, this is life imitating art." My mother, the xenophobic philosopher.