I had grand plans to waltz off the plane and head to a bustling market in the heart of Oaxaca City. Hell, I even had a menu marginally planned out. It didn't work out that way. A missed connection, and general airline ineptitude stranded me in Mexico City. At least I got a meal voucher. So instead of eating at a small counter in a bustling market I ate at some restaurant in an airport. Yay. I orderd a favorite: huevos divorciados, or divroced eggs. It's basically chilaquiles seperating two eggs each with a different sauce. I'm sure it's explained in the prenup.
While I ate my eggs I watched oversexed women gyrate on Mexican music television. It's good to be back.