By this time I had finished the two beers I was allocated from the six pack and had placed them properly in the garbage containers provided. I had made no show of hiding them and it was plainly visible to the police officers across the street that I was drinking beer. It was also plain to them that I was an American. Juan was still drinking his fourth. The crowd immediately began to disassemble and go their separate ways. We were surprised because usually these events are followed by dancing and a band til the wee hours of the morning. Not in Akil and not in the conservative Yucatan.
We were discussing this phenomenon with Juan when suddenly he was surrounded by six police officers. They wanted to arrest him for drinking in public! Wilbur quickly grabbed the can out of Juan’s hand and tossed it in the garbage. “What beer?” was the next statement out of Wilbur’s mouth. No proof, no offense. After much talking and gesturing, they finally went away. But not before Juan had been properly chastised and told what was what in Akil! I was dumbfounded and very angry that they had waited until they saw me toss my last beer can away before they came across to grab Juan. They never said anything to me and never even looked at me, although B and I were standing right by Juan’s side during the whole confrontation. In fact, he was immediately surrounded by family and friends, all yelling at the police! I expressed my indignation to Juan about them only picking on him. He just shrugged his shoulders and said “You are an American. They would never mess with an American no matter what”. This attitude continues to amaze me. Although we have heard the same thing from several Mexicans since moving here, I would never dare put it to the test and purposely break a law. I still consider myself to cute to be in a Mexican jail and definitely don‘t want to be addressed as Seniorita by some big Jose!
Everybody wanted to go back to Juan’s house and, since there was not enough room for everybody in the cars, Maria decided to take a taxi back. So off we went, back home, no dance and with a sour taste for Akil temporarily in our minds.