Naturally, picked me up a couple of these beauties---> The picture is courtesy some other blog (hint, google images mexican corn mayonnaise chili), but it's authentic!
The nice cart man had a hard time understanding my English, but I eventually got him to whip me up 2 sticks of corn. I got one with chili and one without (for my niece, who I saw like 20 minutes later).
"¿Como se cuentan?" I asked in a very convincing accent.
He did a double take, eyeing me suspiciously as if to say, "ow come joo deed not speak to meet that way earlier?"
But all he did say was, "Three dolors."
So I started riding back home with 2 plates of corn in my left hand. Saw my neighbor, Frank, across the street standing in front of his house, inspecting the people fixing his roof.
Yelled out, "Hey Frank!"
He didn't hear me.
Tried to ring my bell with my right hand (it's on the left side of my handlebars). My palm was muting it. Turned around and tried again.
Was going too fast... lost control... took a spill... but the corn was safe. My knee, skinned... my ankle... it's gonna be sore tomorrow.
He still didn't hear me.
I limped my bike back to my house, cleaned up & patched my knee, and enjoyed my corn. It was worth it.
And now, a piece of quality film:
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