Trying To Rent A Video

Unlike my deluxe accommodations in Merida, the dump came essentially unfurnished, so I do not have a TV. I am, however, able to watch videos on my old Dell laptop with a 15 inch screen, which I plug into the mini sound system I bought in Merida.

Having watched each of my seven DVDs so many times that they hold no surprise, I went a couple of days ago to the video rental store on the corner and thought I’d rent a video. After confirming with the person staffing the place that the videos produced in the USA are in English with Spanish subtitles I began my perusal. I selected The DeVinci Code and laid it on the counter and pulled out my drivers license which is all that the video store in Merida required. After it was confirmed that I had never rented from the store previously I was informed that I would need a picture ID and “comprobante” of my residence, which is proof in the form of a utility bill. I thanked the attendant and left thinking that perhaps she could of explained the requirements before I began my perusal; but, hey, it’s not like I don’t have plenty of time.

Today I walked a few blocks down to another video store, this time equipped with a copy of an electric bill, thinking I’d be watching an unfamiliar video this evening. This time I was educated enough to ask what was required for me to rent a video. The three very pleasant young folks staffing the place informed me that, in addition to the ID and comprobante, I would need to provide the phone numbers of two references.

So here I am again watching An Evening With the Dixie Chicks, in which the Chicks perform the songs from their, at the time, recently released Home album. Some time ago I gushed here about the show. It truly is a beautiful piece of work and the Kodak Theater is stunningly beautiful. And, as I’ve also previously remarked here, I truly the admire the Chicks for speaking the truth about Bush.

As an aside, I notice in the two Dixie Chicks video I have that the audience is composed overwhelmingly of women, particularly young women, who know the words to all the songs and who grow particularly enthusiastic with the performance of “Good Bye Earl”, during which there is a shot of a guy in the audience who looks really uncomfortable.

I’m sitting here thinking about before I moved to Mexico and was trying, through email and the internet, to find a place to live in Merida. I was put in touch with Sr. Lopez, who ultimately became my landlord, by a very helpful office manager of a Merida realtor, which caters to gringos. I was able to rent my apartment simply by wiring Sr. Lopez the first month’s rent and a security deposit equal to a month’s rent.

Sr. Lopez required no references or anything else to rent his apartment to me sight unseen but here one needs references to rent a video. I’m sure there is a perfectly reasonable explanation for the stores’ requirements but damned I’d like to watch an unfamiliar video.

By the way, the day before I left Merida Sr. Lopez came to the apartment and very meticulously explained how he had arrived at the amount of rent refund he gave me. Additionally, I wanted to show him the lamp that broke when brushed off the nightstand by the wind blown curtain and the two pop rivets “securing” the hinge of the plastic bedroom door that had pulled out. He insisted that he needn’t look at anything, gave me back the entire security deposit, told me that he was sad to see me go, gave me a farewell hug, and told me that if I needed his help for anything to not hesitate to call or send an email message. .

Rarely in my life have I met persons so completely honorable and admirable as I consider Sr. Lopez. I consider myself to have been extremely fortunate in my life and my encounter with Sr. Lopez has reinforced such consideration.

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