The Punkest Kid in the World

Yesterday I decided to go to El Chopo, which is nothing but a street where all the different subculture kids in the city hang out every Saturday. The yuppie social-commentator phrase, “urban tribe” is really appropriate to describe the way subcultures work in Mexico City. Basically there are four groups, with different “tribes” of kids who identify within each ideological/fashion trend. There’s punks, skinheads, emo kids, and these xenophobic neo-nazi goths. The skinheads are essentially just punks with different outfits, and some of the punks are essentially goths without the fascist agenda.

Anyway, El Chopo is where the punks go to get drunk and buy t-shirts, and goths go to stand in the shade and sell black roses to tourists. It was a particularly exciting day because my friends (punks and skins) invited me to go see local anarcho-ska heroes, SEKTA CORE, which is the Mexican equivalent of Spain’s Ska-P. The show was in a park on the south side of the city which meant we had to ride the metrobus for about an hour in each direction.

On the bus, I met the punkest kid in the world. Mohawk, Crass patch, Studs, boots, and the best punk ethic in the world. You’ll see why later. So, at one part of the bus ride, traffic was moving slow because the police had a highway blocked off, and we were passing by them. The punkest kid in the world leaned out the window and yelled at the police something to the effect of “(translated by me) Why don’t you fellas do your jobs instead of wasting everyone’s time, you jackasses?” Well the police here don’t take kindly to talk like that and they stopped the bus. Without missing his cue, the punkest kid in the world threw off his vest and got off the bus, then shoved one of the cops. The other cop waived the driver on to continue and i watched as we left the punkest kid in the world in the distance on the highway behind us at the mercy of those pissed off police.

None of my friends said much about it, and we carried his vest with us to the show. I was shocked, but after being at the show for about ten minutes, the punkest kid in the world came running up to us and explained that the cops were mad that he didn’t have any money so they told him to fuck off and he just got on the next bus.

The show reminded me of a Mexican Warped Tour and almost all the kids I was with snuck chains and spiked weapons in with them. Everyone was really into punching people mid-skank and swinging their chains and starting fights. At least twenty fights broke out during the course of the day, and my friend got stabbed and was taken away by an ambulance. It started to pour rain at the end of the show, as it does everyday, and everybody got soaked and ran for the metrobus.

At the metrobus station, as the forty-or-so punk kids were refilling their metro cards with spare change, the punkest kid in the world amazed me yet again. After he yelled something in Spanish that I didn’t understand, he hopped the turnstyle and the cop on the other side tried to grab him. He pushed the cop onto his ass, flung open the emergency exit, and literally all the kids in the whole station started piling through the door, and hopping the turnstyles. I ran under the turnstyle and looked the cop directly in his eyes as he shuffled back to his feet, but darted into the bus just as the doors closed. The bus drove away and left the disheveled cop standing on the platform behind us.

On the hour-long bus ride the soaking wet punk kids sang songs about revolution and shouted at strangers. At one point a military guy got on the bus and the punkest kid in the world proceeded to harass him and accuse him of being a fascist until he got off at the next stop. As the bus drove away the military guy angrily gave the finger to everyone on the bus, and then everyone, including normal people on the bus, erupted into laughter.

When we got off the bus, the punkest kid in the world showed everyone how to sneak into the metro by going through the turnstyles backwards, and snuck about ten people in that way. That was the second time I had gotten to ride public transportation for free so I was pretty thrilled by his crazy antics. I told him I thought he was brave, but definitely also crazy.

Later in the night, the small group of us that was remaining was hanging out in the Zocalo having fun. A punk girl from Tijuana was practicing juggling, Mohammed was hustling for money by braiding peoples’ hair and I was practicing hand stands. All of the sudden a kid with like five chains around him, and a huge black trenchcoat, white face paint, a red mohawk, and red contact lenses came up to us and stood directly in front of me. My first thought was that this kid probably spends at least three hours a day preparing his outfit and I started racking my brain for the right words to introduce myself. I reached out my hand and barely had time to utter “Hola..” and he threw off his trench coat and tried to attack me. My loyal punk&skinhead friends all jumped in front of me and explained that he was a NEO-NAZI GOTH who was xenophobic and wanted to beat me up for being non-mexican. Oh my god my mind was completely blown by this. I looked up a picture of the kid on the internet which was not hard to find since he’s probably the most stared-at person in the entire country.

I spent the night after that hanging out with my friend from Africa who I would later find out also smokes crack. He took me to a square full of Mariachi bands and other crack heads at two in the morning and then I decided I should just go home before the day got any crazier.