The Frogger

At 4:30 every afternoon the local street food stands wrap up business for the day. They seem to know people's tastes change from their grilled sausages and tacos to atol and bread. At this time, one stand in particular always sticks out. A young boy of about 15 years mans a grill shaped like a Pepsi Cola can. He spends the entire day talking with the other vendors, cooking meat for tacos, and standing slouched over by his Pepsi grill.

When 4:00 rolls around, he takes down his grill's awning, packs his products inside the can, and begins to valiently push the heavy cart up Vista Hermosa Boulevard to the nearest crossing. Vista Hermosa constantly has traffic on it. Normally this can be bumper to bumper and backed up several kilometers from Pais, where the taco boy has his stand. To get across the street, the boy has to strategically plan the crossing so he can get enough momentum to push the grill uphill and across the first lanes of traffic. Every afternoon, walking back from my excursions out of the house, I stand on the pedestrian overpass and watch as he pushes the cart just barely into the intersection, braces his legs, and waits to propel the grill across the intersection.

From this verticle view, I have a clear view of the complicated game the taco boy is playing. It brings to mind Seinfeld's Frogger episode, where George buys a Frogger machine with his top score on it and has to cross one of NYC's avenues to save his score. He darts across the street like a frog leaping across a street in the video game. Resolutely cheerful arcade music plays as he pushes, pulls, and propells his Frogger machine across the avenue. Just as he reaches the other side, he can't get the top-heavy machine over the curve and it gets smashed by a semi, loosing his top score and destroying the beloved and expensive arcade game.

Taco boy reminds me of George as he darts through the traffic to reach the other side. Every second he calculates his odds at crossing the 5 lanes (made 6-8 by crazy Guatemalan drivers) of peril with his only livelihood in tow. I sit in suspense, the Postal Service's arcade-like music pulsing in my head, wondering, "WILL HE MAKE IT!???" It's a gamble, an exciting moment as he shoves the grill across the street, narrowly colliding with a motorcycle, and makes it to the meridian.

Now comes the more complicated side of the Boulevard. Can he cross the three, heavily trafficked lanes to reach 19 calle?? Can he do it!? He waits for the break in traffic. He stands, poised, to push that cart into the lanes of cars. A red bus thunders by spewing him with thick, cancerous smoke. A car weaves past honking manically as he tries to venture into the on-coming traffic. The Vesuvio Pizzaria motorcycle with its chimney shaped delivery basket zips along the road. How will the taco boy make it? But yes, just like Frogger, he sees a break, pushes the grill into the street, darts around on-coming Mercedes, Volvos, and beat-up Dodges until he makes it, just barely missing another Red Number 1 bus, to the safety of 19 Calle. He made it! High score goes, yet again, to the taco boy!