Tequila Stories
Our last day in Mexico City was intentionally low effort. We had already packed the night before, so we only had to locate the stray socks and chargers that like to hide in hotel rooms. Late morning, we enjoyed a 90-minute massage, which put us in the calm, loose-limbed mood in which absolutely nothing seems urgent — except, apparently, tequila. I mentioned to the concierge that I couldn’t find Jose Cuervo Reserva de la Familia Reposado anywhere nearby. With the competence of someone who has solved this exact problem at least 200 times, she called another shop and confirmed they had it: 1250 pesos (about $68). I handed her 1500 pesos and she dispatched a tequila courier. By checkout, the bottle was bubble-wrapped like a newborn baby and waiting for me. Final trip task: complete. Felt like a victory. The hotel arranged a car to the airport, and we merged into Mexico City traffic — which is like watching a school of fish, except the fish are compact cars and nobody seems parti...