Nine Days in Bed, One Day out on my own

I spent nine days alone in my house. I was sick. Perhaps you could call it an incarceration. I would just call it the unfairness of destiny. It was the flu, and not just any flu...The flu. My throat and nose were clogged like three public toilets; my entire head stuck in that stance that you get in right before you sneeze. My chest was on fire, and so were my ears. Nine days of this. On the first day I was going into the sickness with my head held high, determined to make it through like a gentleman who hadn't yet lost his dignity. Day three, I'm in the shower for thirty minutes, bashing the wall with my feeble fists, pleading to God to take this terrible thing off of me; why me...why me? Day five, I learn to live with it and start on a little homework. Day seven, I decide I am quite literate and finish Blue Like Jazz. I am thus encouraged by said book and continue on in this sickening state with a happier perspective. Day eight, I surprise myself, the walls of my confinement, and my dog, by actually singing a few stifled notes from Somewhere Over the Rainbow. My voice is coming back. Day nine, today, I actually get dressed (for eight days, my attire had been that of pajamas and a bath robe) and go to Starbucks and spend an hour and a half doing more homework (I have so much homework to make up...). There were some girls that kept staring at me. I didn't mind. They were cute... but they can't have me.
From there I decide to go to the mall. I can drive now, so the world is at my disposal. If I want to go to the mall, I go to the mall.
"I'm so mature and grown up and independent," I think to myself as I hand the one hundred pesos to the gas pump guy at Pemex. They weren't really my one hundred pesos; they were my parents'. They gave me the money... you know, for gas. I don't pay for my own gas. That would be stupid. But I'm still very mature and grown up and independent, even if my parents do pay for my gas.
The mall is filled to the brim with bustling mexican people. Some of them are here with their families, others with their soul mates, and others simply by themselves. I'm one of those.
It was a beautiful feeling, standing in such a crowded space, feeling people around me again. After spending eight days alone, you start missing people. A man's not meant to be alone. People are supposed to interact with people, even if it's just a brush of the shoulder or a passing smile. It's just the way we work.
I was hungry, so I did what I always do when I'm hungry in Mexico. I buy a burrito. There are burrito stands all over the place in Mexico. I think it's a Mexican law or something. The government makes sure that its citizens gets a sufficient burrito intake. I think this is a good idea.
I went to the nearest burrito stand and ordered one. I also got a coke in a can. It was expensive, but i dont think there's anything quite like cold Mexican coke in a can. Or maybe it's a can of coke. Either way, it's delicious.
There was nowhere to sit, so i contemplated sitting on the ground next to a wall. But the wall was facing the entire congregation of people, and I wasn't sure if I wanted everyone staring at me as I dribbled Mexican burrito extras all over myself. I'm a very messy eater.
I do it anyway and decide not to feel foolish.
A family walked by me as I sat there. The kids stared. I guess nobody had taught them yet that staring is bad. I waved the peace sign and smiled. The parents frowned at me. They don't like peace.
I finish my burrito and look around. It's still light outside, which is weird, because usually I went to the mall at night with my friends to watch movies and wink at girls.
I miss my friends very much. Most of them are gone now, and I think part of the reason that I went to the mall today was to remember them. We had fun at the mall. We had real fun.

I get up from my spot on the ground and start walking. I'm right next to a huge McDonald's sign that stretches across a wall to my right. I remember this sign. One time me and four other guys took turns putting our faces right where the L was in McDonald's, thus creating McDonads. We took pictures. It was very funny at the time. I still laugh at it.

I chuckle to myself as I touch the L with my fingers as I walk past.

Time changes things. And I think it always will. We're not supposed to stay the same; we're made to change as time changes. We get older. Get fatter. Grow beards and shave them off. Make friends and say goodbye to them. It's just the way life works. Sometimes I wish it didn't. This is why I love the holidays so much, because everyone from the states come down and we all go to the mall and put our faces in front of the L in McDonalds and laugh at it, and everything becomes normal, the way things are supposed to be.

All of this runs through my head as I make my way back to the car. It's getting late, and I'm not supposed to be out after dark. But really, I still am very mature and grown up and independent, even if I do have a curfew.