His Stay in Mexico City Was a Time of Goodwill, Not Crime

Although Dick J. Reavis’ article on Mexico City’s rampant crime was poignant, I was never a victim of crime while working and living there from 1997 to 2000 (“Big City, Huge Problem,” March 14). I initially holed up in U.S.-branded hotels in Zona Rosa and Polanco and had a driver shuttle me to and from the factory where I worked. But then the adventurous side of me took over and I began driving myself through the sprawling metropolis. I was never pulled over by the police and was never the victim of an express kidnapping, though I frequented ATMs quite often.

On one memorable occasion, I visited Tepito, the black market. I parked my minivan a distance away and took a taxi to the market center to buy a television and telephone. Returning to my car, however, I found that both items couldn’t fit in the small trunk of one taxi, so I transferred to another taxi. Soon the first taxi driver caught up to us, honking and waving the telephone, as I had apparently forgotten it in his trunk. I gave him a generous propina, and he has become my patron saint of taxi drivers and a symbol that there’s still goodness in the heart of chilangos.

James Wong

Irvine