|
Mazatlan 1A was not for the faint at heart. It was a seven-day spring break blowout that attracted anywhere from 500 to 700 college students. Although the program was our best seller, it operated with the smoothness of a frat house fire drill. The trip was dirt-cheap and brutally basic. The “Hell-Train,” as the students affectionately called it, was our principle mode of transportation.
It was our last night in Mazatlan, Mexico and the students were rallying at the train station for the return back to California. I was in charge of taking care of last minute problems and boarding issues. But tonight was overload to the max. Everything was going wrong. People were coming at me with more problems than I could handle. On top of that - I had to pee.
I made a beeline for the terminal bathrooms. A scruffy man blocked my entrance and put out his hand.
“Mil pesos,” he grunted.
I rolled my eyes at the thought of paying a thousand pesos to use the grimy Mazatlan train station bathroom. I turned and walked away. The train was now approaching the station. Students were scattered everywhere. Crunch time had arrived.
About the same time, Flaco showed up.
Flaco was a lanky kid about 13 years old. Dirty, shoeless, but always smiling, the boy would help us load luggage in exchange for a tip. Flaco was one of Mexico’s destitute children. A train yard orphan. Unfortunately, he was also mute. To communicate, he would grunt, smile, or attempt to gesture and whistle.
The timing was uncanny. Just as everyone seemed to want a piece of me, Flaco decided to join in. With the rumble of the train now filling the station, Flaco, in uncustomary aggressiveness, grabbed my hand. I couldn’t believe it. It was not like Flaco to beg for money, but here he was bugging me for a tip in advance.
“No tengo dinero!” I hollered. “I don’t have any money!”
Some students were darting for the train, others were mingling with the locals. Still others hadn’t even shown up yet. The place was nuts with chaos. Again, Flaco grabbed my hand, this time with more aggressiveness.
“Vaya hombre, I don’t have any money!” I yelled.
In the confusion, Flaco made a last-ditch effort as he clamped onto my wrist and shoved a cold piece of metal into my open palm. As he did this, he pulled me close. We were now eye-to-eye when a big child-like grin came over his face as if to playfully say, “I won.” He then quickly turned and disappeared into the crowd.
I stood there half dazed, half angry at this kid’s stubborn persistence, when I suddenly remembered the cold piece of metal he shoved into my hand. As I looked down and opened my palm, a flush of emotion came over me.
In my hand was a bright, shiny, one thousand peso coin.
Flaco had seen me turn away from the bathroom. Thinking I had no money, this 13-year-old, shoeless, destitute orphan gave up the equivalent of perhaps a week’s wages so I could use the bathroom.
Flaco’s actions whispered an invaluable secret that night. With all the noise that may be flooding into your life don’t loose sight of the big stuff. The important stuff. The people, passion and personal power that keep you balanced and buoyant.
Tip: Listen to the audio again. But this time, close your eyes and "see" the chaos...it just may represent your life right now. Flaco is simply the little boy of balance knocking at your door. Allow Flaco's balance into your life.
|
