A Mexico!

Ya me voy la distrito federal, or in English, I'm already on my way to Mexico city. After the weird time I had in Harlem, I decided to go back home. I took a day or so of respite, and returned to 1950, this time in Mexico City. I needed to practice my Spanish. On the streets, I ran into a guy named Stan. He seemed relieved to know someone who spoke English. He eventually said he was taking care of his sick friend with dysentery. Alarmed, I went to the house, hoping to help with my 21st Century knowledge of healthcare (albeit I admit I am no doctor). I gave him, Sal, water and a cold compress. He started talking gibberish until he said something an about a man named Dean who he had traveled with. He was mad at him because he abanded Sal in Mexico City to leave for New York. I thought that was a jerk move too, but then Sal seemed to brush it aside saying it was just Dean's nature. I disagreed and told him to tell Dean how he felt. Dean didn't sound like a good friend to me, and after hearing from Sal about the way he treats women, he didn't sound like a good person either. I left Sal after I realized I truly had no medical knowledge and went down to a cantina for a few drinks.