This is Independance Weekend in my hot and bizarre latitudes. I'm off work till Wednesday, and that of course is breaking my heart. No, not really.

This is a very special time of the year for me. It has nothing to do with my country's celebrations, either.

This weekend two years ago, I celebrated my own Independance. It was the day I finally, after much arguing and blackmailing and heartache and suffering, I packed my scarce stuff into a van and moved out of my parents' house.

I told my mom about the move on Sept. 11th, as we were both watching the TV, contemplating how the Twin Towers, which neither of us ever visited, crumbled again and again. As we watched all those terrible shots of people jumping out the windows in the highest floors and seemed to fall forever.

The next two days featured a spectrum of situations. From the 'Go then, but don't ever come back' situation, to the 'I will not have my daughter living with a man she isn't married with', to 'Go then, but you'll be back in a year pregnant, see if you don't', and finally to, 'Go then, and we'll support you, but mark my words: You'll beg to come back.'

Well, that day hasn't arrived yet. I have been without gas for months, we once spent a month without electricity, telephone is a seldom luxury, sometimes we even have been hungry, and I still haven't gone back, nor have I ever felt the need of going back.

The closest I ever came to doing that, was the very day of my move, in fact. A good friend of mine had helped me move and then we got pretty hammered. As a way of celebrating, say. He left at about 4 a.m., and I went out with him to say goodbye and thank you. Then, when I tried to get back in the apartment, I found I had forgotten the keys. So I was locked out at 4 o'clock in the morning on a saturday night which also happened to be a national holiday. I did not have either money of my cell-phone with me.

I sat on the outer step trying hard to think what to do next. I couldn't wait for Will, my roommate, because he was out drinking and he probably would be out till the afternoon after. And I couldn't call anyone because I didn't have a single coin. I figured I could take a cab to someone's place and hope I wouldn't die in the process (taxi + late evening + mexico city + girl on her own = almost certain death), and then have that someone pay the cab and let me stay over.

The problem was, probably no one I'd trust to go over to would be home. It was a national party, let's remember. Or at least, I wasn't certain they would be home when I got there. The only place where I was sure I could find someone in was my parents', and I pictured how horrible it would be if I arrived at 5 o'clock in the morning in a cab and told my mother I had locked myself out on my very first day as a truly emancipated female.

So I ended up taking a cab to my friend's place, the one I'd been with till half an hour before. The cabbie was very nice, he loaned me money to buy a telephone card and call my friend, and then took me there. Tony called Will, my roommate, and told him the situation. I ended up meeting Will at our place at 6 o'clock in the morning, when the first lights began to show.

I'm drinking a beer right now. Drink with me, this is a special time.

Cheers.