Hail the hardworking Mazatlán taxista! Without him, we visitors would have a rough time making it back to the hotel. In this town, it is a prestigious high paying job, relatively speaking, and there are fewer loose nuts behind the wheel than in, say, New York City. Still, many have a certain NYC pushiness, and they will honk and shout at you as you are walking along, just in case you hadn’t realized you need a cab. Don’t mind them, they’re just doing their job. The most famous of the Mazatlán taxi armada is called, of all things, the pulmonia (lung disease, that’s a good name for marketing purposes!). Must have something to do with the frigid tropical breezes. These are the Volkswagen golf carts with no doors, so it’s easier to stumble in and out. Then there are the open air safaris, the only difference between a safari and a pulmonia being that the safari has doors, so that the College Tour scholars won’t fall out so easily. Safari! Now there’s a good appealing name. But nobody uses it, they all say pulmonia. Go figure. Then there are the ecotaxis, or cubiertos, which are sporty little sedans, usually red or green. They are maybe a bit cheaper, and sometimes it’s pleasant to roll up the windows and let the air conditioner do its thing, especially if your date has an elaborate hairdo that would not survive a stiff wind. Then there are the aurigas, those canvas covered pick ups with benches in the back. If your party exceeds the legal limit of four passengers, start looking for an auriga. They are generally willing to venture onto rougher roads and into rougher neighborhoods. Then there is the cushy job of airport taxista (“canario”, or canary, for their yellow paint job). They are only allowed to make the relaxing drive from the airport directly to the luxury hotel or wherever the arriving tourist wants to be dropped off. It is a fixed rate, a little over twenty US dollars, and it is by far the steepest fare you will pay here. Strike your own bargain with any taxista for your return to the airport, but don’t expect it to be much less than the ride in. Personally, I always try to flag down a middle aged or elderly type taxista. I have reached the grouchy old stage where these young hot shots and whippersnappers with their weird hair and loud ugly music really get on my nerves. Give me a slow poke gray haired driver with a quiet radio playing some Mexican music I’ve never heard. Sure, some people want an entertaining chauffeur (or here, chofer) a wisecracking, finger snapping live wire who flirts with the women and turns the bass on his stereo up so high you feel like a drum being pounded on. Of course, if you’re only here for a week or two, why not go for a fun, noisy ride? It’s different, it’s crazy, and after all, you’re on vacation. Don’t worry, I’ve never heard of a bad taxi wreck here (though once a bus ran into a train). All taxistas, young and old, take their jobs pretty seriously, and if they play the clown it’s all part of the show. The last few years, I’ve mainly gone with the same