Mexico City is not what you expect. If you based your knowledge on American Cinema, you may be surprised that it doesn’t have the orange filter seen in movies like Breaking Bad. You may also be surprised by the quality the city has in terms of luxury, WIFI on the streets and cleanliness that puts European cities to shame.

Of course, this luxury is enjoyed by a small portion, as most of the population is in poverty, 10% high class, and allegedly a non-existent middle class.

This wealthy class is known as Whitesexans (White Mexicans), which is shocking as it implies that the Spanish colonisers did not mix with locals throughout history. Shockingly, it makes you think that the wealth was retained and maintained exclusively by the white community.

When first roaming the city’s restaurants and nightlife, we assumed that there were more foreigners than we expected, only to find out that many of them were calling themselves, rather proudly, Whitesexans. Thus we began a game called: “Are they foreigners or Whitesexans?”

But my perception of Whitesexans, as well as the nightlife of Mexico, was completely altered by this one experience.

Our accidental undercover experience.

Phase 1: The First Encounter

One night, we ventured to a famous rooftop in Mexico City, a change from our usual backpacker-budget activities. It was one of those places with an unclear entrance, accessed through a back door of the building to get the elevator after the security guy finds you eligible. 

According to Google, the place was said to close at midnight, and as we arrived at 11:00 pm we expected it would be easy to seat two girls even without reservations.

That was not the case, as we had to negotiate our way to a table with a view. It turned out that the waiter did not lie when he said that the table was reserved, and just when we were about to give it up, the guys waiting to be seated kindly asked for us to stay insisting that there was enough room.

The gents in question: Whitesexans, ranging from brunets to blonds. Apparently, we were interrupting a guys’ reunion night, as one was coming back from Australia, the other from LA, and the rest in Mexico City.

As gracious hosts to the two foreign girls visiting their country, they extended an invitation to show us the “authentic” Mexican nightlife.

It was a yes from us.

Phase 2: Our VIP Experience (their usual Thursday night)

We exited the building to find an armoured car waiting outside for us. The guys took the three range of bottles they were drinking at the bar, in which some contained scorpions in them, straight into the car.

We were driven to a club in Polanco – a neighbourhood dubbed the Beverly Hills of Mexico City – where we, as girls, were very underdressed for the occasion.

The entrance looked like a well-lit garage that led to an intimate club with VIP tables encircling the whole room rather than in one corner. We quickly learnt that the layout was deliberate to welcome guests who purchase bottles instead of glasses. And that should have been our first hint to the type of guest list; regular faces all from the same bubble.

The guys with us naturally mirrored the rest of the crowd, ordering bottles and passing credit cards.

Phase 3: The Big Boss

One man in the midst of the crowd stood out, casually engaging with the whole crowd as if it was his own hosted house party. It is expected from the general guy to approach a girl by buying her a drink, what is not likely is for him to extend that offer to everyone sitting around her. No entitlement from his side, just his generous norm, or perhaps the norm to spill money faster than liquor.

We only got to talking the second time we crossed paths. As he had more drinks along came the flattery. But as it got late, my friend and I decided to excuse ourselves in which he objected.

“No way two girls like you are leaving at this hour by yourself. Take my driver, he’ll take you safely wherever you need to go.” And after a bit of back and forth, we finally accepted. And on our way out we recognised his importance as the biggest frowny bodyguard moulded his face into the biggest smile waiving him goodbye.

We were led to the car when we got crowded by street vendors, a moment of juxtaposition that flagged a reminder of the huge economic divide.

“FLOWERS!”, he said as he spotted them, and a minute later we were handed the whole lot of flowers that the vendor had that night as he led us finally in our second and final armoured car that night.

Seeing this lifestyle, we naturally had one question that you may by now have wondered too: “What job do you do that allows you this luxury?” He vaguely explained how he manages “companies” around the world from Mexico City to Paris. Yet the type of business that he works in remained confidential.

“Everyone in there, (the club), knows what I do, but I have never said it out loud.” Even after we kept asking curiously, we were not offered the answer. We were offered, however, to accompany him to an after-party nearby, but we decided not to push our luck and call it a night.

We went back home (to our hostel), two Cinderellas after their carriage turned into a pumpkin, back to reality. While it was one of our best nights out, I couldn’t help but wonder how their carriage stayed armoured keeping them in a bubble unaware of what happens outside of it.

While it was easy, as an outsider looking in, to recognise the classist and colourist mindset prevalent in Mexican culture, it is often harder to face that we ourselves aren’t blameless. To judge the rest without acknowledging our own privilege would be unfair, to say the least. The transparent classism and racism in Mexico are nowhere near devoid in Europe or elsewhere. Even the ignorance that we recognised in some (not all) Whitesexans could be seen back home.

It’s all fun and games until the show of kindness and empathy that you see in people reaches its limits once certain issues of class, poverty, or race does not directly effect them. It only makes me think if the real luxury is the luxury of deliberate ignorance.