The caravan of heavy, armored diplomatic vehicles tore away from Benito Juárez International Airport, moving in a tight, defensive formation.
Outside the tinted windows, Mexico City was a sea of moving bodies. The main avenues leading away from Terminal 2 had been completely choked by the sheer volume of the public.
Millions of people lined the sidewalks, standing on the hoods of parked cars and crowding the overpasses. The air seemed to vibrate with a chaotic energy as countless smartphones rose simultaneously, their screens illuminating the morning haze as they tried to capture a glimpse of the fleet.
Press vans from every major global network aggressively flanked the convoy, their cameras pressed against the glass, trying desperately to angle a shot inside.
Whenever the traffic slowed for a fraction of a second, reporters lunged toward the moving vehicles, microphones extended like weapons, shouting questions through the reinforced metal hulls.
