By: John Ross
December 12, 2006

San Francisco

A funny thing happened to me on the way to Mel Gibson's Mayan Apocalypse. Awaiting the 49 bus at Mission and 24th, the BART plaza suddenly erupted in down-home Meso-American aboriginal ritual as a troupe of neo-Aztec "concheros" began to stomp and whirl to the heart-thumping whomp of the drummers, dancing their juju and offering fragrant copal to soothe the four corners of the universe.