After a long day of doing nothing, I had to unwind.
When I returned home to pay rent, I was stunned from the fact that my landlady had gotten a puppy. What's wrong with that, you shrill? You try being a writer with a screwy dog yip-yip-yipping all fucking day and night. Don't get me wrong, I love dogs. Just as long as they're quiet.
I huffed and grumbled as I handed over the bills to my beaming landlady as the little beast continued to bark out in the back patio which separated our two apartments. (I must confess: Way back in the early days when I lived in Tijuana, my landlady got a puppy for her grandson. The thing was a whine factory barking constantly at its own shadow. Early one morning, I snuck down, opened the front gate and tossed the mongrel out into the street. Later explaining to the sobbing kid that his dog must have ran away. Yeah, I'm going to Hell. I know...I KNOW, OKAY!!) So, as not to form any insidious plots against this new puppy, I took a walk.
I sat in Park Bonito Juarez and watched the rentboys and the pedo-daddies who love them perform their stylized ballet through the springtime arboreal setting. Nope, this wasn't working.
Understand that my apartment is located a few short blocks from Boy's Town - Mexican style. Several gay bars and disco line a three block radius near my humble digs. Easy to get drunk and stumble home. The nearest is a bar called Olympico. As a fact, way back in the day, Olympico was the first bar I had visited being adjacent to the hotel which I was renting a room in on my first arrival to J-town.
Bar Olympico is anything you would expect from a Mexican gay bar. It's unassuming on the outside - a squat adobe structure squeezed in between a ratty hotel and a vacant five story office building. The inside of the cantina is dank and small. A long warped bar with a row of wobbly stools and a line of small booths against the opposite wall. The bartenders, when I entered, were stooped ancient men in wrinkled white shirts and black bow-ties with cigarettes dangling from mustachioed lips. As a fact - and this is why I adore this country so much - there is a huge poster plastered on the wall stating in Spanish NO SMOKING, yet as soon as I sat down, the bartender places my drink and an ashtray in front of me. Take that, you over opinionated fucks stateside who had allowed all of our personal freedom to be stripped away by your unrelenting PC whining!! The pussyfication of a nation.
I must had arrived during the changing of the guard because all the old bartenders left and where swapped out by muscle-bound hunks. My bartender's name was Julio and I tell you, pure eye candy. Massive arms and chest shrink wrapped in a futbol jersey. So, enthralled by his winning personality, I sat and drank and chatted with him until the bar actual began to fill up. The cantina seethed in wrist-flipping, screeching queens who fluttered to and fro cackling at one another's jokes and gay double entandre. I sat and chatted with a few and because of the beer, they was tolerable. However, the original amount of money I had, which was supposed to be used to wash at the laundry mat, had been depleted. I excused myself to Julio and stated that I needed to return home for more cash. I lived nearby, not five minutes away. Zip! I was out the door.
By this time, the alcohol was taking effect and I stumble/dashed down the street to my apartment.
I have never walked this way that late at night and came to the appalling conclusion that there certainly were a lot of male prostitutes about. Every corner displayed some young buck standing with hip cocked, hands in pockets, and that yearning far away look common to your average man whore. Well, no time for homosexual hanky-panky, gotta get home for some more dough.
"Hey! Guero, edonde vas?" (Hey! Where are you going?)
I halted and turned to see two guys standing next to a dented stop sign. Both tall and thin. One had short cropped hair, the other a shaggy mane which cascaded down to his shoulders. Both were dressed in t-shirt, jeans, and sneakers. At first, I thought it was some bum or thief waiting to pounce, but the two stood there with huge smiles on handsome faces.
I croaked that I was going home to get money or something similar, I don't recall I was pretty fucked up. One strode across the street and blatantly asked, "You mind if I come with you?"
"Why would you want to do that?" Yes. I actually asked that. Drunktard.
"I need the money, mostly." He said in the most tantalizing way. That smile! That intoxicating smile! "And you seem like you could use the company."
"What about your friend?" I asked pointing across the street.
"He needs money, too." He smiled that smile. Good looking out there, buddy.
For some cockamamie reason I stated, "Well, why don't you both come along. I'll help you both out. I can't leave your friend here, that would be rude."
They introduced themselves as Edgar and Miguel. Edgar was the more chatty of the two and was twenty-four years old and his friend Miguel was twenty-two. Edgar struck me as a young-looking Benjamin Bratt whereas Miguel was more Mexican Indian in his looks and resembled the actor Diego Luna.
We chatted and laughed as they followed me the two blocks to my house. Inside, I invited them to sit on my ratty couch as I pulled two sodas from the fridge. A brief discussion of rates were agreed on and after a bought of giggling play of getting undressed, we three fell onto the carpet. I sucked off Edgar (He had the biggest cock) as Miguel blew me. We three eventually came, dressed, I handed them each a 200 peso note and, after they shook my hand, the two left.
After that interlude, I reached into my bureau and retrieved more money to drink with. I locked up the shop and jetted back to Bar Olympico. The place was packed! As I sat and drank, I was approached by several callers, they being amazed that I actually lived in Juarez. Phone numbers and facebook addresses were freely interchanged. Met a few festive folks, sung at the bar with an old geezer during a karaoke number (How Deep Is Your Love by the Bee Gees if you're keeping score), sized up penises in the restroom. Overall, I had quite the good time. Doesn't change the fact that I am leaving the end of this month. Will I miss this life of unbounded thrills south of the border? Of course. I can only hope Puerto Rico is at least somewhat the same and not polluted by the US's PC bullshit and self-imposed restrictions.
Around one a.m., I stumbled burracho to my house and crashed akimbo on my couch.
Oh...just in case your wondering, next morning, I went out onto the patio to see the new puppy. ADORABLE!! We are now the best of friends. So as much that I went to a nearby S-mart and bought a doggie bowl and doggie bed for him. See, I do have a heart...