Ugly American.

Rain comes down hard - so I stand out in the drizzle shivering in someone else's overcoat smoking a Lucky - the computer lab is closed and it is Saturday in this dumpy town and I am broke. So, I am standing there and make with the casual converse with some cat named Lance who feels it is necessary to blurt - I'm gay, by the way - like I fucking care.

So - without further ado we dash around puddles to his house and watch the most godawful porn imaginable - guess he was trying to seduce me - or vice versa - after a long discussion on my life and times in Juarez and Tijuana Lance is enticed into spending the Saturday nite in Juarez. So - a bus is boarded and after we travel to pick up Lance's paycheck - "Don't worry, Luis - you be my guide - and I'll pay for everything. Just don't leave me stranded down there!"

Natch! Clouds burst heavy rain as we ready ourselves and grace with a let up long enough for Lance and I to hump over the International Bridge and slopping through those sad mud streets to the great rain splattered Guadalupe Cathedral. I was stabbed in the stomach with pangs of nostalgia and wanton as we waited for perhaps my old friends to arrive - Alfredo, Ignacio, Enrique - where for art thou? It would have been a pleasure for it hadn't been that Lance was the most yakkity obnoxious faggot I had ever come to meet in many a moon. Shut up awready!

To alleviate this motor mouth - we jet over to Bar Buen Tiempo where nary a friend can be found - so I suggest perhaps Bar Callatias. Slopping through mud - we find sprinkling of said friends - Pablo, Manuel and Lazo. But Lance - fucking pedophile - wants to go where the tweeny boppers are. Ugh. I try to make nice with my old bitches, was actually having a gay old time with Pablo and Manuel - but Lance plays the Ugly American and we just cut so I can save face.

Trod over to Fag Central - Ritz, Olympico, Albatross, Bananas - an assortment of faggoty dancaterias. We sit in one of the swankier ones and we drink many a cerveza sol and Lance gets drunker and drunker and talks more and more and the annoyance level reaches the breaking point. So Captain Pedophile wants an even younger crowd - he slurs - okay, let's hit el Madalon - can't get any younger than that.

Outside the dark clouds have burst and unleashed their torment. Rain pours hard so we jot into Olympico with some obese fairy that has hooked Lance on the street - I have had about enough. When will this goofball pass out? Loud - drunk - obnoxious - goofy. Why did I agree to this?

Luckily we agree to run in the rain to the Ritz next door - my chi was off. I have had it. Told the goofy fuck let's separate and walk around. That was my undoing - asshole took off. Split - left me in the lurch. When the club closed - I stood out in the pouring rain waiting for him to come out and he never did.

Ugh.

So - sloshing through the neon storm back across international boundaries I strode up to Plaza San Jacinto - it being three in the morning and knowing full well the buses in this shitty burg didn't start to run until eight Sunday morning. The only other soul was a ex-con cholo standing under an awning that I new that sold dope in the park - his name was David. Both stuck - we agreed. If we can get a ride, you can crash at my house - the offer platonic you unnerstand. Taking refuge in a Holiday Inn - I called an old friend who dispatched for Yellow Cab and pulling strings gotta free ride to my trap - David in tow.

Once back at my pad - hot cuppa joe was made, porn was put in the DVD - cuz I'm one smooth cat - and David and I warmed each other up. After a pretty smooth make out session we crashed to sleep...

I will never go to Juarez with an American again.