Did my Part.

Warm sunny morning here in Putaville. Don my street clothes snatch up my cigs and hop the belching bus to el centro, ya know what I mean? Ya hear what I'm sayin'? Hit downtown amid mobs of locals shopping eating living. Arrive at Park Tiente Gurrerro - that arboreal cruising ground crawling with fluttering old predators and the boys who love them - searching for long lost and presumably incarcerated Saul. No such luck so I move on.

Stride past gawking sweaty tourist and aloof locals into Plaza Santa Cecilia - roving packs of mariachi and unrelentless army of hawkers that could and do work your last goddamn nerve. I search for Chuck the canuck but to no avail. Pass Hotel Nelson wafting in the smell of cervezas and seared meat when I am approached at the base of the millennium arch by a handsome ghost. My mind whirls in the direction of where do I know this character - so many, so many - thousands of faces pass my minds eye but I can't catalog the fucker.

He seems all smiles and quite familiar with Your Reporter - I just judge him as another sticky fingered rentboy lost in the puzzle. But, no! It is Luis! My cerebral hard drive burns and crackles in the nostalgic memories of this lad from my days at St. Vincent de Paul's. Yusta drink forties with him and other illegals amid garbage heaps huddling in piss drenched doorways of crumbling factories laughing the night away. Ah, yes - I remember him now.

He chitchats and hits me up for ten pesos for a phone call. Snatches the coin and cuts. I meander around the plaza scoping out the hotties - when minutes later Luis returns with a frown that won't quit. He batters my ears with his tale of woe on how a week previous he is toiling in some ranchero up Washington way and is deported by the INS who are very persistent and obviously takes their job seriously. So, poor Luis was booted back to Mexico - and to Tijuana where he - like scores of others stumbling down these cracked trash littered streets - knows not soul one. But me. The phone call he attempted to make was his contact in San Diego - but the asshole ain't answering the phone.

However, I cheer my good buddy up by inviting him to some toothsome enchiladas in which he ate with such voraciousness - not having a decent meal, he claims for a week. I explained that there was a small get together at my beach house that night and if he would like to attend. Got nothin else was the reply.

So, boarded that raggedy ass bus and headed beachward.

Once there was surprised and delighted to find two invited guests already planted on the porch - they being Manuel and Jose - with Chuck already in the kitchen cooking up a storm. Said howdy's and exchanged handshakes then Luis and I repairing to my room for a quick slurp and suck. We lay in the cool darkness of the room afterwards and I am told that he will attempt the boarder jump manana by way of Nogales, Arizona and Mexico respectfully.

"Stay the night here, then. Get a good night's rest." I suggest and we fall into a couple of hours sleep. Awaken by vicious knocks on my door and there is Eduardo and Gonzalo wondering when we are going to eat - both holding a case of cold cerveza Sol.

Much chatting and laughing and drinking on the back patio with present guests after the arrival of Abel and Saul - Saul was horded up in some hotel recovering from previous night of debauchery - and that Saul is one hella kisser. Later, the gang with Chuck and I, devoured the banquet prepared and then sat in the living room on big overstuffed couches and shot the shit picking teeth and guzzling more beer listening to Mexican top 40 on the radio.

Night crawls into morning and slowly the boys dwindle until it is just Luis and I. Round five, Luis showers and we part on the corner after hailed taxi. As I pass Luis a two hundred peso note, I wish him good luck jesting that I never want to see him in Mexico again.

Hungover, trudge the block back to my house and crash into a needed sleep...