A Curious Afternoon in Tijuana, Meico ((1969)(the whorehouse))
A Curious Afternoon in
Tijuana, Mexico (1969)
At 1:30 p.m., Chick Evens is sitting with a close friend, his amigo, Mick Gunderson, at a common bar, in Tijuana, Mexico, drinking down a heavy, almost syrup like Mexican beer; it is the first time for both of them to be in Mexico, and Chick is exceptionally watchful, his eyes are if not imposing, near to it, everyone can see him, the red head, with sharp blue eyes, ‘…the gringo…’ someone mumbles at the other end of the bar. His dried out, protracted blinking eyes, hurting from the bright sun; he rubs them, as if trying to readjust them in the low lit tavern.
He is with a man he considers his best friend, and who is a friend of his brother’s, whom he is visiting in Montclair, California, and who will be accompanying him back to Minnesota.
During Evens’ time in San Francisco, at the karate dojo, he was considered a top contender for the next belt, the Black Belt, being the most original with his karate style, quick and deadly.
•
They are glad to see one another, it’s been over a year, when Chick moved to San Francisco, at which time, so did his brother and his wife, along with Mick move to Southern California, they are all from the same old neighbourhood back in St. Paul, Minnesota, Cayuga Street.
Thus, their eyes are full of kindness for the most part, both feeling effect of novelty, after the long separation. They finish the beer, relax a bit on the bar stool.
The Mexican bartender, behind the bar, is purring behind that smirk, as his catlike face checks out the redheaded gringo. Check nervously and restlessly senses it, there is not much conversation between Mick and Chick, so Mick suggests,
“Let’s go check out the whores?”
Chick: Sure! (Impatiently.)
(Outside the bar walking around)
Mick: You’d think the whores would be walking about, trying to get customers.
Chick: Look at the man over there (to his right, he points) his cart fell over; he’s picking up his food from the ground, tacos or is that a tamal cart, whatever…!
(They both laugh.)
Mick: sure is hot!
Chick: Over there, look over there (he points to the far left) that girl she’s waving at us (a dark-haired, Mexican girl about nineteen, with a short black skirt on, looking pleasantly at them both)
Mick: Yes, it’s us she’s looking at, let’s see what she cost. (They both walk slowly over to her; it is about two-hundred feet away.)
Mick: No speak Spanish, I hope you speak English?
Chick: How much will it cost for sex?
Girl: Ten-dollars for you señor…
Mick: Sounds like the right price! Ok, where do we do it?
Chick: Me, too!
Girl: Of course, honey! (Chick and Mick both look at each other as if to say: what are we getting ourselves into?)
Girl: You go señor into that room over there and your friend (Mick) he comes with me.
They had walked down an alley, and in the back was four three story brick buildings, and a low, one story wooden structure built up against a wall, with several enclosed rooms, there was out in the front, within this enclosure area, a dirt like empty lot, mysterious to say the least, thought Chick. And they both went into the two separate rooms, individually, and separated from one another.
Just prior to Chick’s entering the green door, to the one room, with only a bed it, which stood in the centre of the room, up against the wall, a chair to one corner of the bed to put his close on, and a skimpy looking rug, for a lone moment, it was a thought, that this was all stimulating, exciting, just the process of doing it, not the sex he thought he was going to get, but the building up to it, the development: there was something breathless about such an unknown moment, like abruptly going up a hill on a rollercoaster, and knowing in a moment you will be going down at a hundred miles per hour.
•
As chick waited in his room, a different girl came in, smiled, said, “Take off your close señor, I’ll be back in a minute.” And then she left, accordingly, he took off his trousers, and his shirt, now standing and waiting for the girl with only his under shorts on and his socks. At this point, he sensed there was more to this than meets the eye. And he would be right. For it was just a matter of minutes between the girl leaving and a knock on the door, and three He-men, Mexicans, with guns came in…
Ten minutes later
There they sat, Mick and Chick, a few blocks away from that so called Green painted wooden whorehouse, telling each other their stories, vowing to each other they’d never do that again (with a tinge of laughter in-between every few syllables).
Both had been robbed by the three armed he-men, but Chick had his money hid in his socks, $300.00 dollars to be exact. And there he stood almost naked with the three gangsters, guns loaded, as they asked, “More money, where is your money?”
He had told them, he only had change, he had paid the girl the ten dollars, and only change left, didn’t need anymore, because he was going back home. Mick on the other had, had $40-dollars left, an that was his contribution.
If there was to be any satisfaction out of this episode, it was that Chick got a measure of superiority on that side of the fence, that he outsmarted the Mexicans, who had ambushed them.
Written at Starbucks, In Lima Peru, 1-22-2009
Tijuana, Mexico (1969)
At 1:30 p.m., Chick Evens is sitting with a close friend, his amigo, Mick Gunderson, at a common bar, in Tijuana, Mexico, drinking down a heavy, almost syrup like Mexican beer; it is the first time for both of them to be in Mexico, and Chick is exceptionally watchful, his eyes are if not imposing, near to it, everyone can see him, the red head, with sharp blue eyes, ‘…the gringo…’ someone mumbles at the other end of the bar. His dried out, protracted blinking eyes, hurting from the bright sun; he rubs them, as if trying to readjust them in the low lit tavern.
He is with a man he considers his best friend, and who is a friend of his brother’s, whom he is visiting in Montclair, California, and who will be accompanying him back to Minnesota.
During Evens’ time in San Francisco, at the karate dojo, he was considered a top contender for the next belt, the Black Belt, being the most original with his karate style, quick and deadly.
•
They are glad to see one another, it’s been over a year, when Chick moved to San Francisco, at which time, so did his brother and his wife, along with Mick move to Southern California, they are all from the same old neighbourhood back in St. Paul, Minnesota, Cayuga Street.
Thus, their eyes are full of kindness for the most part, both feeling effect of novelty, after the long separation. They finish the beer, relax a bit on the bar stool.
The Mexican bartender, behind the bar, is purring behind that smirk, as his catlike face checks out the redheaded gringo. Check nervously and restlessly senses it, there is not much conversation between Mick and Chick, so Mick suggests,
“Let’s go check out the whores?”
Chick: Sure! (Impatiently.)
(Outside the bar walking around)
Mick: You’d think the whores would be walking about, trying to get customers.
Chick: Look at the man over there (to his right, he points) his cart fell over; he’s picking up his food from the ground, tacos or is that a tamal cart, whatever…!
(They both laugh.)
Mick: sure is hot!
Chick: Over there, look over there (he points to the far left) that girl she’s waving at us (a dark-haired, Mexican girl about nineteen, with a short black skirt on, looking pleasantly at them both)
Mick: Yes, it’s us she’s looking at, let’s see what she cost. (They both walk slowly over to her; it is about two-hundred feet away.)
Mick: No speak Spanish, I hope you speak English?
Chick: How much will it cost for sex?
Girl: Ten-dollars for you señor…
Mick: Sounds like the right price! Ok, where do we do it?
Chick: Me, too!
Girl: Of course, honey! (Chick and Mick both look at each other as if to say: what are we getting ourselves into?)
Girl: You go señor into that room over there and your friend (Mick) he comes with me.
They had walked down an alley, and in the back was four three story brick buildings, and a low, one story wooden structure built up against a wall, with several enclosed rooms, there was out in the front, within this enclosure area, a dirt like empty lot, mysterious to say the least, thought Chick. And they both went into the two separate rooms, individually, and separated from one another.
Just prior to Chick’s entering the green door, to the one room, with only a bed it, which stood in the centre of the room, up against the wall, a chair to one corner of the bed to put his close on, and a skimpy looking rug, for a lone moment, it was a thought, that this was all stimulating, exciting, just the process of doing it, not the sex he thought he was going to get, but the building up to it, the development: there was something breathless about such an unknown moment, like abruptly going up a hill on a rollercoaster, and knowing in a moment you will be going down at a hundred miles per hour.
•
As chick waited in his room, a different girl came in, smiled, said, “Take off your close señor, I’ll be back in a minute.” And then she left, accordingly, he took off his trousers, and his shirt, now standing and waiting for the girl with only his under shorts on and his socks. At this point, he sensed there was more to this than meets the eye. And he would be right. For it was just a matter of minutes between the girl leaving and a knock on the door, and three He-men, Mexicans, with guns came in…
Ten minutes later
There they sat, Mick and Chick, a few blocks away from that so called Green painted wooden whorehouse, telling each other their stories, vowing to each other they’d never do that again (with a tinge of laughter in-between every few syllables).
Both had been robbed by the three armed he-men, but Chick had his money hid in his socks, $300.00 dollars to be exact. And there he stood almost naked with the three gangsters, guns loaded, as they asked, “More money, where is your money?”
He had told them, he only had change, he had paid the girl the ten dollars, and only change left, didn’t need anymore, because he was going back home. Mick on the other had, had $40-dollars left, an that was his contribution.
If there was to be any satisfaction out of this episode, it was that Chick got a measure of superiority on that side of the fence, that he outsmarted the Mexicans, who had ambushed them.
Written at Starbucks, In Lima Peru, 1-22-2009
posted by Dennis and Rosa Siluk at 5:45 PM
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