"The test
of a man or woman's breeding
is how they behave in a quarrel"
It was the
Millenium; time to party. And partying I was, having developed
a case of what psychiatrists call hypomania,* un estado de
anima appropriate for the biggest Party of the Century.
BirdWoman came to join in the fun, but
she arrived sick. Dr.
Grayeb wasn't in his consultoria, so for a waiting
room we entered a bar around the corner. I had never been in the
establishment called JJ's; it being frequented by alcoholic gringos.
Sitting at
a table with BirdWoman
and The
Glassblower, we were soon approached by a horde of small street
urchins selling chiclets. They surrounded us like a smarm of bees
and it took some time to shoo them away.
Later that
night BirdWoman
realized she'd lost her wallet. "$500.00, all my spending
money for the week, my earrings, and the only photo I had of my
dead Dad."
A recounting
of events, BirdWoman even remembering the feel of a hand sliding
down into her purse led to the inevitable conclusions
So I went back
to JJ's, and found Mike,a guy I'd met once before -- he used to
sell TV satallites...turns out he is part owner of the joint.
"Mike,
you know, when you operate a public place, you gotta provide security
for your customers. Those little gang members took off with my
friend's wallet containing '$500.00, all her spending money for
the week, expensive earrings, and the only photo she had of my
Dad.' I am wondering if you could at least buy her a new wallet
from Mario's Leather Shop right across the street?"
"Go
FUCK YOURSELF."
Musing on the
curious ways some people conducted public relations in their business,
I took things no further, not wanting to spoil the fun of the
millenium.
But curiously,
or maybe karmically, the morning before BirdWoman was supposed
to go home, I encountered a tense, almost crying young Japanese
lady in the centro while doing my errands. "I had
money stolen from my room at Hotel X," she sniffed.
"And the manager doesn't seem want to help me."
"That's
about the first time I've heard such a story," I told her,
not that it would make her feel any better. "Cause when the
help steals, it affects the hotel business, and besides, most
people are so grateful to have a job they'd rather suffer injustice
on the job rather than risk their income. But you have a immediate
recourse. Take a taxi to the Ministerio Publico de Tourismo.
That's a District Attorney who attends to tourist problems. You
will have to sign a document, and then he will go handle your
affair right away. You'll be amazed at the results."
Encouraged,
she went off, leaving me to make a decision about BirdWoman's
loss. If we didn't levantar un acta today, when the Plaintiff
was physically present to sign, nothing could ever happen.
So I returned
to JJ's. This time the other owner, who looked very large, even
larger than Mike, and just as uncouth, was found on the phone
at the caja. I handed him my business card and mouthed:
"I need to talk to you as soon as possible."
He answered,
"I'm talking to Europe," continuing to do for about
fifteen minutes. After finally hanging up, he immediately went
behind the bar and vanished up some circular stairs.
Annoyed, and
even more annoyed when he did not return because I realized he
was disrespecting me. Finally I went up to one of the waitors.
"Please tell your boss that if he doesn't come down here
in five minutes, I'm going to TAKE OFF MY CLOTHES."
I was already
dancing. I had been dancing pretty non stop since my arrival in
Zihuatanejo, and I was garbed in a short Danskin unitard. So when
no one attended upon my request, I had no compunctions about disrobing
further at 10AM. There was no one in the establishment anyway
But even dancing naked didn't bring the proprietors down those
stairs. "TELL YOUR JEFE if he doesn't come down here,
I'm going UP THERE!"
Lack of results
found me mounting the stairs, where I emerged into a office filled
with people all aghast. "Hey, Mike, JJ, this is the last
time I'm going to ask politely, before I go to Ministerio Publico,
which I'd rather not do, if you would replace my friend's wallet,
and start instituting --"
"This
is extortion!
GO FUCK YOURSELF!"
I heard once more.
Donning my
clothes, I handed a twenty dollar bill to the frighened mesero.
"Mil discuples por 'el disorden,'" I said, and started
home on my bike. Two blocks later I ran into two traffic cops,
who placed their hands on me. "The camioneta (Zihatanejo's
police wagon is a pickup with a bunch of guys with large guns.)is coming for you, you're being arrested," the guys said.
Believe it
or not, it didn't occur to me that some gringos would try and
have me arrested for pulling off my clothes. I was sure my impending
arrest was because my archenemy Armando Frederico,
Armando Frederico
Persona
Non Grata en Zihuatanejo
or worse, Ruben
Figueroa, an ex Govenor and mafioso, both of whom I was suing,
and either of which was supposed to have made me disappear years
ago already.
"Oye,
por favas, everybody knows I have serious enemies....Please let
me try to get inside my house," (A warrant would then be
necessary ) I begged them. And off I went, with Rocky
and Lala
hanging on for dear life as I pedaled my ancient ten speed down
the bumpy road. And there the cop wagon was! Coming the other
way, separated by the median. It wasn't till I was in front of
Club Madera that they caught up with me; grabbing me, the bike
flying, the birds flying, my maid Betty emerging from my door
in response to my cry: "Betty, ayudame, Comunica con Ruperto!"
I can assure you this is a moment Betty had anticipated for years.
"Tranquilo,
Senora,"
said the policemen with grins. "No pasa nada."
Indeed, it became to feel comical with the birds in the back of
the pickup, and me between two joking officers, indicting myself
by telling them the story, which had them in stiches. "What's
the penalty for public nudity?" I asked. "Oh, x number
of days at minimum salary," they said, mentioning a figure
that wouldn't even cover a meal at JJ's.
"Hey,
look at those pendejos!" I couldn't help but observe, when
a humongous Sububuran pulled out behind us, with the two humongous
plantiffs visible behind their tinted glass. Somehow it didn't
seem fair, two huge guys against little 'ol me, but then how about
David and Goliath?
Arriving at
the Academia (Police Station) I entered the cool lobby,
escorted by
my escorts, and followed by Mike and JJ. Mike approached, and
hissed in my ear:
"These
guys are my familiares (family members. You're screwed.")
"Mike,
just watch, you are about to see justice in action," I threatened
back.
"Gentlemen
first!" I said, pointing the way to the Chief's office. "But
wait! YOU two aren't gentlemen..." and I flounced my way
into the office, taking the pro-ffered chair, facing three Mexican
officials: the police chief, a District Attorney, and one unknown
official. Jj and Mike stood on either side of me.
"What
is the complaint, Senores?" quieried the Police Chief, as
if he hadn't already be apprised of my little delito.
"Public
disorden and extortion," were the accusations against me.
"Senora,
what say you?"
I launched
into a five minute pitch that would have won the approbation of
a Hollywood producer. In perfect Spanish (or so I, in my delusional
state, thought ) I explained my Mission in Zihuatanejo. "But
the problem here, Jefe, is that when these little thieves commit
crimes in public places where gringos go, then the tourist doesn't
want to come back to Zihuatanejo. That's what I'm trying to tell
these gentlemen, but
they told me to go fuck myself"
(In this part
of the world a grosera, cussing out a lady, is a high offense.)
The atmosphere
in the room grew chilly. "JUST WHAT YOU WOULD LIKE OF THE
SENORA?" The police chief asked JJ.
"I don't
want her ever coming into my business again," muttered JJ.
"No te
precupes. La unica personas quien van a entra a tu negocio serian
mi abogado para proceder un jucio por libelo, (I mean really,
he'd slandered me in front of three official witnesses!) y el
Ministerio Publico sobre el asunto del robo." ("Oh,
don't worry. The only people who are going to come into your business
will be my lawyer to sue you for defamation of my character
(The fool had defamed me in front of three perfect expert witnesses!)
-- and the District Attorney of Tourism for the robbery."
And seeing
myself dismissed, I started to arise from my seat, but the police
chief had one other question:
"Senora,
DID YOU REALLY TAKE OFF YOUR CLOTHES IN A PUBLIC PLACE?"
"Me, starting
to pull down the strap of the dance costume I was still wearing:
Armando Frederico
