June 26, 2009

Michael Jackson and Farrah Fawcett RIP

May they rest in peace. May I not have supernatural powers! Two days before David Carridine died, I was talking about him. Three days ago, in the same continuing conversation, I used Farrah Fawcett and Michael Jackson in an elaborate sociological example, explaining to a Mexican fan what they meant north of the border.
Now both are dead and the Mexican is stunned. "We have to not let you talk about people any more," he said. Perhaps. Or I should talk about a few more people!
Like the ladron who took my bicycle, from the patio, around 4am or so. When I got up, it was missing. Since Mexican friend had to go get his motorcycle from the impound lot, I thought he was gone. He got up around noon when Carmen arrived and asked, "Where is the bicycle?" I thought you had it!
Carmen quickly named her top suspect. She went out and came back to announce he is already in jail for theft. This is the last English speaking Mexican who worked for Jim Morgan, one Carmen said not to allow on the property. He cases joints and then...well, maybe that's how El Grand Escape next to Casa Morgan came to be robbed with el muchacho being in carcel. Or maybe he's in for another burglary in the area.
Next suspect, one Bruno. My buddy went over there and Bruno is out of town, but his neighbor suggested where the bicycle could be found. We later gave the guy 200 pesos for a good lead.
In the meantime, a police cruiser drove by and we flagged it down, making a report. Soon buddy came back in the golf cart with the bike.
It was in the bright green house in Colonia Guadalupana, the squatters' village. The men smelled of booze and sweat, he said, as if they had not bathed in weeks. He was a cop in his 20s and he "cop slapped" the guy, upside the ears on each side and left him stunned.
When he returned, Carmen said a garden rake was missing, as were the two sweet peppers ready to pick. Off he went again!
As soon as they saw him coming, they ran! No rake. Oh well. So I talked to the girls about remembering to lock the padlock on the gate as they come and go. Yes, I know it feels safe and usually is. But nosy neighborhood watch is only so vigilant!
Buddy went to Centro on some other business and the cops weree watching my golf cart. No really, I have permission. You know I am doing work for her. Still, he felt like a suspect!
Then, being hot and tired, I opted not to go to Poc Na to see Sergio the guitar marvel play. My friend chaperoned them. Yeah, without curfew. I was finishing up some internet business at 3am and they weren't back yet. Today's Discover Scuba Day may not happen! But a chauffer's test will be taken at all costs!
Funny how life is. My bike was stolen the day the idols died. I will never forget that.

1 comment:

Islagringo said...

Happy you got your bike back! But how on Earth did you ever get a cop to do anything for you? What is your secret???? Oh yeah, please never say my name out loud! LOL! (but I can give you a list of other names to chant!)