Mil palabras: fin de semana fronteriza

Night out with Oso and friends in Tijuana
At Cantina de los Remedios, Tijuana

Prior to Saturday night, I had never partied in Tijuana. Thanks to Oso, Nathan and his wife, Rosario, that’s all changed. A fairly large group met up for dinner and drinks at la Cantina de los Remedios in Tijuana and then headed over to Tangaloo for dancing. The next morning, Oso and I had a late brunch with HP in Hillcrest. Oso left to work a little later and I visited Old Town San Diego with HP. I got a little sunburnt. Ouch.

Thoughts from the night and trip to San Diego:

  • Any place with a ceiling covered in lotería cards is alright with me.
  • I drank way too much, but that’s what happens when I don’t need to drive.
  • Apparently, Mexicanos can tell the difference between a Chicana or a pocha and a Mexicana without even speaking to her. Rosario’s friend said that Mexicanas are more made up than the girls in the states. In my case, that’s right… but everyone is more made up than me.
  • The fresa boys are attractive, but they all dress the same (and Oso thinks they’re more interested in him than they are in me).
  • Mango margaritas with chile powder — rather than salt — are quite yummy.
  • I’ll dance to techno and reggaetón if I’m drunk enough. True story. So will Oso. He gets down. Hell, everyone in Tangaloo (the club we went to) was getting down.
  • You never know who you’ll bump into at la línea. I heard my name just after we crossed the border and turned to find a friend from LA who was also returning from a night out in Tijuana.
  • Those little seats at windows are not meant for sleeping. Just ask Oso.
  • Oso really needs to get some chanclas/flip flops/sandals. He is breaking the California white guy code by wearing tenís on a hot Sunday in June.
  • Eating a pickle in the presence of Oso and HP will elicit some junior high type jokes.
  • HP scares little old white ladies when he reads the nametags on their hats and says, “How you doing, Dorothy?”

In general, Oso and HP have a point. I really should make more trips to San Diego and Tijuana and Baja California.

Mi hermanito, el valiente

valiente Hey Cindy, I was just calling to let you know that you might want to call Adrian. He’s at home, he doesn’t feel so well.

Why?

He’s sick.

With what?

My dad continued calmly, as he always does in these situations, and prefaced his explanation with one of those “thank God it wasn’t worse statements.”

Last night while Adrian was working at the bowling alley, he was beat up as he tried to help a security guard who was jumped by five or six very drunk men. One other guy, the mechanic on duty, helped out while a woman who worked there called the police. The fight lasted only five minutes according to Adrian, but it was enough for him to be hit on his left ear with brass knuckles.

Adrian and the security guard were both taken via ambulance to a local hospital. A woman at the bowling alley called my dad with Adrian’s cell phone and left a short message that probably added more gray hairs to his head: “there’s been an incident at the bowling alley. Adrian is on his way to the hospital in an ambulance.”

Dad called back to find out the deal and see if Adrian was conscious. He found out that while they were waiting for the ambulance, others at the bowling alley were trying to keep him conscious.

When dad and Danny arrived at the hospital, Adrian as conscious. He spent the night there and left after having his ear sewn up for the lacerations caused by the brass knuckles.

The security guard was hurt as well, but he was released from the hospital before Adrian. He waited around to talk to my dad and express his thanks. He said he had no idea what would have happened to him if Adrian had not taken the risk to help him.

He's still my little brother, even if he is taller than me

I hung up with dad and then left my office. I needed air, to cry without everyone asking what happened, and I wanted to say a little prayer of thanks.

I called Adrian when I returned to the office. He seemed tired and weary. He told me more about what happened and how the cops caught three of the men who attacked them.

Despite having four accident-prone kids, my parents seem to manage. I wonder how they don’t jump every time a phone rings or how they don’t worry themselves sick. Their strong faith means that they put us in God’s hands as we leave the house and face the world. Still, we’re not always so lucky. My parents have received three calls from me about accidents or near-accidents and more from Adrian, Lori and Danny. They rode in the ambulance with both Adrian and Lori as they were taken to emergency room on two separate occasions. And they’ve received calls saying, “Lori was mugged at Wal-Mart, but she’s okay.”

Perhaps we’re blessed.

I love bananas

Oso says he’s going to give me this shirt. I think I deserve it. I’ve eaten three bananas today.

Bananas are the perfect food to eat while you drive to work, but beware of the looks you get from the men in their trucks. I had banana #2 with vanilla ice cream, strawberries and chopped peanuts in the botanical gardens. I wanted to kick myself when I realized how quick the walk is from my office to the botanical gardens. It’s a great place for a lunch break or an ice cream social with the students in the PEERS program. There were left over bananas and I took one with me. I got hungry while I was working and ate banana #3 at my desk.

Me encantan las bananas… but please don’t spell it out.