Sitting up top a concrete slab with no guardrails, no signs that OSHA was coming by soon, and no worries about what was going to happen next. Rusted rebar stuck up in the middle of floor in a palm tree fashion, the banos had no doors (but we were assured they were coming tomorrow along with the free beer). The wind danced across my exposed legs and arms with hint of warmth as the Mexican beer did its duty at bargain prices, served with a crooked smile.
The south Texas/Mexico trip was successful on many levels, defrosting these bones from the inhumane weather people up here endure every winter. Today, I promised my co-workers Chinese food from a local joint if the temperature hit above zero by ten o’clock, Al has a better chance of passing a sobriety test at 2am coming from his new local bar then they have in getting some fresh kung po chicken with fried rice and cream cheese wontons. The slight burn across my forehead from golfing without a hat was worth the aloe and stares to feel the sun again without wondering if the onset of hypothermia has begun.
Traveling to and from the Mexican border the landscape shows the poverty and growth of the area. Schools and senior citizen communities are lined with military razor wire fence, trailer parks with pink granny panties and well used t-shirts flapping the wind showed the economic blight of the region. Then the page would turn in the book and illustrations of lush farms, grapefruit trees, and new housing developments showed a beautiful side of the Lone Star state. Willy’s BBQ house gave me a little taste of the famed Texas BBQ yet tasted like Kate Moss on a diet, sweet but lacked thickness. I’m sure if my frozen block of mind was thinking a quick email to The Fat Guy or April would have directed me to a proper slab of bovine.
Mexico was a step backwards in time as my change from the first round of Sol beers and a margarita for my better half showed a ten dollar bill from 1934. Peddlers lined the streets hoping to find a worthy sucker to snap up their knock off Kate Spade purses or Oakley glasses. Luckily the wife spoke a little of the native tongue, as my Spanish doesn’t go past what Big Bird taught me and she saved a few bucks while haggling over the Mexican national soccer team outfit for the little one back home.
Thoroughly sloshed, we headed back to the home base for what would become a four day long Chinese Poker game and turning the knob on the drunk dial from amusing to stupid. A question to profession Chinese Poker players out there… do you play with “bonus points” for big hands like straight flushes, full house in the second hand, trips up top? I must know the answers, as this addicting game has overtaken our usual euchre bitch-fest.
The golf, South Padre Beach, the girls mistaking a roadside strip club for a Don Pablo’s restaurant (yet ignored our pleas to go in and “make sure”) went by too quickly as all good vacations do and I think we found a yearly thaw that doesn’t hurt the wallet as much as Vegas, lets you enjoy the company of your friends, and doesn’t send you back with some monkey rotavirus.
As long as you don’t drink the water and stick to the beer of course.
On a side note... Lindsay Lohan as Marilyn Monroe (thanks to Bayne). I'll need to use this picture sparingly, in case she decides to return to hitting a mound of Columbian powder like a Trekkie seeing Captain James T. Kirk at a Wal-Mart grand opening promotion.
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