Out On The Beach Sand

I sat at one of the white plastic tables at Manny's Beach Club waiting for my spirit animal to arrive. I wasn't waiting alone. My friend Jake, my younger brother Donaldo, and his friend Boston were also sitting with me.

He didn't show up.

It might have been the chain-link fences that had been added sometime after my last visit, obscuring my view of the sand and the waves and the moon. Maybe that was why. He doesn't like chain-link fences.

Some time later, I was dancing with a couple of girls. One was from Phoenix and one was from Chicago. The drunker of the two pulled me aside, put her mouth against my ear my ear and slurred, "Wanna go fuck?"

"Sure." I replied. "If you can tell me my name."
"Fuck your name!" She hissed.
"Fuck my name?" I echoed, taken aback.
"Fuck everything!" She elaborated.
"Is that your motto, fuck everything?" I asked, amused.
Instead of answering, she bit my shoulder.

That could be another reason my spirit animal didn't show up. He doesn't like girls that might bite him. Personally, I don't mind biting, but I do appreciate a little warning first.

Two Bad Things

Later still, Donaldo, Jake, Boston, and I were back at our sticky white table talking with the three girls we had met. I lit one of the clove cigarettes I had brought with me. "Don't you know those are bad for you?" One of them, (Diana) asked.
"These are clove cigarettes. They're actually worse for you than regular cigarettes." I replied, stifling a cough. I gestured towards the beer in her hand. "That's bad for you, too."

"It's not that bad!" She retorted indignantly.

I shook my head and smiled. "You have no idea."

My spirit animal doesn't like people that have no idea.

Good Clean Fun

The four of us returned to our hotel around three in the morning. The place was about 20 minutes away from Manny's and the rest of my favorite spots, but the room was beautiful and on a much nicer part of the beach.

We all changed into our swimsuits and headed for the water where we frolicked in the moonlight like children until we were almost sober. I was a bit surprised when my spirit animal didn't show up then.

The Next Night

The next night was all about The Pink Cadillac. I danced for hours. It seemed that I was burning off my drinks almost as fast as I could order them. Every one of us was thoroughly enjoying ourselves.

Three o'clock came around, someone shouted "Last call!", we frantically bellied up to the bar, danced a little more, sang along to Bob Marley's "Three Little Birds" ("Don't worry about a thing, 'Cause every little thing gonna be all right". (And I really felt that it was)), then we made our way down the steps that lead to the the street that were far too narrow for a place that caters to a binge-drinking clientele.

Once outside, we did a headcount and realized that Donaldo wasn't with us. He had been last seen making out with a girl in a white bikini with red flowers on it.

Who Needs Pants?

We split up to look for him. I searched the streets and Jake and Boston headed down to check out the beach. I was sitting on the trunk of my car yelling, "Donaldo!" when Jake and Boston walked up. I looked at them expectantly. Jake then held up a shoe and asked, "Is this Donaldo's?"

I thought for a moment before I responded. "What?!" It was indeed his shoe. It had been sitting on the sand with his other shoe, his socks, and a purse. We all walked down to the beach and yelled to him, and he yelled back from somewhere among the rocks.

We waited for about twenty minutes and then I shouted into the darkness that I was leaving. So I did. Boston
stayed behind to wait for Donaldo.

We went back to our hotel and I ate some leftover beans my mom had made. Then, cursing, I got back into the car and drove back to the beach.

I was coming over a large hill, on othe last 30 seconds of the twenty-minute drive, when blue and red lights started dancing in my mirrors. I cursed some more and pulled over. I rolled down my window as one of Mexico's finest walked over. I looked up at him expectantly. "?Are you Guillermo Lopez?" He asked in Spanish.

I thought for a moment before I responded. "?Que?" I looked over, and in the thin watery light that promised sunrise I saw Donaldo and Boston sitting in the back of the policia's car. I made a mental note to do some heavy cursing when I was out of earshot. "Yes," I admitted, "I am Guillermo Lopez."

The guy explained to me that he had found them "walking suspicioulsy" and that he was going to have to take them to jail for two days and they would be fined a hundred and fifty dollars each...Unless...

I drove back to the hotel to get their $50 dollar bribe in furious silence, breaking my earlier vow of profanity.

I scrounged up $33 dollars and gave it to them outside our hotel. I told them it was all I had. They took the money, let Donaldo and Boston out, and puttered off. Then it was back to the beach to find Donaldo's clothes. Oh yeah, he lost his clothes. He hadn't been able to find his clothes after he had flung them out on the rocks and Boston had given him his pants. Donaldo had been walking in just his shoes and Boston's pants, and Boston was in a shirt, shoes, and boxer-briefs. I guess that's what "walking suspiciously" means around Rocky Point. We found the clothes and returned to the hotel. It was almost six in the morning when we opened the door to our room.

My mom greeted us as we slunk in. "Good morning!" She chirped, "Where were you boys?" I was not unprepared for this question, having already concocted an iron-proof alibi.

"We were at the beach."

"Oh, again?" My mom probed.

"Yup." I punctuated my answer by stumbling into a chair as I headed towards my room. Before I took my contact lenses out, I looked around one last time for my spirit animal. But he doesn't like half-truths either.

We left that afternoon without further incident.

Well...almost without incident.