Some crazy night ( Part I
Living in the late 80 ´s in San Francisco was an amazing time for me. A twentysomething Spaniard eager to conquer the world….
…I was on these periods of time…no ties...no responsabilities... happy and careless. Working in restaurants allowed me to travel a lot. European education…good looks…and a natural sympathy (As I don’t have a grandmother…I love myself more than enough…no need to be modest…) made me earn a lot of money on tips. …So my only worries at that time, were paying the rent …Blues music and women….
Blues music …Women…Men ¡¡¡…S F had plenty of those….Women…strange creatures that can make you feel Superman one day…and next day the “donkey” you really are…
But living in S Fco and being hetero was a good thing too. …No…don’t take me wrong….I have friends that are gays. And working in restaurants sometimes I was the only non-gay waiter. But to me that was an advantage.
Well…I was sort of a hummingbird. From one flower to another….you get me…was good…fun times…and there was the salsa music. Never been ever a better music and dancing to seduce a woman than Salsa. (Latin music). At least to me.
Well...I was going from one girl to another...feeling a Casanova…no relationship lasting more than weeks. In fact ...the moment that girl started bringing to my apartment the clothes she was about to wear next day. Then I started feeling trapped… Oh...come on…I was twenty some …the late 80 ´s …you know…
But one day the hummingbird met this “viewtiful “girl.
Filipino princess of beauty. Boy...she was gorgeous…and sexy. And she called me “papi”…you know …in those “sexy“ moments. And that made me feel I was something...special.
!!! Papito ¡¡¡.
Also she was getting the divorce. When I’d met her…and asked the “sentence”…so you…dating someone?...
…She did answered. Lowering the eyelids the way only women knows how to do. ” Well …it’s complicated…” Oh... I used to love those words….” Complicated”…meaning she has a “someone” and even she is sharing roof with him. So I have not so many “obligations.” So that give me “room to move “.
One time, she told me we couldn’t meet that weekend. She had to go to some reunion in Daly City. Filipinos are very tight bonded with families.
Weekend was a blast. Jose Cuervo Gold and I became good friends. Also Tylenol…and the toilet. I would never imagine I would lay my face where everyone else lays “that” part of their body. But the porcelain is always cold…and rubbing your forehead on that porcelain it’s a relief when you just seen your inner self coming out. Out of your mouth…
Sunday night was busy at the restaurant. Also another waiter had to leave earlier and gave me his tables to finish the job. So I did end up running like a headless chicken with his station and mine.
Guys were asking me….yo…wanna go for a drink later??….I was saying…No men…am going home…am beaten.
Finally around midnight I was off duty…my flat was near…just a few hundred meters uphill. But uphill….and I was tired….so there I was…walking slowly…apron, bowtie and stuff in a plastic bag…tuxedo shirt opened to the 4 th button …hairy chest all exposed…( yuck….lol ) minding in my own business…going up hill…dragging myself up…thanks goodness I can finally sleep all night long…tomorrow am off….Yeahhh
…And then in the corner of my eye….I saw a car. Big car…one of those huge Buick or so…running at the same pace I was…approaching me…uphill.
It was an urban legend. Seems that gangs were attacking waiters after their shift. It’s been known that waiters can take home a good amount of money. In my case…I made that night more or less 350 dollars…for some people that’s tempting.
…Car was getting closer…near the curb…I was getting scared…started evaluating my chances…
There it was still some good 200 meters to my building. So if I started running ….uphill…sure they get me in no time. No chance…
Also… I can turn back and seek shelter in the restaurants. Nah...They would open car doors and chase me downhill…and being so tired…catch me in no time. No chance…
I reached my pocket …and took my corkscrew. It has a tiny blade. You use that blade to cut and peel the lid of the wine bottles…Maybe I can scratch some guy cheek. Nah…sure he gets more damage shaving himself than with my “weapon”. No chance…
So finally I decided to sell my life and bent over the car….passenger window started rolling down slowly…and a husky female voice came out…. ! Excuse me sir…¡¡¡…
Interior was light up. Car has a leather upholstery ...creamy …seems expensive. And the driver….Wow…the driver was a woman…black woman…in her 40 ´s no really black skin…more like tanned.
Her dress got a huge cleavage…no bra…I could see her “next week “from where I was standing . Men …what a vision…
She was attractive…sexy…and DRUNK…
(To be continued…stay tuned….)
Artículos de Pedro 🐝 Casanova
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Comentarios
Dean Owen
hace 7 años #4
Ahh, nothing dramatic, Yakuza know better than to harm a foreigner. Got out of the limousine plastered, hopped on the first bicycle I could find, and cycled off. Half way home I noticed it was a white bicycle, which usually means it is a police bicycle, so I hopped off just outside a ramen shop, had a bowl of noodles, and walked home.
Lisa Gallagher
hace 7 años #3
yikes Dean Owen, what happened after your encounter?
Dean Owen
hace 7 años #2
Lisa Gallagher
hace 7 años #1