Staff Writer
McALLEN, Texas - Took a swoop downtown over the weekend. Dang. The Rio Grande Valley's latest Bar Strip has grown like some drunken tapeworm. Something like 30 bars and restaurants now, all glitzy and hot and expensive, but there - there drawing the customer in, keeping the customer satisfied. I've been to Canaan and to Barcelona and to Cairo and to Vegas. Little McAllen, the City of Palms, is birthing something here. A few scantilly-clad broads in picture windows and we'll have Amsterdam, boys.
"Is it screaming at me?" I asked a bouncer at one of the clubs.
"She's waitin' on you, dude," he shot back in reply, laughing heavy.
I'm hip to the trip, as they said in the drug-fueled Sixties. I'm stonin', as they said in the Seventies. I'm poppin'-em, as they said in the Eighties. I'm fucked-up, as they've said since the Nineties. It's almost midnight. The Stones are on fire on a nearby rooftop bar, chicks hanging over the railing like pubic hair ivy. Lemme atom, I say, my beer-drowned brain doing its best to keep me upright. Somewhere, the world is cracking. people are dying, soldiers are being whacked, criminals are getting dressed, prostitutes undressed, the Bosox beating the Yanks. I love the heart of a Saturday night.
At a dimly-lit streetcorner on the southern end of this city's new Entertainment District, two geese are coupling on a darkened sidewalk as two cabbies from Mexico share a joint. "Quieres un toque, jefe?" the fatter cabbie asks and my girlfriend, Amparo, goes for it. She's sucking on that shit like a pro, like a woman from the city, from the cultured drags of Paris, of NYC, of L.A. The skinny cabbie motions my girl into the backseat of his wheels. She shakes her head. It's what I love about her - she knows who her horse is, her ride, her jackhammer, her pile-driver, her sex toy.
We drink the night away.
When we head back to her car, our only question is: Why do these Bozos close at 2 Ayem? Players are still angling, chicks still gyrating, and, shit, the price of drinks is still skyrocketing, music is still sailing. A true-blue, no-bullshit Entertainment District never sleeps...
- 30 -
8 comments:
Ricardo Klement,you say it as it is bro, hard partying, nothing wrong with that, keep on going bro, life is short, way to short.
DON PANCHO:...Indeed, it is short. That's why, as Ricardo Klement says around here, it's always okay to have a few laughs. Thinking too much can kill you at a young age. But not thinking enough will keep you in Brownsville. Ha ha ha... - Editor
The entire Rancho Grande Valley - Federal indian Reservation and Castouts refuge... Will always have a strong Colonial Inferiority Complex done by their dominant White Anglo masters and conquerors.
(He comes from a job as night manager of a Brownsville laundromat)
Upon first sight, I thought it was a photo of Maria Luisa in her youth. Guess not, huh?
ralphy
Ralphy:...I wouldn't mess with Maria Luisa. She's gonna get you, and it's not going to be pretty. We have alerted all area ambulance services. May God be with you... - Editor
I want to meet this Ralphy, so I can slap some comeon sence on his feeble brain. How dare you, compare me to the Brownsville crowd. You Moron!!!!
Esta Latina no le tiene miedo a nadie.
(White Anglo masters and conquerors.)
Say Patrick, is this from that poor/sad/suicidal Maracas dude, under another name? Sad. Y que viva el Jose Cuervo!!!
ralphy
(Esta Latina no le tiene miedo a nadie.)
No, no, no, Mary Lou. The last thing I wanted to do was upset you. What I meant was that the person in the pic may have been you 50-60 hell, even 70 years ago. I know it couldn't be you now. What with all of your obvious "self-steeeem" and what have you.
Ralphy
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