Making my way over the border, yet again. The walls on the bridge caked with all kinds of multicolored graffiti. One layer on top of the other, like some demented artist's masterpiece. The random discarded trash of by passers dancing in the wind across the floor along with everyday El Paso dust. And of course I can't leave out the foul odor of beer and urine that greets you as you make your way into Ciudad Juarez. But, I endure it. I have no choice. Not since some idiot decided to run his truck into the side of my car three weeks ago. Leaving me with the burden of trying to find ways to make my way around town to run everyday errands.
To think this was my daily routine before. Hauling bags of my belongings across the US border, like some homeless with his precious collection of aluminum cans. I don't know how I used to do it. The very thought makes me sick now. The things one is capable of doing when it comes to love. You see, my partner lives in Juarez. That's why I've risked my ass coming into this forgotten corner of the world where drugs and crime reign supreme for the past four years. Coming daily into this little hell hole that so many women slaughtering pigs call home. Ahhhh Ciudad Juarez, some of my best memories are from here.
But, that's a different story. Many in fact. Today is not one of those days. Today I have my tired legs, screaming for rest, to deal with. What a sight I must be for those passing by in the comfort of their vehicles, with their AC's on full blast, and some inaudible noise they dare call music streaming out of the speakers. Yes, what a sight indeed. My hair flat from the humidity, four engorged bags slung over my shoulders, and soaked in sweat. I really need to lose some weight. There isn't anything sadder in this world than an overweight faggot.
As I reach the checkpoint, some short, pudgy, Mexican soldier motions me to stop.
"Una revision joven." He says with a smug tone in his voice.
I fling my things onto the green, plastic table he has beside him for this purpose without the courtesy of opening them for him. That's his job after all, isn't it? He continues on his mission to violate my privacy by sticking his dirty fat hands into my things. He fumbles through clothes, text books from school, shoes, you know, useless shit like that. He then starts with the assault of the usual questions, not once looking me in the eyes.
"Where are you coming from? What do you do for a living? What's the purpose for your visit to Mexico?"
I answer, of course, with my usual rehearsed lies," I'm taking time off of work in order to go to school full time, which is where I'm coming from. You see my badge? I'm coming to Mexico to spend the night with my grandmother, she lives here in Juarez."
I always say I'm staying with this beloved, non-existent grandmother who is so ill she needs me to go spend the night with her. You see, they tend not to ask as many questions when you're going with your poor, sick grandma. Ha! If they only knew the real reason I was going was just to get my brains fucked out of me!
"Adelante, buenas noches." He states, apparently satisfied with my answer.
I gather my things and obediently continue on my path, not forgetting to notice the soldier checking my ass out as I walk away. Of course, I made an effort to move them more just for him. Old habits die hard.
I find myself annoyed by the terrible thundering of the semi trucks pulling their cargo into Juarez. I try to ignore it as I walk through an endless pathway closed in by towering poles on either end. Hungry, steel teeth waiting to devour me. Upon emerging at the end, I'm instantly, ambushed by the litter of taxi drivers, like wild animals hunting their prey. Each offering me a better price for a ride than the one before.
"Not tonight gentlemen." I state as I wave them away. Very much like you would wave at a pestering fly that won't leave you be. "I've already got a ride."
I continue walking, leaving the drivers behind me to wait in the shadows for the next pedestrian. My eyes are set on the vendor standing at the corner, shouting at all the vehicles zooming past him. The sight of me reaching for my wallet was all he needed to abandon that and blunder in my direction. Money hungry bastard. I order a pack of cigarettes, Marlboro Gold Touch, which he quickly hands to me. I greedily open the pack and light a cigarette all before he can even hand me my change. He asks if I want some gum or a copy of the Diaro.
"El Diaro? This fucking late in the day? You're fucking kidding me right?" I snatch my change and walk away laughing.
I reach my little resting place in "El Parque Chamizal" and after laying my things down I stretch my aching arms. I survey my surroundings, skinny deprived trees with their trunks painted white, yellowing grass, broken cement littered with cigarette butts and stone hard gum, the Mexican flag waving proudly above me from a steel pole about three stories high, a greasy, caramel complected man with black holes in his sad face for eyes with a cart on the corner selling corn in the cup and the herds of pedestrians, with lost expressions, making their way to and from El Paso. Yes, all of this but no sight of my ride. Pulling my phone out, I look at the time. He's running late... again. If there's one thing I can't stand, it's waiting.
I light another cigarette and become lost in my thoughts. Another weekend spent in Juarez. Another weekend to be lost among the hundreds of weekends spent here before. I hope my car is ready soon. It's been long enough already. I have half a mind not to pay the asshole fixing it the full amount he asked for. Why should I? He's taking his sweet time with it. Doesn't he realize how much I need it?
My train of thoughts is shattered as Helio finally pulls up. I flick my cigarette into the busy street and pick up my bags off the dirty floor. Walking over to the car, I try smiling at Helio. It doesn't work. I throw my crap into the backseat and sink into the front passenger seat.
"You're late" I hiss as I click the seatbelt on.
"I'm sorry baby. It won't happen again" is his reply.
Damn right it won't happen again. It better not if you know what's good for you. Helio reaches over and grabs my hand and suddenly, just like that, I'm not angry anymore. I lean over and give him a kiss on his cheek as we drive off into the bustling streets of Juarez.
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