Dave and Tish: married couple from Calgary; he painted houses and didn’t realize his wife was a lesbian. Okay, maybe she wasn’t, but that short frizzed hairdo and the barbed-wire tattoo circling her upper arm didn’t scream femininity
Rich and Debbie: married couple from Washington State. Debbie is still bitter at having grown up a California “Valley Girl” whose parents apparently didn’t raise her in a style she thought she deserved.
John and Thespa: dating couple. John never made a peep so I can’t vouch for him. Thespa introduced him as her friend, then reluctantly corrected herself. Boyfriend. Widowed five years ago, she never shut up about how hard it is to find a man without baggage. Poor John cringed every time she made it clear he wasn’t up to snuff.
Scott Peterson and wife Marcia. Yes, truly. The first time he asked us if we wanted to go fishing, we were slightly amused. The third or fourth time got old. When Marcia asked if we wanted to join them to do the “premium drugs” they’d toted along, we politely declined.
Juan: Beach vendor with the prettiest smile containing the most perfect teeth you’d ever want to see. I suspect he lives in a condo perched on a cliff somewhere and drives a Mercedes.
Milan: (see previous post) 34-year old Serbian who’s lived all over the world and is probably wondering how much longer he can make the gigolo thing work.
Jorge: Pool bartender. He has the most perfect job in the world and promises I can be his assistant when I retire from the rat race.
Unnamed Woman: Fifty-ish (and well past being able to wear a bikini--if indeed, she ever could), I wish I could have been in the dressing room at that moment when she thought silently to herself: “Wow, here’s a keeper.”
Steve and Linda: Dating couple from Simi Valley where I work. Steve sported matching nipple rings and would probably do well on Fear Factor. Linda is a buyer for Nordstrom and rattled off all the upcoming mall developments in my area (which I promptly forgot).
Fidelita: Okay, so we made this name up. She was the dog we met in a small outdoor plaza one night. Hungry and nursing, she looked like prime material for adoption. Ann bought her two plates of steak Fajitas, and she would have been our friend for life only when we went back the next day the plaza had been razed. We couldn’t believe our eyes. Nothing ever happens this quickly in Mexico. We asked a few neighboring shop owners about it and were told a new, more modern, plaza is going in with underground parking. Wha…? Huh??? Underfrickingground parking in Puerto Vallarta? Are they kidding? Anyway, Fidelita apparently roamed away to greener pastures.
So, there it is. People we spent hours talking to. People we’ll never see again. Transient relationships one and all…
Except maybe Jorge, the bartender. Get that apron ready for me, Jorge. I'm ready to jump ship!
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2 comments:
It seemed several of the hotel guests were waiting for us each night to hear of our adventures.
I actually wanted to rent a car and drive Randy and Fidelita the canine to the nearest U.S. border, then Randy, Fidelita and I fly home.
Bless her heart, I think I could have talked Randy into it. However we couln't find the hungry, homeless canine again. I do pray to St. Francis for Fidelita's safety.
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