I appeared at Papa Chango’s treehouse, unannounced as always. Chango was busy making wood models. It had only taken him 59 odd years, including 40 years of gucci construction to realize that blueprints are just a load of bullocks. He says they are absolutely impossible for the client to wrap their mind around. Ditto that my brother.
Sure the blue print with all the exotic fractions and measurements everywhere show there is a door here, which opens to a deck there. And yes the fridge sits here and the bidet goes there. Oh, and if we go to page 9, there is a sideways back view of the Master Bedroom. So long as you can imagine it from a bird’s eye. Eeesh.
So PC is making models. Clearly putting the word model back in Model Home. His models are all made of scrap wood and glue only. His current project is a two story, 1200 s/f guest home. For your viewing pleasure, the roof lifts off. So does the second story. Everything is scaled exactly to size. So simple, a monkey can understand it.
I had myself a situation. My 180 day visa had expired, and I was popped riding a borrowed scooter going the wrong way on a one way. I wasn’t carrying a license or my passport. Unfortunately the only bill in my bathing suit was a 500 Peso Large. Can’t be parting with that juicy nug.
Did he have a gun? No I said. Did he have car nearby? No. And you were on a scooter? Yes I said. Did you make eye contact with him? I did. BIG MISTAKE. So he’s on foot, and you stopped? Yep. How much did he get? Not a peso I said. Nicely done..OK here’s what you do.
So I grew a mustache. A big ol thick Honkin’ one. Like Goose Gossage. Then I went and bought me one of them big ol brimmed whicker hats with the drawstring. I stopped walking barefoot. I changed out my sunglasses. I wore a shirt wherever I went. A bonified OG. Slalom.
Word was out. The chess legend in Puerto for the past 20 years or so was finally being beaten by a young fellow named KO. True Stories. KO was regularly beating Tron, yet not without giving it everything he had. It was no secret that Tron was well underway with the derailing affects of Alzheimer’s, but trust me, he still managed to play a very professional game of chess. I had heard through the mezcal vine that Tron used to play many of Puerto’s so called ‘best’ players without using his Queen. He would set it up, but never move it. How fucking cool is that?
I saw Tron & KO doing battle in a cafe once. I knew who they were. They didn’t know me. The reason I knew of them is because I’m good that way. So there I was, thumbing through my pocket dictionary, minding somebody else’s business. The game looked very serious. I began wondering if I had it in me to play at their level. Had I known that I would be given that very golden opportunity in less than 10 days from what is now then, I don’t know what I would have done differently. Second guess my ability more likely than not. I made like a banana.