Flash recall

Dirty Joe’s and the rub in the VW. It got old fast with all the nerdy beer drinking engineers. A few females rule the group, especially the attractive, daring and confident ones, who were outnumbered by the men. They had the time of their lives, more than one boyfriend, depending on whether it was a drunken incantation or a glimpse to the future. A tall Chicago electrical sat across the picnic table from him while the group downed pitchers of cheap shit beer. She rubbed her naked foot on his jean’s crotch to get his attention. He loved her directness, her height, her wicked smiled and her lovely breasts. For a moment, he was in love, but realized it was a drunken incantation, one he would pursue from time to time, in spite of her live-in boyfriend, who came home one night after studying to find him in a closet, where he hid after they. But no violence, no concern, he was able to walk away freely with a light conversation with the two of them. Some excuse about a t-shirt taken from the boat. How weird he thought at the time. How lucky he felt to not be beat up by a much bigger guy with psycho eyes and an alcohol abuse past.  

Amnesty international West Palm Beach or thereabouts, 1987. Ana from Arecibo took him to one of the meetings. He was more interested in exploring a relationship with her than writing letters to release prisoners of conscience. He could have let it happen following the night outside by the softball field, but he had things on his mind. The previous week a looney Deadhead tried to mentor him on LSD, and at that particular moment, he had no interest in that either. The kid overreacted and ceased being friends. Maybe there was something else on his mind.

Ana’s friend from the island wandered the mall and met an obedient German woman selling chocolate and nuts and other snacks at the mall candy store. He asked for her number and they met. She came to him. She wanted to serve him, but the fake red hair and thick panty hose were not his thing that night,  when he desired a petite Colombiana. He played around with her and got rid of her just to meet a friend for some weed and a surf punk tale. Ana had given up on him by then so they don’t see each other ever again until Facebook 20 years later and she asks what happened to all that hair. Upset, he let the conversation slow, pause and end.

Playing in the pool with a dark skinned Israeli with large breasts and a vigorous smile, years later, a moment in bed, it’s 1993. She was pretty, very pretty south Florida hippy Deadhead and Jewish. He loved her skin. Below the waist however, she was quite big. A bit more than he fancied. They flirted in that pool after his karate class on a hot summer day before he saw below the waterline. No one else there. She was pushing the limits and liked to flirt. He was horny but behaved. They would say hello from time to time. A few years went by and before he set off to leave south Florida forever, they had their time to weigh opportunity and consequences. She came to his bed and they made love. She had the look in her eyes of seeking love. He felt not much more than a temporary lust accomplishment, but felt bad afterwards. 

Brazilian Colombian mix up. The Japanese Brazilian was the girl he should have gone after. Instead he fucked it up. For the merengue concert in Miami where they packed in someone else's car for the hour long drive, he saw himself with the Japanese Brazilian, not beautiful but very attractive, and cool. But ended up rubbing his crotch against a pretty, skinny Colombian girl, dismissing the Brazilian. He ended up into a reactive relationship with a the Colombian girl who worked as a grocery check out girl and had no interest in studying further than high school. He lost the opportunity with the Brazilian; she was angry and didn't return his calls. He decided to continue to pursue the suntanned Colombian with long brown hair until he found out she was a virgin. She was also very jealous. He could encourage her to go to college. Her family loved him, even through Hurricane Andrew. He ended up fucking her once or twice and then had enough of the skit. She was immediately shocked with how he used her, and at how cold he was. He tried to reverse the move, feeling guilty. It was too late. But in the store where she no longer worked, her best friend, a fellow Puerto Rican with experience who always advised her, told him that she would never forget him, as he was the first and pushed her to get an education. 

Rolling through the same PR traffic lights on highway year after year...No forget that one. Nothing there yet. That doesn't change. 

Try Miami cocaine car wash Australian midnight oil fan and drunken night in Coral Gables and bayside. The weekend was for Midnight Oil. The Australian carried a lot of cash and a lot of coke. The Miami brothers were involved in a car wash business with the Aussie. He never made the connection but a large group of them ended up very drunk on a Bay of Miami boat, taking over the DJ, and dancing and making the crew very uncomfortable. They got off without getting arrested and saw Midnight Oil perform "Beds are Burning" at the Cameo. That Cameo served a lot of needs: Iggy Pop, Black Uhuru, Fela Kuti, and lots of Salsa souls.  

Fajardo hold up follow in 1994. He was on assignment, which was interesting because he could apply his knowledge and skills. At dinner with his boss, they were held up by four kids with masks and guns. He gave up his wallet, but still felt two things: 1) he could break their arms, and 2) he or someone else would be shot dead. They got away and for the first time he got that delayed, shaking feeling a few hours later after safely locked into the Carolina beach apartment. He helped himself to half a bottle of scotch that the owner left in the apartment, which he would replace. I’ve never seen a gun so close before, he kept thinking to himself.