I just went in to get insurance as a driver. I don’t own a car. I bike. In today’s world, though, you need insurance for everything. The insurance lady was a very good looking Mexican-American woman. It was a Saturday, and she was the only one in the office. I asked her why they only had one person in the office on a Saturday, and she informed me that as part of her picking her own schedule, which included taking care of her three daughters, she had to work Saturdays. Her hair was pulled back and she kept yawning and apologizing, which I, of course, told her not to worry about. I work Monday thru Friday, which means Friday nights are usually a prime time for me to indulge in some libations…so Saturday meetings aren’t my best, either. She wasn’t wearing any makeup, and her tiredness gave me a real sense of what she truly looked like, and she was gorgeous. As a note: I love women without makeup. I don’t mind women who wear makeup, not at all, I just love the natural look of a woman.
During the process of me getting insurance, we were interrupted by the phone several times. Business…go figure. It was cool to see how she was unlabored in repeating the same long-ass sentence she had to say while answering the phone. “Hello, this is So-and-so from Such-and-such insurance, how can I help you save money today?” I’m sure we all know that feeling, or action, where the mundane of our jobs becomes rote in our routines and obligations. On one of the calls, she spoke Spanish. What stood out to me is that every now and then, probably four times during the call, she would say “Okay”. When she got off the call…and by the way, at this point in our interaction we were about 30 minutes into chopping it up, so we were on good terms as fellow human beings…I asked, “Is there no word in Spanish for ‘Okay’?” She said, “No, not really…the closest thing would be ‘It’s good’”. I asked, using the very little Spanish I still retain, “Esta bien?” She told me that was correct and we moved on with processing my insurance. She also noted that most Spanish speaking Mexicans use “Okay” in their everyday speech.
I like when that happens. When speech transpires naturally without us knowing it. How many of you football fans think of Germany when you say your team “Blitzed” the quarterback? Umm…zero. Same thing here. It just integrates.
My inquiry into the use of the word “okay” somehow turned into a talk about Mexico. I told her how I had traveled down to Baja and had a great time but I would’ve been absolutely lost if it hadn’t been for the fact that my good friend was of Cuban descent and spoke Spanish. I told her how me and my friends were down there for 12 days and we had the best time and how I thought that, as long as one wasn’t around the border towns of, say, Tijuana or Juarez…you know, the towns where statistically there would be more drug-running activities going on…that one was safe. I told her how thankful that my Spanish speaking friend was there, especially for the several roadblocks that were set up by the Mexican military to thwart drug runners. They have machine guns and fucking bunkers and fucking machine gun turrets
and pictures of drugs and fuckin gold-plated handguns that they’ve confiscated and shit. It’s wild. Those roadblocks would have been absolute fucking nightmares if we didn’t have somebody along who spoke Spanish. Especially since the only language I was speaking down there was Tecate. Wait…that’s I lie…I was bi-lingual in Baja. I also spoke Modelo. No, Tequila isn’t a language…it’s just jibberish.
My naturally beautiful Latina insurance broker then shared that when she was in Ensenada, which is a western Baja town…a town that my traveling party had stayed in…a pretty fucking fun town…she was stopped by a group of Zetas. Zetas were at one time the equivalent in Mexico that the Navy Seals or Rangers are in America. That is to say, they were the elite military unit of their country. Well, one day, a group of them realized that the dangers that they were taking on fighting drug cartels wasn’t worth the risk monetarily. So, they banded off and became an elite drug cartel themselves. Anyways, she was telling me how she was drunk at the time of her meeting the Zetas… “A mean drunk”, at that…and talking shit to the Zetas in Ensenada. She mentioned how they were wearing their machine guns draped around their torsos. I said, “You didn’t say, ‘Get the fuck outta here with your ugly sashes’, did you?” We laughed. She even had a nice laugh. Then she continued. She recalled how one of the Zetas just walked up to her, silently, “like a killer in a horror movie”, and pointed his finger in the other direction, over her shoulder, for her to leave. She said that she woke up the next morning thanking God that nothing else happened. She was scared shitless that next morning.
Now here is where the shit gets real.
She has family in Mexico. About a three day drive “from where we stand” as she put it. By the way, I stand in Modesto, California right now. Her uncle, her “Tio”, owned a farm way down there. Down in the southern part of Mexico. The drug cartel down there…not the Zetas, she wouldn’t tell me who, exactly, even though I didn’t ask…demanded that her Tio give his land to them. Fucking THREATENED! They told him he could leave his life-long farm or he could stay. He said he wanted to stay. They told him, if you stay, you stay in the ground. Then…
THEY KILLED EVERY SINGLE ONE OF HIS WORKERS, 50+ HUMAN BEINGS, RANGING FROM 80 YEARS OLD TO 6 MONTHS OLD.
SIX FUCKING MONTHS OLD.
NOT EVEN OLD ENOUGH TO HAVE A HINT OF THE STAIN OF HUMANITY.
These workers lived on the farm, as is custom, from what she told me. These fucking savages maniacally assassinated every last one of them.
Her Tio fled to America. Luckily, he had family back in Mexico who didn’t share his last name, so the drug cartel in the area couldn’t sniff them out to kill them. That unnamed family
member let her Tio know when it was safe to go back and get all of his belongings and return to America and be safe. The drug cartel never got the deed to his land and his property.
Armed, military style Mexican drug cartels will never populate America.
My insurance broker’s Tio is a living, breathing human being because he was able to reach America.
You still wanna build a fucking wall?