La Bamba in Juarez

Hola! So, I was recently reminded by a dear friend of one of our evenings out in Juarez, Mexico when we were a lot younger than we are now.

First things first. You have to understand the time and place. This was the late 1980s. We lived in El Paso, Texas. If you don't know this, allow me to inform you that El Paso is like...what...2 millimeters from Mexico. It's practically IN Mexico. So, in the US, there were all sorts of hassles. Hassles like...ohhh..drinking ages and things of that nature. In Mexico? Viva la Tequila! .25 a shot on Thursdays! Only the shots were DOUBLE shots! Very frugal, no? Two shots of Tequila for a quarter. Count ME in. Oh yes, count me in frequently! That's another story for another day.

Anyhow, there is a main "drag" in Juarez called "Juarez Avenue" or simply, "the Main Drag". We would amazingly (and so very stupidly) , park on the US side in THE DARK in DOWNTOWN El Paso, and WALK ACROSS THE STUPID BRIDGE to Mexico. Even when it was freezing and we'd arrive ready to party with snot frozen to our faces. However, I digress. Our story wasn't in the winter. No, it was the late summer of 1988. Some friends and I were having a merry old time in a drinking establishment on the main drag. Mind you, sanitation wasn't a concern at that particular place. I remember being almost ankle deep in liquid, (God, I hope it was beer) and not caring. The bathrooms? Holy mother of Pearl. Don't even ask. We used the men's because it was CLEANER than the women's.

So, there we are, and there is loud music and people sort of half heartedly and very drunkenly dancing on tables, the bar, the swampy floor, each other...wherever. There are Mexican photographers wandering around offering to take your picture for I don't know, five bucks or something. Which we did. WAY too often.

You must picture yourself in a VERY BRIGHTLY lit bar. Most bars here are pretty dimly lit. Not there. This bar was LIKE BEING NEXT TO THE FREAKIN' sun now that I am remembering it. You hear Billy Idol playing so loud your teeth are rattling. You are slamming back Corona beer so fast it's like a special effect. I mean, a whole bucket was two bucks...better drink them while you can! Which is what I was doing, and talking to boys, of course. Since that is the REAL reason you went there.

So, I'm talking to some guy or something, and I look across the crowded mosh pit of drunken American teenagers and see my best friend. We'll call her...ummmm...we'll call her "Roy" for our purposes here. I have to protect identities, you see. So. "Roy" was like talking to some dude REALLY CLOSE to his face. Really invading his personal space, right? My friend "Roy" is the type of person people LOVE immediately. She is gorgeous, funny, goofy, charming, just all around lovable.

People like that do stupid assed stuff, too. Like think everyone who is charmed with them wants to ohhh...I don't know, make out with them in a crowded bar or ohhhh, I don't know, be drug off into the bushes at a college party. So, I had to keep a pretty good eye on her most of the time. Oh Roy....Roy, you really kept me on my toes.

SO, anyhow, like I was saying...Roy is all up in this guy's face talking...and I'm still sort of trying to talk to some guy who I probably already knew and had already made out with, but whatever...and I notice, Roy and this guy's faces are getting closer...and closer...and closer. I begin to push my way through the crowd to pull Roy off the dude. I mean, usually it was Roy being the aggressor. In a TOTALLY non threatening way, of course. Like a tall, beautiful Golden Retriever who doesn't know that although you find them adorable, you don't want them licking you. I knew it would turn out badly with her drunkenly crying on my shoulder as I puked asking me "why didn't he love me???" Um, you don't even know his name, Roy! Not that it had ever happened before, but...I had a very good idea of how it would turn out.

As I try to make my way to Roy, Guns and Roses "Sweet Child O' Mine" is blaring in my ears, and why I remember that, I do not know. I can't hear that song to this day and not be instantly transported to that moment. Which can be inconvenient, especially while driving or having a conversation or something. So, I'm elbowing my away through the crowd, yelling, "NO GRACIAS!!" at photographers and sloshing through the mystery liquid.

I reach Roy and this ...this...PERSON. I'm too late. They are going after it. They are running on all cylinders. I shoved Roy and hollered, "WHAT ARE YOU DOING??? YOU CAN'T MAKE OUT WITH THIS GUY!" Roy was not pleased to have her tonsil hockey fest ruined by me and got a little upset...she was asking me why shouldn't she make out with this guy? The guy in question was just standing there listening to us argue with his head going back and forth like he was watching a tennis match. So, I started screaming to make myself heard over Axel Rose and also because I was very adamant..."IT'S THE GUY FROM LA BAMBA!!! YOU CAN'T MAKE OUT WITH HIM!!" Roy got confused. I kept yelling, "It's the La Bamba dork! You can't make out with him! He's an asshole!" Also things like, "That movie was stupid! You can't make out with him! Plus he has a stupid assed name!!!" Of course, I look at La Bamba and he is not very pleased with my opinion....I didn't care. It was a matter of principle. Roy hollers, "What, like the movie La Bamba?" I replied loudly, "Yeah! He dies in a plane crash! He's a dork! Let's go!"

Roy refused. She went back to swapping spit with the guy whose name rhymes with Goo Lymon Willips. Seriously. Gross. He thought he was the SHIT, too. I will have you know, he was not. However, we may all have been standing in shit, for all I know.

The passion was not long lasting and a few minutes later, Roy was back with me drinking beer. I don't know what happened to La Bamba. He probably ended up sadly walking up to girls and doing his Richie Valens impression or something.

Juarez will do that to you. It's like Bangkok in "The Hangover Two". Only dirtier.