Osprey
Ultra Nomad
Posts: 3694
Registered: 5-23-2004
Location: Baja Ca. Sur
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Ipanema Girl
Back in Torrence with the Ipanema Blues
I was at the market when my cell went off.
“Monkey, Cornell. Where are you?”
“Shopping. What’s up Cornell?”
“Got a job for you. Meet me at six at The Liberty Bell in Torrence tonight and I’ll lay it on ya.”
“Six, Okay.” I hung up.
I hardly recognized The Bell since they remodeled and for the first couple of seconds I didn’t recognize Cornell. He was wearing one of those Jamaican
doily hats and dark glasses. We got right to it. There was a job hauling some product from Baja back to L.A. I was to get a partner, take a small
stake-bed truck, licensed in Baja California, down to some little town on the beach, hide the stuff in the truck, drive it back to L.A. We would split
$10,000 when the goods were delivered.
“Let the Mexicans bring it up here. You can get it done for next to nothing that way. Probably safer too. It’s not that I don’t need the work, the
money, but why go all the way down there? Let em bring it up.”
Cornell said “They’re afraid of their own people. Been lots of trouble transporting lately and it don’t seem to matter if it’s Sonoyta, Otay or T.J.
They’re willing to pay and it could lead to more and bigger trips and payoffs for you.”
The little man with the plan laid it all out for me, where to pick up the truck, where to cross, where and when the meet would take place. I was to
wear a red baseball cap and be at the swimming pool at the Villa Hermosa Hotel in Bonita Vista not far from Cabo San Lucas. He gave me $700 for gas,
food, walk around. For this little caper I would pass on the partner but I could have used one for just an hour or so when I loaded junk furniture and
a defunct fridge in the back of the truck to look like a new retiree taking household stuff down to his new Baja beach house.
I got the green at Tecate so the whole thing was for nothin’. The trip down went without a hitch and I had a chance to sample Baja’s best roadside
meals; shrimp, lobster, scallops --- all good seafood stuff.
Villa Hermosa was a dream. Right on the beach in the heart of a quaint little village on the Sea of Cortez side, it was rustic but comfortable with
centuries old trees and lush greenery all around the little bungalows surrounding an azure pool complete with swim-up bar, fountains and a spa.
My contact was to meet me at the pool at 11:00 in the morning on June 5th. I was there at 10:00 wearing my red cap and making myself open and
available while trying to meld into the greenery as though I were a fisherman tourist. Wasn’t hard to do – around the pool were an assortment of
chunky women in one piece bathing suits; skin the color and texture of sour cream, men with my red-neck look, arms tanned up from golf or work or
tennis, chests and backs to match the ladies.
While I stirred my blended Margarita with a little red stick I turned around to view the opposite side of the pool. Then I saw her. The bronze
Goddess. She was just placing her things on a little plastic table near a lounge chair, just settling in. She was alone – no finger ring, no wrist
band, no room key. On the table she had placed a small colorful handbag, a paperback book, her sunglasses. I realized I had been staring at her for
several seconds but I couldn’t help myself, she was that breathtakingly perfect. She wore a bikini but not one of those thong things – the soft floral
pattern accentuated her flawless cinnamon skin. She didn’t sit down on the lounge but moved to the edge of the pool, leaned way down to test the
water, sat daintily on the edge just gently kicking her feet back and forth to feel the delicious coolness. She looked up, right in my direction and
smiled; a pure, complete break your heart smile, a ‘I’m just happy to be alive, hope you are too’ smile, a non-agenda smile.
My drink was making a big puddle on the bar for lack of attention and the bartender came over and cleaned it up with a bar rag, pulled me back from
the abyss. I looked at my watch – it was10:12. Not much time. I thought “What the hell will I do with my wallet?”
I wanted to slip into the water, quietly swim across to her side where my eyes would be right at the level of her lovely knees, just hang there for a
short while then make my pitch. I sure as hell didn’t want to leave my wallet with the bartender and I would lose the advantage of the moment if I had
to take it back to the truck, lock it up. Maybe it would be all for naught anyway when she got a good look at my tattoos. I wondered if she was
Mexican or Latino or just dark all around, hair, skin, deep obsidian eyes gleaming at me all the way across the water.
I finished my drink, put some pesos on the bar and I was about to give my wallet to the bartender to keep behind the bar when a man appeared behind
the woman. He had his back to me at first and I wasn’t sure he was even with her. Then he turned to speak with her, joined her on the edge of the pool
and burst my big bubble. On the table with her things I could now see his room key, a cellphone, a handtowel concealing something metal – it bulged as
though it could be a wallet but there was something shiny, some kind of metal object with it. Now as he moved closer to her I could see it better.
Looked like a gun; the flat end of a clip and part of the grip on an auto.
Now I turned my attention to him. Tall and stocky, about thirty, $100 dollar mainland haircut, manicure, gold chain around his neck. No wrist band, no
ring, no shoes. His black bathing shorts could have been right off the shelf or military. He looked up, right at me, then glanced around the pool area
taking it all in. His gaze held only for part of a second on the western end of the pool at a Mexican man, alone in a lounge chair talking on a cell
phone. On the table next to the man was a small handtowel which held something bulging which I could not see any part of.
I had snatched up a towel when I first came into the pool area, held it on my arm to hide one wrist. I hadn’t checked in, thinking I would make some
good time on the way back before dark if we could get the product stashed quickly in the truck. I could see the pool bathrooms at the rear of the
dinning hall so I slipped out of the water, walked around the pool past the second man on what would look like my way to the toilet. He was still on
the phone, paid no attention to me as I walked quietly behind his chair and I spotted the gun with no trouble – a bonus this time; I also saw the
badge impression on the wallet.
I turned right, out of the pool area, walked quickly to the truck, started it and pulled away from the parking area. Just as I passed under the big
curved entrance to the resort I saw two uniforms with sniffer dogs working the parking area.
They weren’t waiting for me. They were waiting for him. Gonna be no meeting today – no product going north, just some friendly soldiers checking me
for armas or drogas. Just a big waste of time, the whole thing. Might have all been worth it for a few minutes alone with the Ipanema girl. Well, it’s
like I told Cornell “Let em bring it up north themselves.”
I was also thinking “Jesus, can’t anybody keep a secret around here?”
Gased up again at San Ignacio and hit the highway hard. I was careful not to go crazy with the speed but to stay at least 15 kph above whatever the
highway posts were, go with the flow. I will admit to being a little snakebit over the warning they gave me when I came down with Chato, got caught
with the hot Tahoe.
Then I heard the thump, thump, thumps – a flat on the right rear tire. I still had some daylight, I had checked and kicked the spare when I first
gassed up near the border but I had not checked the truck to see if it had a jack, a lug wrench.
While I was crawling around under the seats, on both sides of the passenger compartment of the truck looking for tools, flashlights, whatever, two
trucks pulled up behind me blinking white lights. White lights? Pickups with campers? Before I could react two guys from the trucks walked toward me
waving and smiling as though I knew them.
“You a nomad? Saw your bumper sticker. We’re a little caravan of Nomads goin north. Need any help?
“Yeah, I might. I’ve gotta good spare but I might have forgot my jack.”
There were three rigs; the first a big red truck with a cabover camper, the next a smaller black truck pulling a travel trailer and taking up the rear
was a grey SUV. Now there were three men, two women and two small kids gathered at the rear of my truck all bent on meeting me, giving me a hand.
I shook hands all around.
The first guy said “I’m Bob Campton. I go by Buddy-Baja, this is my wife, Irene. This is Cam, Foster and Helen and their kids. Where you headed?”
“San Diego.”
“Well, we’re gonna cross at Tecate but you can caravan with us to Ensenada if you like. We’re not all together, we just hooked up at Concepcion for
safety’s sake on the way back north.”
“That would be great, thanks. I’m Gaylen but I go by Monkey.”
“Bajamonkey?” said one of the guys.
“Yeah.” I said.
I never did find any tools but they dug theirs out, helped me change the spare. We all stopped together at San Quintin for gas and I met the rest of
those who had stayed in the car or trucks. One vehicle full was from Idaho, the other two from Arizona. They chatted about fishing, the price of gas,
the weather, the usual. They all had the Baja Nomad stickers on the vehicles and I gathered it was some kind of club. I wondered where Cornell got the
truck, the sticker.
Whoever they were they had it all in one bag; flew through all the checkpoints handing out cokes and drawing rock group smiles and waves from Mexican
federales, soldiers, marines and various other inspectors.
I waved them all goodbye at Ensenada but not before they made me promise to hookup on “the net”, stop lurking, start posting, whatever that was.
I was thinking maybe I had my last dry run with the Mexicans but I would keep this happy group in mind if I ever had a shot at bringing back a big,
fat load of product for big dough. The Bajamonkey would have a real live escort. Like they said ‘safer that way’. I’ll get on Cornell’s computer,
check these Nomads out.
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CaboRon
Ultra Nomad
Posts: 3401
Registered: 3-24-2007
Location: The Valley of the Moon
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Mood: Peacefull
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Many Thanks Osprey for another great story to start the day ...
CaboRon
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Martyman
Super Nomad
Posts: 1904
Registered: 9-10-2004
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Oh...but I want her so badly.
How...can I tell her I love her?
I...I would give my heart gladly.
But each day when she walks to the sea,
She looks straight ahead, not at me
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shari
Select Nomad
Posts: 13050
Registered: 3-10-2006
Location: bahia asuncion, baja sur
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Mood: there is no reality except the one contained within us "Herman Hesse"
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me encanto tu cuento amigo...shouldn't this story be on the ride-sharing/caravaning thread? ya just never know do ya.
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debindesert
Nomad
Posts: 111
Registered: 4-12-2007
Location: California High Desert
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Mood: Amused
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| Quote: | Originally posted by Osprey
"...She looked up, right in my direction and smiled; a pure, complete break your heart smile, a ‘I’m just happy to be alive, hope you are too’ smile,
a non-agenda smile..." |
Not many of those in one's lifetime. This was great. Thanks for the post.
-Deb
“Life should not be a journey to the grave with the intention of arriving safely in an attractive and well
preserved body, but rather to skid in sideways, champagne in one hand, strawberries in the other, body thoroughly used up, totally worn out and
screaming, \'What a ride!\' - Author Unknown
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Tin=Can
Junior Nomad
Posts: 29
Registered: 4-8-2007
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ah, the thrill of victory and the agony of defeat !!!! sounds like a great trip with a few heart stopping moments. everyone needs a few in their
lives.
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BajaGringo
Ultra Nomad
Posts: 3922
Registered: 8-24-2006
Location: La Chorera
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Mood: Let's have a BBQ!
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Girl from Ipanema
Having lived and worked in South America for many years I had the extreme good fortune to be able to spend a lot of time enjoying life, cold
Caipirinha's and the scantily clad beautiful women that paraded before me on that very special stretch of beach in Rio.
You cannot help but hear the voice of Astrud Gilberto and the seducing lyrics to that famous samba. It is something everyone should experience at
least once in their lifetime...
[Edited on 6-14-2008 by BajaGringo]
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DanO
Super Nomad
Posts: 1923
Registered: 8-26-2003
Location: Not far from the Pacific
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Great one, George. Any chance that Cornell is drawn from a real-life character?
\"Without deviation from the norm, progress is not possible.\" -- Frank Zappa
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Osprey
Ultra Nomad
Posts: 3694
Registered: 5-23-2004
Location: Baja Ca. Sur
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No, just make believe. All the characters in the story are make believe. Except the girl of course.
[Edited on 6-13-2008 by Osprey]
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toneart
Ultra Nomad
Posts: 4901
Registered: 7-23-2006
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Mood: Skeptical
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Thanks for the story , Osprey, and for the image now living in my skull. She has displaced all the others and now I am obsessed.  
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Iflyfish
Ultra Nomad
Posts: 3747
Registered: 10-17-2006
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Thanks for not making up the girl, thoughtful of you. Great yarn as usual.
Iflyfish
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