Day LXI

Bogus Pilots

     There was an old, scratched up oak desk, behind an older wooden rail, and an oficial behind it.

     “You speaky English?” Angel loudly asked.

     I remember thinking why do we speak slowly and loudly to people who don’t speak English, as if it would make them understand us. We all do it, and it’s so stupid. Anyway, the oficial looked at him, then at me. I looked him in the eye, and did my best Castilian impression. Back home it made my peeps laugh. But this was some serious shit. I asked him for his boss.

     “Si si!” he smiled, told me to wait, and schlepped his ass off to an office in the back.

     “Watcha tell im?”

     “I asked him for the sheriff, for his boss, El Jeffe!”

     “Na wat?”

     “We wait dude, we wait.”

     I guess the boss wasn’t in, because we waited for almost forty five minutes, during which we must have smoked at least a pack between us. Dealing with cops, especially when a pal is in jail, and both your asses are on the line, will increase your pangs of anciety, and your want for a smoke. When El Jeffe finally showed up, he says.

     “How kan eye halp joo jennal men?”

     Angel looked at him, then at me. I responded in my best Castilian impression again, and told him we were friends of Garza, and that we were members of the U.S. Air Force. I guess that dumb PI in the movie was right on, because after that he looked at us with the greatest respect, and went out of his way to be helpful. I never said anything to the contrary, but I got the impression he thought we were pilots. Anyway, he extended his hand, and shook first mine, then Angel’s.