Thursday, December 27, 2007

IF YOU'RE DOWN, YOU'RE DOWN:
On being lo mas chingón

PASO ROBLES, Calif. (ZP) -- They were hard.

Hard, as in I'll fucking drop your joker ass in the Salinas River if you look at me wrong hard.

And they knew it. Nobody accidentally becomes lo mas chingón. Personal image is just as much a manufactured good as a box of donuts.

Listening to their conversation, half in English, half in Spanish, all Pachuco, I realized instantly why the white salesclerk kept asking if she could help them find anything, why just about every other customer in the place was either staring, making their way to the door, or hanging onto wallets and purses for dear life.

The ink was straight-up hardcore, jail time raw with black and blue lettering. Teardrops and Catholic saints, portraits of Pancho Villa and barrio-friendly iconography. XXXL black Dickies work shirts, raven-dyed hoodies, and baggy jeans covered tiny frames in yards of unnecessary fabric.

They wandered through that tiny clothing store, white hot rivets of la raza firme. Everything about them - their demeanor, speech, and dress - conveyed pure, unadulterated danger, a burlesque freedom built upon street life and gang fights, built upon turf wars and confrontations with authority and a certain ambivalence towards anybody else's version of "current events."

And the group of Chicana women just kept shopping away, pretending to be oblivious to the sheer terror they generated.

They knew they were scaring the living shit out of a store full of normal, decent people. And, yep, they enjoyed every moment as old ladies squirmed like worms in the sun.


* * * *

"They should go back to where they come from. We don't need them here."

A strange statement. The Japanese-American woman shopping beside me, old enough to have had a parent locked away in an internment camp during the Second World War, didn't have to specify who they were or where they supposedly came from. After all, nobody ever looks at an almond-colored woman with Asian features and thinks the same thing...

"When I was a little girl in San Jose, you locked those people up."

Sure, lady, sure.

Don't you have letters to the goddamn editor to write? Maybe family to pester? And aren't you just a tad too old to be pretending that everybody just swears you're 38?

* * * *

I walked out, back into the precious winter sunlight, back towards the borrowed Ford Mustang. Just as I reached the car door, two of the hoodied hynas sprinted down the sidewalk, laughing. Within seconds, the rest of their group sped past.

One of the girls stopped right in front of the car, out of breath, panting and grinning. She looked up from behind thick eyeshadow and purple lipstick. Her eyebrows, in traditional homegirl fashion, were plucked to down to razor-thin lines.

"I useta run back in the day...but...damn... lil mi'ja made me fat, ay ... heyizzatyour..."

She leaned back against a storefront and slid down to the pavement. She pointed at the Ford convertible. I laughed and explained that, well, it was a loner.

"Oh yeah...you...white boy from... holdon..."

She reached behind her back and pulled out a wallet.

My wallet.

"You...Ohio...was gonna... like... dropped it."

- # # # -



12 comments:

Cat. said...

LMAO.

Miz BoheMia said...

Even on simple shopping trips... how do you get into these situations amigo mio?

;-P

The ZenFo Pro said...

Cat:
Yeah, it is pretty funny. PEople just get so caught up on looks...

MizB:
Oh, I don't know. Dumb fucking luck usually :)

Xmichra said...

cultural divide is right... i have no idea what just went down there. I definately have not been "exposed" to what ever that all is.

EsotericWombat said...

I try to lead a strange existence. Of course, you're always reminding me that I could be doing much better and that I should be trying harder.

Great story, dude.

G said...

Happy New Year, bro.

Peace
G

Cooper said...

Hum, Well it's a new year, maybe your luck will change. ;)

cracking me up Ohio boy.


Happy New Year.

librarianwoes said...

Happy New Year Dude!

C. K. said...

Isn't it so true - usually the scariest looking people are the most honest. It's the most annoyingly ironic thing - people are them are clutching on their wallets based on what they look like.. Aii-ya-ya-ee.

What a great story. It's a very happy story for a change. Happy New Year!

Coyote Mike said...

Nice. Can't tell anything about anyone.

Shayna said...

Happy New Year, Jason! Hope you don't "lose" any more wallets! :)

The ZenFo Pro said...

Xmich:
Lol, yeah, the joys of Californication :P

Wombat:
Heh. I'm just glad I got the wallet back. Hard to fly home these days without a picture ID...

G:
Hey, you too.

Coo:
"Ohio Boy?!?"

Omg. I'm...turning into a ...

GASP!

Woe:
Hey thanks!

CK:
It's very true, sometimes. I'm less scared of women, say, with jailhouse ink than I am of say, somebody from the suburbs.

Mike:
Nope, you really can't. A person's heart is always the hardest to judge.

Shayna:
Hey chica! Happy NY to you too! :)