Tight Fit

This city moves so fast and is filled with so many people that entertainment and bemusement is readily on tap at all times.  As trite as it may sound, it dawned on me last night that the wonders never cease…if you think you may have seen everything, you’re wrong.  There is always a new incident that will top the last. 

Within a 12 hour period, I was truly amazed at two seemingly insignificant happenings that really struck me with amazement.  To most, or to the average guy standing on the street it most definitely would go unnoticed, simply written off as ‘that’s just the way it is’, but for outsiders, it is a moment of true amazement.

Take the ‘parking guy’ down by the square today.  This particular guy, he works the strip in front of the bank.  I took notice to this guy a while back because he is one of these street guys who actually likes to color co-ordinate his outfits.  Many times he wears bright colored shirts to match his shiny, yellow high tops.  He’s also got his ear pierced three times, which to me, seems odd for a simple guy who bums change by telling you when to ‘whoa’ and when to ‘go’ with your car.

Standing in a doorway, I was watching him hail down cars and direct them into a place to park, as well as helping them pull away and drive off.  In between his commandeering duties, he lugs a bucket up and down the line of cars parked along the curb, and pulls one of two dirty rags out to ‘wash’ the selected car.  He’s got two rags, one for the tires and one for the car.  I watch him wash 3 cars, and start to take note of his current system of cleaning.  I glance away to watch some of the people drifting through the square, then look back to the guy washing cars in front of me.  For whatever reason, I was just watching him dip his rags in to the bucket of dirty water, and he would stand with a somewhat strong and proud stance, and wring a rag over and over, then pop it in a certain way, then lay it on the car if it was not the right rag for the job.  I was amused at the way he wrung his rags and the ‘dance’ he did with them.  As I was watching him do his routine again, I saw that split second moment when it all pays off.  He cleans the tires, and then drops the rag into the bucket.  He takes the other rag and wipes off the windshield and hood, then drops it into the bucket.  He leans over, grabs rag number one and rings it out over his bucket.  He leans over grabs his second rag and does the same. 

He doesn’t drop the rag back into the bucket though.  He reaches up and removes his hat.  This is not part of the routine…what is he doing?!  I cannot believe what I see.  He takes the dirty rag he was just washing either the tires or the car with, and starts to wash his face.  He wipes it over his head, then his brow and then rubs carefully under each eye, then his chin. Did he just do what I think he did? Yes, he did.  That filthy rag, used to wash at least those 3 or four cars I saw him do, was dipped back into the septic water and though wrung pretty good, used to cleanse away the dirt and grime on his face.  I suppose replacing dry grit and grime with pre-used, wet filth is refreshing in an odd sort of way.  I am guessing this what a Mexican on the street does, and to others…nah, no big deal.

The other incident which made me shake my head occurred the previous night.  We had to go and eat out because the maintenance guy at the house forgot to turn the water on.  Of course, we had no idea until it came time to cook and…the faucet handle is turned and we stand staring at absolutely nothing.  “F*ck it. We’re eating out”, was the simple statement Tonya said as she shows me the faucet that does nothing.

It is dark, and we are driving up one of the main streets in the neighborhood.  It should be no surprise at the fact that the size of streets varies wildly here. A single street can easily stretch and squeeze, drastically changing its appearance and accessibility within a few short meters.  This particular street we have to slowly drive up is an old stone street.  It is not big enough for two cars to pass.  If you come head to head with another car, one of you must pull over hoping your mirror doesn’t get crushed against an old stone wall, and hope that as the other guy passes, his mirror doesn’t hit you either.  In most case, when two cars pass, it is done very slowly, and usually one of the drivers has their head crooked to the side on which the pass is taking place, to monitor the delicate move.  What really sucks is when you pull over and wedge yourself into a tight spot to let the oncoming guy pass, and then some chump behind you thinks he will take advantage of the situation, and blast through leaving both you and the oncoming car looking like retards.  Worse still, is when there are a string of cars who breeze through with total disregard to the two original drivers trying to politely make way for one another. Mexico.

The notion of the tight squeeze was nothing new.  It is typical here.  If you drive at all, be prepared for this.  Yet last night was a first.  What happens when two guys and a car all need to share a tight part of the street?  I witnessed this very scenario first hand.  I was the driver.

We are slowly working our way up the dark street.  Bouncing along the old stone road, the headlights catch a figure moving slowly along the wall to my right.  I slow down so as not to make him think I am going to run him over.  He throws a glance over his shoulder to take a quick assessment of how he will allow me to pass and how much time he has.  I spot another face coming towards us, on the same side.  He is walking down the street.  We are all closing in on each other.  The street is lined with big stone walls.  There are no driveways (per say) to step into.  This is like a narrow cattle run we are all in.  I know I can’t do anything so, I slow to almost a crawl, and I watch.

The headlights are providing an impromptu spotlight on tonight’s two stars.  They are watching one another as they get closer and closer.  Each guy is waiting to see what move the other guy will make first, just like an old west gun draw.  They are within a few feet of each other.  I can clearly see the guy’s face that is coming in the opposite direction.  He is looking directly into the face of the guy we are behind.  They both start to slow, waiting for someone to sidestep.  We are now almost stopped as this precise moment occurs.

They are face to face. They both come to dead halt. I am stopped too, with my headlights shining on the squeeze.  For a moment, all is still.  The two guys twitch, each unsure of which way he should move so they can pass, and eventually allow me to pass.  The guy in front of me stands totally still.  He’s carrying something but I can’t tell what it is.  It is the fella coming the opposite way who makes the move.  He looks over the guys shoulder in front of him to make sure I am stopped. He notices the car dead still, and then does an awkward sidestep, as if he is somewhat embarrassed or perhaps conceding he is the weaker for making the move aside.  He skirts passed the guy in front of me, then turns sideways with his back against the wall and scoots slowly passed us.  I start to move slowly, and Tonya utters a very quiet and concerned, “Careful.”

I continue to move very slowly behind the guy on my right.  After a few feet, the street expands only slightly, due to the next house building their wall a bit closer in than their neighbor.  When I say “a bit”, I literally mean a stones width, only inches.  Perhaps a four inch difference.  It is obvious that the guy in front of me is somewhat relieved.  He now has a chance to let me pass, thus proving that he is not actually being followed.  He peers over his shoulder back towards me.  He is smiling.  I see him motion with his hand down by his side, to pass.  I inch up and we see one another face to face.  He smiles, and I do the same.  He too, is almost prone with his back against the wall to allow us to pass.  When we do, both Tonya and I laugh about what just happened.  “Poor guys…no one knew what to do” she says.

That was great.  I thought this was genuinely awkward moment for these two guys passing one another on this dark, tight street.  It was obvious from their actions that they had no idea on what to do because there was a car involved.  We all know the saying about ‘this town ain’t big enough for the both of us’, but now I am taking a new one with me.  This street ain’t big enough for the three of us.  It also just reaffirmed my feelings that I think I like this neighborhood.