30 Years in a Bowl Of Soup

This is a lunch date with one of Tonya’s old school friends.  If calculations were right, it had been over 30 years since they had seen each other.  Who knows what to expect.  All I keep hearing about this guy is that he was the class clown.  Funnily enough, we will be dining at his sister’s home, who also went to the same school, but was a year behind them.  Tonya is happy to finally catch up.

We don’t know our way around this place, so the sister gives us directions to meet her on the side of the highway.  Easy enough.  We pull up behind and see a hand wave out, so-we know we met our contact.  We follow the car out of town into the countryside.  Down some old dirt roads, and the car ahead of us pulls over and a young boy jumps out, he saunters over to the gate and opens it like it was such a huge inconvenience for him.  We follow in and the young boy closes the gate and is standing there watching the strangers pull in.  We get out of the car and meet the younger sister.  I reach out my hand to the young kid, shake hands with him and say hello.  His twin jumps out of the car and walks over to me, so I do the same.  We greet one another and go inside.

We get a brief run down of the place and watch the kids play in the yard and meet the dogs.  Our  hostess asks if we would like something to drink, “Perhaps a beer?” she asks.  “What?  You only have one beer?” I ask.  She thinks for a second and replies, “No.  I actually only have four, but you can have one…or more if you like”  She laughs at my attempt at dumb humor.  I smile and tell her I am just kidding, I’ll just have what everyone else is having.  A few minutes later the maid comes out onto the back patio with a platter and four glasses filled with orange juice.  As she is handing them out to us, a booming voice spreads over the patio.  Tonya’s old school chum is here at last, and he is making a grand entrance.

He’s tall, thin, a bit aged by the sun and a little pink.  He’s got blond hair and adjusts his cap as he says hello to us all.  He has got a firm handshake, and that is always a good sign.  He lights up when he sees Tonya and she does the same.  The hostess tells us to sit and we all do, while continuing to exchange pleasantries and Tonya and he speaking 100 mph in Spanish.  This is the class clown, this is Eric. He’s a ball of energy and is definitely charming.  He likes a good laugh too.

The maid brings out some food.  She sets down a bowl in front of each of us of some sort of orange soup. My first thought is that whatever kind of soup this is, it does not go with orange juice. I have no idea if it is hot or cold, but it looks good and I am starving.  I take a bite and it’s warm and creamy, and I am about to ask if it is squash soup when Eric says, ‘Oh-this is some great carrot soup” It was.  It was very tasty.  Eric eats like a farm hand, he cares not for any lofty mannerisms, he just leans over, grabs his spoon and gets into it, talking as he slurps and laughing when need be, all the while dipping back into the soup.

“So, Eric, what have you been doing all this time, how is everything?” Tonya asks.  No one knew that this was carte blanche to get all that has happened to him in the last 30 years to be detailed over soup.  Still, he starts and does not finish for a long while.  Its OK, it’s very entertaining.

Eric starts his story with leaving school, and the last time Tonya and he saw one another.  He went to Europe to study German.  He met an Italian girl.  His dad said you don’t study German in Italy, so you cannot stay there.  Thinking out the situation, Eric got a place in Austria and his girl was over the border in Italy. Doing this he made his dad happy and was able to see his girlfriend. ‘I didn’t study German though, I spent all my time with my girlfriend in Italy” he confessed.  He told of the time spent there and he adventures in America after he left Europe.  He returned back to Mexico City for a brief stint and then found himself in Monterrey.

“I wasn’t doing anything and I had no formal training for anything.  I had been bumming around and now I had to find a job” he said.   There was this guy who was at all the parties around town.  He made purses.  He designed and had the purses manufactured.  One day, Eric ran into the guy while out and about and the guy was bragging about how all he did was party and gets paid.  He joked to Eric, “You should come work with me!”  Of course, Eric took it serious.  He thought doing nothing and going to all the parties sounded pretty good.   He took him up on his offer, and thought that if the guy was making good money doing nothing, Eric could make more money by actually doing something in this new found venture.  He was right.  The business started booming and Eric ended up taking over the whole company. “I had no idea what I was doing.  I would see something and sketch out a few ideas, and then tell someone else to make it.  I had a whole factory making all these purses” he laughs, “and business was great!”  Of course, after a few years of purse making, he decided he had had enough.

“I still have some of those purses in my closet” his sister says

Eric sits back and puts his spoon down, “Really?  Leave them there!” and he bursts out laughing.  He shrugs his shoulders and with a mouth full of soup admits the same, “I still have loads at my house too”

His story is inter-spliced with the obvious additions of romance, which is usually a factor of someone moving from one place to another.   ‘After I left the purses, I had made some good money.  I wanted to do something different…so I bought a dump truck”  This was totally unexpected and gets a good laugh from everyone.  He realizes that he is rolling along at a quick pace and looks at us and says, ‘What is this?  Thirty years in a bowl of soup?  I am about halfway done and I have to finish my whole story by the time the soup is gone?”  We all laugh again and Eric hams it up with an exaggerated motion of spooning soup up.

“This was a huge mistake.  Every time I tried to drive this damn dump truck, I had a flat.” He starts laughing remembering the hardships, “Seriously.  I could barely go a few blocks before one of the tires blew out.  I have no idea why this kept happening, but it did.  It sucks being on the side of the road trying to change a big dump truck tire, have you ever tried?” he asks knowing that none of us have. Still, it is a funny thought.  It seems that people around town were taking notice of Eric and his bad luck dump truck, because one day as he finished up changing a tire, he was approached by a guy who had seen him around.  The stranger proposed a deal for Eric.  They were bidding on building some highways around Monterrey and Saltillo, and they needed a guy with a dump truck.  They had seen Eric and thought he would be a good candidate.  The stranger asked Eric if he knew anyone good with explosives, because they were going to be doing a lot of demolition.  “Hey man!  This was great!  Forget about driving the dump truck, I wanted to blow things up!  I said yes immediately and soon left the driving to someone else.  I started learning about explosives and we were having a ball out blowing up mountains all around Monterrey.”   He then tells some details about how they did certain things, and that he actually ended up helping to build the major highway that runs down through central Mexico, all the way into Mexico City…the very same one we drove to come down here in the first place.

Once again, after all was said and done, Eric had completed his tasks and had pockets full of money.  The road ended in Mexico City, and he found himself in his hometown again.  On a high form the huge task just finished, he and his cronies tried to get some contracts to finish up building highways the rest of the way through the country.  Times had change, and in typical Mexican fashion, no one could get on the same page.  Before too long, all hopes of building were lost and he was left wondering what to do. 

I had to ask the obvious.  With doing all the work in Monterrey and up through some of the badlands, did he run in to any troubles with the drug lords.  No, he didn’t.  “I know many of them and they know me.  We had deals and would do favors, but I never asked questions and they never bothered me.  He tells of certain areas around where the lords live and where they put their families.  No one dare bother anything in the area.  They are all untouchables-and you dare not ask questions.  You treat one another like normal people, and with plenty of respect.  Of course, when a stranger comes up to you and offers to buy your land for a few million dollars in cash, paid all in $20s, you don’t have to think too hard of how they can get that money and who is behind it.  At the time the roads were built, it was not near as out of hand as it is now.  Things were bad then, but now he says he wouldn’t take on the job because of the dangers.

With money saved up and a romance at hand, it was time to settle down and start a family.  He decided to head back into the central part of Mexico and settle down.  Mexico City was too much for him and he had enough.  “I had no idea what to do now, so I thought I would start building houses”  he laughs again at how absurd it all sounds, but it is true.  I don’t recall the exact number, but I think it is easily over 40 homes that he has built in his time here.  He says that he has just finished another large project and is actually getting into the wedding business.  “ I wouldn’t live anywhere else” he says proudly, “Anything you want to do you can do it here.  Anything you want to be” and he puffs his chest out and laughs, “I mean…look at me man!  Now weddings!”

Eric then goes off on how you meet the strangest people here…people who never could imagine meeting.  He says in their own countries and regular daily lives, many of these people would never cross paths.  They are untouchable millionaires, tycoons, entrepreneurs, producers and all sorts, but they all come here to get away from it all.  They come here to be normal people.  He laughs and says, “Yes…it is a sunny place for shady people”.  He puts his spoon down because he needs a lot of space to tell this whopper.

“Hey man, listen…this is what happens” as he spreads his arms open wide as if he is clearing the air. “I was just walking through town a while back and I hear some one call my name.  I stop to see who it is and this little guy comes running over with his hand outstretched. I didn’t recognize him” he says as he leans back in his chair as if he is recoiling. “It was this little guy, who looked all ratty. He had this haircut which was kind of like a mohawk but it wasn’t.  It made no sense, and it was long in the back. He looked like some drug addict” and he points to his bottom teeth, making his speech a bit slurred, “and he had this stupid diamond in between his two bottom teeth, right here”  He leans back and waves his hand as if something stinks.  “You wouldn’t believe this guy”  This guy says he wants him to build a house for him.  He tells him all these elaborate ideas he has and asks how much it will cost.  He says he has a friend who will help design a special ‘casita’ for his daughter too.  He quotes a price, and the guy agrees.  They set a date to start and get the property squared away. 

Eric gets a call from the future homeowner who is barking down the line all excited, “Hey Eric.  Let’s meet and discuss some plans about my special casita.  My friend is here…you know the one who is designing it.  Let’s go have some beers and go over the plans”  he said he had no idea what to expect, but gave in to the pressure and agreed to meet.  “I mean…this guy, he’s a complete mess.  He looks like he’s all strung out, his wife has left, he’s telling his sob story and now he thinks his buddy is going to design a special little home for his daughter?”    They meet up and do the civil thing; chat and drink.

After plenty of talking and drinking, the ratty guy turns to his friend and says, “Hey man, come on.  Get your pencil and paper out and show him what we’re thinking”  Eric sits back and stares at the table as if he is watching someone draw.  He slowly raises his eyes and they are bright white. “You know man, I could not believe it.  This guy pulls out some paper and starts drawing. He is going and going and it is really weird stuff” he stops and rubs his eyes, and blinks again as if trying to reconnect with reality, “I could not believe what I was seeing” and he looks at Tonya and slaps her on the arm, “I mean, this stuff was all far out and magical.  You know, he was drawing all this middle earth stuff and hobbit junk…yeah, like a hobbit home!  You know who this guy was?” he asks as he leans over the table.  “I was thinking I was drinking too much watching as this guy sketched this all out like it was nothing.  I was thinking it looked like a Yes album cover” then he leans over and tries to pop me on the arm, “Ay, cabrone, it was that Yes stuff!  This was the guy who drew all those album covers buey, This was Roger Dean sitting with me drawing up plans for this new house!”  Eric sits back and laughs raising his arms upwards like a revelation.  He pulls his sweaty cap off his head and scratches it and quickly sets the dirty hat back on his head.

“Can you believe it?  Here!  I am sitting here drinking with this guy Roger Dean!”  He goes on to tell the full story about Roger’s friend, the ratty guy.  His name is actually Mike or Michael.  He was some hotshot record producer form the 70’s.  He did a few hit records early on and he and three of his business chums decided they wanted to buy a schooner.  They all pitched in their big LA pay, and buy a big old wooden schooner, ‘Old style” Eric emphasizes.  ‘They bought this boat and decided to sail to Thailand and back to LA.  They did it four times.  Each time they did it, they loaded it up with dope!!!  Can you believe it?  Some big record producer making all this money, buying a boat and smuggling dope back from Thailand!  That’s crazy!  Anyway, the fourth time back, they got busted.  Mike lost everything, his job, his wife, his family broken up…everything.  He did jail time too.  He managed to hide a few million, and when all was said and done and he got out of jail, he came down here to get away from it all.”

This is the point he is trying to make.  You can never guess who you meet here.  It is a small town with big egos.  Everyone blends together and you rub elbows with people form all corners of the globe and form all walks of life.  More to the point, Eric’s bowl is empty.  Time is up.  He had to get us all caught up with what had transpired in 30 years by the time our appetizer was done.  “That’s it!  Thirty years.  My soup is gone!”