What do you think of me?

Two young womyn approach the truck as I am cooking. It is dark so I cannot see them but I have the door open and the light on. One is Anabel, the other Catarina. They are friends and tell me they are 22 years old.

Neither womon speaks English – like my Spanish – so we have a good time trying to understand each other. I invite them in for soup – my yummy veggie curry lentil & rice soup – and neither of them like it. Just when I’m thinking, too healthy for them, they pull out their packaged chocolate chip ahoy cookies, trident chewing gum, and little square candies.

They are trying to ask me something. I finally am so happy I can figure out they want a ride somewhere close by to get a jacket – the weather has changed & it is chilly. I have 2 hours to wait anyway and I’m up for going somewhere new.

We get in the truck and proceed several blocks away. Anabel waits in the truck with me as Catarina jumps out and leaves. I think Anabel is worried I will take off without them.

At one point, Anabel asks me what do I think of her. I am torn, as I want to make a joke but I think we don’t understand each other well enough. So I seriously tell her the Spanish words I know for beautiful, kind, smart, funny. I add in English “I hope you are not selling your body and I hope you are not taking drugs.”

I do not translate into Spanish. Catarina’s 5 minutes have stretched into 15 but Anabel and I are laughing and having a good time trying to communicate, which her learning English and me Spanish. Finally Catarina returns but is not ready to go. She runs up the street to the gas station and returns in a few with a bag of more junk.

We return to where I met them by the Gay Bar. By now I see there are lots of womyn walking the streets – womyn like my 2 new friends. I invite them to come with me to Secrets but they say they are meeting some other friends. We part.

At Secrets, I admire the décor – it is DEFINITELY a gay boy scene, with really loud humping music, colored lights swirling around, several sofas that only gay boys could pull together, tall aluminum modern round tables surrounded with equally tall chairs.

There are hardly any people there when I arrive – certainly no other womyn accept the one working the door. I have gotten there to early – 9pm. Maria and her girlfriend are supposed to meet me between 9:30 and 10.

No one is dancing, although the dj is certainly playing great dancing music. I have a conversation with Jorge’s partner John, in English – he is bi-lingual. He really wants to watch ‘the’ fight – as everyone there does.

I get some water from the bar and pick out a sofa far away from the smoke as I can get. And wait. By 10:20pm I decide to go ‘home’, back to my truck. I cannot stay in this neighborhood – it is full of police, flashing lights, and hookers.

When I get back to ‘my’ parking spot, the streets are loaded with cars and the bars are overflowing with people. I see and hear ‘the’ fight as I drive around looking for a place to park.

I end up on the road next to the Holiday Inn’s parking lot. At 4:30am I’m awoken by the sound of a huge motor idling. I think it’s a damn truck so I’m ready to move. When I get out of my camper and into the front of the truck, I see it is a huge bus warming up the engine. I go to ‘my’ home anyway. As I suspected, no one is parked there now and I have the whole side of the street to myself.