on saturday my boss came by, captaining a tour boat through the canal as i sat on its edge, deep in thought. he surprised me by saying my name as he passed, and i looked up and saw him smiling. i smiled and waved, happily.
yesterday, i ran into him before my shift and he asked me, “so what were you doing in the red light district?” i got a little embarrassed and then said, “i live there.”
“you do?” he said. i know they talked about me. i introduced myself to a bartender yesterday who said that she’s heard about me. i was surprised he didn’t already know that fact.
“yeah.” i paused then grinned. i could never keep a secret. “you want to know the real reason i was there?”
“sure,” he said.
“i was watching the building across the street and i was timing this guy. i had him pegged for a 7-minuter.”
“7 minutes!” he said. he sounded incredulous but i couldn’t tell if it was a reaction to my timing guys as they fucked whores or because i only gave him 7 minutes of stamina. “were you right?”
“giving him 5 minutes to take off and put on his clothes, he came out after exactly 12 minutes.”
the green is so much better in california.
but the people are much more colorful here.
yesterday i was paired up with a white american guy. he was squat but solid with a round, shaved head, and wore a gray hooded sweatshirt, baggy jeans and a black cap. he reminded me of the guys who were always on bart around oakland.
we started talking and he was kind of a gruff, but as he opened up, he started talking about his life and his passion. he loves growing weed. he’s lived all over the country but he loved being in humboldt and growing. he loves walking into a room full of vibrant plants, and watching them bear fruit. he’s entrenched in the underground of weed growers and he’s very frank about it being a business like any other, though with more shadowy characters and risks.
he’s staying here because he got caught with quite a big load in the trunk in the midwest. the potential sentence is jaw-dropping. you would think he had heroin or guns or a body in the trunk. so he can only stay here for 3 months before he has to move on, and he believes unless obama becomes president, he can never go back to the states.
if i could go back to the states and live anywhere, i would definitely go back to california. i really loved everything about it, he said in a moment when it was just him and i.
i could tell he was a guy who had dealt hand to hand with life enough to make him tough but proud. everything about him reminded me of a bulldog. but in that moment, as he thought about california, i could swear that i felt his heart beating warmer.