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| Words and photo by F LoBuono |
It was during the war at some nightclub in Mexico City. It doesn't matter which one - there were so many in those days. It was to be a night of dancing with my date, the ambassador's son. We arrived, fashionably late, at the club in the ambassador's chauffeur driven limousine. As we pulled up, I noticed a great deal of excitement about the place - more than the usual. As the attendant opened my door, I asked the young man what was all the fuss about.
He's been released from prison. There's going to be a BIG celebration tonight! He replied.
Apparently, the "he" the attendant was referring to was the head of one of Mexico's biggest crime cartels. He had been released on a technicality. It seems that witnesses scheduled to testify against him were disappearing at an alarming rate. Eventually, the case collapsed and he was released. Tonight was to be his coming home party.
Before we left the car, I sensed danger and suggested to my date that we keep the car running - just in case. He agreed.
Driver, stay close by and keep the engine running, I instructed.
Certainly, miss.
We stepped from the cool night air into the steamy atmosphere and pulsing energy of the club. We secured a good spot not far from the band and near the dance floor.
Two Manhattans, please, my date ordered from our white tuxedo-clad waiter.
As we waited for our drinks to arrive, I noticed the large table nearby. It was packed with people having a good time. And, the center of attention, surrounded by buxom, sweaty women and burly bodyguards, was "the man" himself. Hair slicked back and wearing an expensive suit, if you called Central Casting to send over the archetype of a Mexican Crime Boss, this guy would show up. He was just about to inhale another shot of tequila when our eyes met. He knew that I was watching him, observing his actions. His face broke into a sort of thin, wry smile, a cigarette pursed between his lips. He snapped his fingers and one of his minions brought him a pen and piece of paper. He quickly jotted something down, folded the paper, and handed it back to his assistant. The man bent down for the boss to whisper something in his ear. As the boss spoke, he nodded towards me. It seems he was to deliver a message to me.
The messenger came to my table, bowed, handed me the note, took a step back, and waited for my reply. I unfolded it and read:
The senorita' will dance with me.
I glanced over the note to make sure that he had a clear view of me. I wanted to make sure that he could witness my reaction. I could see that he did, and our eyes met once again. I held the note in front of me and, in plain sight, preceded to tear it into a thousand pieces! The messenger's jaw dropped as the boss's eyes filled with rage. He immediately and violently pushed his chair back. Flanked by two of his henchmen, he charged for our table. Once he reached us, he had the messenger hold back my date while the other two grabbed my arms. The boss pulled a revolver from his belt and placed it tightly under my chin.
The senorita' WILL dance with me. It was NOT a question, he seethed through clenched teeth, cigarette still defiantly dangling from his lips, breath reeking of tequila, the cold barrel of the gun pressing against my chin.
As if in capitulation, I smiled gently and relaxed my arms fighting against his thugs. They released their grip so that I could more easily approach the boss. I continued smiling as I brought my arms up as if to engage him in a dance pose. Everyone was put at ease. I saw my moment. Instead of taking him by the hand, in one quick move I smacked him across the face - in both directions!
POW! POW!
My hand found its mark with devastating effectiveness. The cigarette, once held so smuggly between his lips, flew across the room. It was as if an electric current had shot through the club. In the confusion I saw another opportunity. I yelled to my date.
Let's get the hell out of here. NOW!!
We made a mad dash for the door, trampling anyone and anything that got in our way. The driver had, thankfully, followed my instructions and was waiting, engine idling, nearby. Still only half way into the car, I screamed -
STEP ON IT!!
Looking back for a brief second and seeing the urgency on our faces, the driver threw her into gear and started slinging gravel as he screeched out of the parking lot. I thought that I heard gun shots as we sped away.We were laughing hysterically! I can't say the same for our driver. But, that was a good thing. He drove us, due haste, to safety.
After we felt we were out of harms way, my date looked at me and asked,
Now what do we do?
Well, we wanted to go dancing, so, let's go dancing, I replied.
And, that's exactly what we did. We found another club. There were so many in those days.
In the morning, when we woke, we checked out the car. There were bullet holes all over the trunk.
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