Sorry about the adds, the sponsors own me, remember? But then aren't all of us really just slaves and indentured servants bound to someone or something? Or else we live life on the run?
In those days we spent most of our time on the run as we went from border town to border town always trying to get back across the border to get away from whichever country was chasing us at the time, all the while pouring through our savings as if it were spoiled vegetable juice. It was rare that we spent more than a single night in the same place. Despite the fact that many writers try to romanticize what it's like being on the lam, there's nothing really romantic about having to hide from the law no matter what country you're in. Especially when you're spending your nights with a vegetable instead of a warm blooded body.
Then there was that one little Mexican village I'll never forget. Of all the places Veggie and I ever went, no place on Earth will remain as much a part of my memory as the few weeks we spent there. It was near the Pacific Ocean somewhere on the peninsula of Baja Sur, near the town of Rosarito. For the life of me I cannot recall the name of the village, but you can bet I'll never forget the woman I met there. Let's see, I think her name was Margarita...
Margarita
Margarita is a girl I know
with legs so long and tan,
lips so sweet, and skin so soft
she's too much for one man.
Last time that I saw her
she was waving me good-bye.
If it wasn't for our special drink
I might forever cry.
Gather up some Triple Sec,
Tequila, Salt, and ice.
Freeze your glasses for a while
'til the frost is in plain sight.
Salt the rims, combine the stuff
with lime juice and some ice.
Mix it in the blender now.
I'm sure you'll think it nice.
If you see her, tell her please,
I've waited for so long.
Down at the cantina
they're playing our love song (Margaritaville).
Tell her how I miss her so.
No one does it quite like her.
No one does it quite like her.
When she makes Margaritas
she makes my poor heart stir.
"What's this? Has our scribe, the Rebel Poet Laureate, found himself a girl? On that actually talks and isn't made of vinyl? I wonder how much she charges? You don't really think she fell for one of his mushy love poems, do you? What kind of woman would fall for that? Oh well, maybe if she's still in junior high school, but this girl was all of sixteen if she was a day. Y'all stay tuned for more. Adious Amigos."
I'll never forget Margarita. I still remember her saying to me, "Billy, you no can stay in Mehico. You gonna be big, important gringo someday, write big important book. You no can drink your life away wit me in run down cantina, in run down village wit me. You got tings to do wit your life. You no time for no wife. Like © Nike say, Just do it."
How she got the © to come out of her mouth I'll never know but then the girl did have talents you can't even imagine. And Veggie and I were Still On The Lam.
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