Loco and the Albino

Loco, our guide in Puerto Barrios. He is loaded.


Eduardo's brother is called Loco. I am hoping it is one of those nicknames like tiny when the guy is huge... you know. But as we drive away from the airstrip, I am thinking otherwise. The old Toyota he is driving has two speed settings... floored and stopped. There is no in between. It is about four miles in to Puerto Barrios, but we get there like it is just down the street. We haven't told him where we are going, but he knows we need a place to stay.

There are several large resorts in the area, and a few hotels. We end up down at the Marina. When the car lunges to a stop, Loco turns in his seat and talks to us... well he talks Lou.
"He says his cousin has a boat we can stay on for two hundred dollars."
"A night?"
"No... the whole time we are here." Lou converses with him for a while longer, then turns to me.
"He says that his cousin will take us anywhere we want to go."
I look at Loco and talk to Lou, "Tell him that we'll check it out, but we aren't promising anything."

The three of us get out and walk down the Marina to a boat slip at the end of the dock. The boats down here are pretty choice. Even the worst looking of them is better than anything I would have expected.
Loco stops in front of a boat that we have already walked past and he shouts a name. His cousin climbs up out of the main cabin of the yacht and gives him a wave. Loco calls us back.
"This my cousin Blanco's boat."
I look at Lou, "Let's hope his English holds out."
The cousin steps onto the dock. The guy is as white as a ghost. Loco leans into the two of us and whispers, "Don't stare at Blanco, okay... he's an albino and it freaks him out."
Freaks HIM out? I take a quick look at his eyes and I swear they are pink like the Easter Bunny.

Blanco doesn't say a word. Loco talks for him, giving us a little tour of the forty foot Morgan sailboat. It is nicely kept for an older boat. I give it a thumbs up, so does Lou. We hand him four hundred dollars and let him know to keep the food and liquor stocked. Blanco nods and smiles showing off some impressive white teeth. If it was a blizzard right now he would be completely invisible.

Loco walks us up to the main Marina complex. With him in his uniform and a shotgun in his hands it looks more like we are under arrest.
"Hey, Loco, why don't you take some time out and go home and change out of your work clothes." I tell him.
"I keep uniforma and gun for your protection. And I get free drinks."
"I got you covered on that one, Loco."
Lou nudges me, "Let him keep the uniform on, man. We don't have to hassle with anyone if he is putting on a show for us."
"Okay then."

It takes all of two seconds for us to recognize the meeting place for tomorrow. "Dominican's" sits on the corner of the Marina near the breakwater. It is a restaurant and bar... mostly bar, that has patio seating for at least a hundred. From what I remember about Puerto Barrios, this restaurant is a little out of this place's class.
Loco tells us that the restaurant was built for tourist's when they come.
"When do they come?" I ask him.
"The boats... cruise ships. They are suppose to put Puerto Barrios on the stops for this."
"In case of what, a hurricane?"

We walk into the restaurant and take a seat near the bar. A man with a thin moustache and a three piece suit comes out and greets us, smiling and nodding at us as he speaks to Loco. Lou says something to him in Spanish and jumps a little. I think he was suprised that we... that Lou speaks the language.
"Yes, of course Senior, we have many selections." He says with an eager smile.
"Selection of what?" I turn to Lou.
"Tequila."
"Oh shit."
Lou looks at Loco, "What is the best tequila he sells?"
Loco smiles, "Muerte Verde, but this is many thousand pesos."
"You let me worry about that." Lou turns to the man, "We'll take a bottle of that and three glasses."
The man's smile thinned a little. "Would you like to start a tab, sir."
Lou pulls a roll of hundreds out of his pants pocket. Normally this would be a bad and bold move to make in a third world country... but it's Lou and he is strapped. "You worried about something, Mac?"
The man's eyes glass over for a moment and then his wide smile returns. He snaps his fingers at the staff that is nearby enough to notice him. Immediately we are surrounded by waiters and water glasses. The tequila comes in a hand blown bottle that resembles a human skull and is ice cold.
"I'm taking that bottle home when we're done with it." Lou announces as he watches the waiter pour. We all hoist our glasses and take the shot. It is as smooth as can be. "Oh this shit is awesome. I hope you have another skull back there 'cause we are going to need it."

Within fifteen minutes we have ordered some seafood, drank half the skull of tequila, and have watched at least fifty people walk through the door. None of the patrons are locals from the looks of them.
"Where did all of these people come from?" I ask Loco.
"The come off the ferry boat, some come from tourist buses. The place here it jumps for the next couple of hours." He looks at me kind of funny, "You know... jumps?" He does a little dance move in his seat.
"Yeah, I know jumps."
Lou and I ordered some of the local lobster and some shark steak that is marniated and then grilled. Loco wanted some pork dish. Not to exotic, but maybe the man is sick of seafood. I love the shit so I never get tired of it.
The tequila is taking it's toll on us. At first it is a word or two that is slurred. Now we are slurred... completely fucked up. I'm glad we ate something. By the time the next skull arrives, I am flying.

"And that is when I learned that monkeys never fart." Lou looks at me... "Did you hear a word I said?"
"I... I dint... I didn't know you're talking to me."
"A whole fucking story and you didn't even know I was talking to you? Where the fuck is Loco?" Lou turns in his seat and sees that Loco has left his shotgun in his chair. He stands,
"LOCO, WHERE IN THE FUCK ARE... "
I tap him on the arm, "There he is."

Loco has two fine looking woman with him. One of them is a little older than the other, but both extremely beautiful. They are not made up, no make up or anything... just beautiful in their own right.
"Whoa... " Lou sits for a moment, then bolts up and drags me with him. Always the gentleman.
Loco presents the ladies. They are bank tellers at the only bank in Puerto Barrios. He tells us their names, but that goes in one drunk ear and drowns in Muerte Verde. It doesn't matter to me anyway. I won't be taking to them... just staring. I am more worried about being too drunk to screw at this point. But Loco will come to our salvation on that front as well.

There is music playing, good music. There are three skulls on our table, one is up to it's eye sockets in Muerte Verde, the others as empty as a politician's. I am the only one here. Lou... is moving like a wounded leopard on the dance floor. It looks like he is moving every part of his body around with his shoulders. Loco, on the other hand, is jumping around... literally. He has been drinking shot for shot with us. Something is up.

I make my way to the dance floor and cut in on Loco and the younger girl he brought for me. She smiles at the chance to dance with me, but I disappoint her when I grab Loco and pull him off the dance floor. She recover's quick enough and starts to dance with Lou and the older girl.

"Loco, you can understand me, right?" I do remember him speaking English earlier in the evening.
"Barely, Senior, cause you are so shitfaced. You know, shitfaced?"
"I know shiftface... I am shitflace. Why aren't you?"
"Why aren't I what, Senior Jake?"
"Shit Faced."
"It is the coca, Senior Jake."
"Well gimme some, Loco."
"I would be happy to."

Loco goes back over to the dance floor and whispers in the ears of the girls, then says the same thing to Lou, who nods his head. Then Loco walks over to the man that had seated us hours ago and speaks with him, also soliciting a nod. Everyone walks back to the table and Lou pours the girls a shot of Muerte. When they are done, he pours the three of us our shots.
"Salute." He tosses his back, as does Loco. I hold mine for a moment, counting the previous shots in my head.
"You... you know John Bonham died this... this way."
"John Bonham was a pussy."
"The hell he was. Damn good drummer."
"Drink that shot, Nancy, so we can go to the boat and sniff some stuff."
Down goes the shot, up I go and we are walking down to the boat. I have a young lady's arm around me, and when I realize this I straighten up.

The Morgan is dark except for a dim light behind pulled shades. Loco says something in Spanish and then gives the window a special little rap... like two short and two long or something like that. We can hear Blanco say something back.
"Okay" Loco tells us, "It is safe now."
"Safe for what?" Lou asks him.
"Safe to come aboard, or Blanco he cut you balls off."
The girls giggle at this.
"Well hell, Loco, what if one of us were to come back to the boat without knowing the little tap code?"
"I don't know. Blanco cut off you balls I think."
"That's just great."
"You just remember the taps... two short two long. Blanco knows this tap."

We all come aboard Blanco's boat and sit in back until he comes out with a small pouch for each of us. It feels like it is full of chewing tobacco. I open mine and feel inside, pinching and pulling out a leaf.
"What is this, Loco?"
"This is coca... from the plant. It is special, really strong. You chew like tobacco. You chew tobacco?"
"No, but I get the picture."
The five of us chew the coca. It is a little bitter, but because of what it will hold we stay with it. By the time we get up and walk back to the party, we are blazing.
"Thanks Blanco." I nod to him on the way off the boat.
"Yeah, no shit, thanks Whitey." Lou says, "Muchos gracias" he adds.

Back in the restaurant, Loco waves his shotgun in the face of a couple of patrons who took over our table and are drinking our Muerte Verde. They immediately see the reasoning behind the twelve gauge pump and leave. Loco ushers the man with the thin moustache and three piece suit to our table and now empty third skull of Green Death. It is refilled, compliments of the house, and we are back on the floor dancing.

My mouth is numb as I chew the coca and dance to band. These guys are good. The young girl is grabbing me by the waist and holding me close, we move together. Lou is doing some form of the Tango or something. He looks like he knows what he is doing. I think he likes her. But then again I get the feeling Lou falls in love at the drop of a hat.

The music rolls on. The sound of bongos and steel drums, of guitar and marimba. The tourists dance with wild abandon. Tomorrow brings the meeting and a rendezvous with Bear. I get the feeling that this will not be as easy as it sounds. But tonight is tonight... and I am feeling the heat of this young woman's body. I get the feeling tonight will turn into tomorrow long before the music stops.