My day began the right way, on the steps of the 'Y' hotel. Again a northwesterly massaged my lungs with a little coffee for a pick-me-up. In front of me, the City National Bank was having its scaffold removed. For over six months, the bank tried to create a new image. Banker's Corner also has the B of A and Union Banks. It is in the American Plaza area.
With a coffee in my right hand, I enjoyed the circus in front of me. Over twenty Mexicans carried the wood from the scaffold down to the one below them until another placed boards on the cement floor. It was precision as each man sang the Mexican song Blow the Man Down sung in Spanish. (Many come on the Blue Trolley for work.)
Again no clouds and a bright sunny day told me to put more sun screen on my nose, ears and the top of my head. The midday San Diego sun hits you at eleven o'clock since it is closer to the Ecuador. A Kaiser skin doctor told me a fortune could be made with ear protectors.
A young hairless man tried to negotiate the steps. I cuddled a conversation with him.
"Tell me what you drank last night. I wish to copy you tonight."
"Two quarts of pure vodka. Yes-sir, two quarts." He tripped but made it to the 'Y's entrance hall. The other hairless one below me quipped a few more words and I responded.
"It is my birthday this Sunday. I will be celebrating with a trip to see my grand daughters, Summer and Spring."
"How old are you?"
"75, yes 75."
'Don't jive me. Why do you look so young?"
I can't afford Vodka. But seriously, I gave up booze for dance many years ago. I take lessons every week in Balboa Park.
At the point, Frank invited me to breakfast at the Grand Cafe, inside the Y.M.C.A. A year ago I would have refused but found the young man needed company. Besides, my 75th would be tomorrow. How I stayed alive and coped with asthma and high blood pressure I will never know.
"Let's sit at the bar." he begged. He ordered a breakfast burrito and not to disturb him ordered the same with chili.
"Do you serve vodka here?" he inquired to the waitress.
"Sure do."
Frank gulped down the first shot. He showed me a picture of his girl friend's license. "I took her license after she threw my cell phone out the 'Y's window and punched me in the face. I called the police and he wrote it up.
I wondered why the 'Y' still provides no security. I saw a girl last night threaten to jump from my floor. She waved to me from the outside fire escape. The waitress gave him another. Without interrupting him, I will summarize his story to save time and boredom.
"My head was blown up by a mine in Fallujah. I had been taking electric shock treatments at the V.A in San Diego every other day. It screwed up my memory...I even was arrested and thrown into a T.J jail. They hate gringos there. They did not feed me for two weeks. I lost twenty pounds."
"I hitched up after 9/11. I had served four years now in the Army and get a $2000 dollar disability pension. Mom has Pancreatic cancer. I have my own apartment in Scranton, Pennsylvania, where I was born. There is nothing to do but watch our local team. It is a New York farm team."
"I lift weights and do a lot of mountain climbing. I was religious until the war. I saw too many heads cut off by those bastard Talaban or whatever. They don't care about life. I killed many with my hangrenade rnade throwers."
Well Frank, got to go now. Remember the closer you get to God, the less Vodka you will need.
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