Brain Wreck

Dear Natalie,

Oh Natalie, I really miss you. You know I’ve had an enormous crush on you ever since I saw you as a small child in “Miracle On 34th Street”. No, that does not make me a pervert. After all, I was only 7 years old at the time. Give me a break, ok? However, that was the year, coincidentally in addition to the boring socks and underwear, that Santa Claus brought me those subscriptions to Playboy, Penthouse, Gallery, and Hustler magazines. Of course, because I was underage, my father had to preview all these magazines to make sure that the contents were always age appropriate. He was a good dad.

But Natalie, the real reason I am writing this letter is to remind you of all the good times we had together. Who could ever forget all those weekends we spent in Tijuana and later in Juarez and Nuevo Laredo and a lot of other places I can’t even recall for reasons that we both know. Remember Ho Chi Ochoa’s 24-hour Cabrito Restaurant, Yoko Loco Bar, and Oh-Oh-Opium Parlor in Tijuana? Oh yeah, there was a day shot to hell right after breakfast and coffee. I did like the petting zoo that Ho Chi had out back of the building. I didn’t realize ’til later that it was a “Choose Your Own Goat” lunch special. Did you know about that? I guess not, because otherwise we wouldn’t have wasted all those quarters on that stuff we were feeding to the little goats. Ho Chi was a weird guy. I also think that he was apparently not a big fan of Yoko Ono. I did think, however, that his bed-and-breakfast was very charming. I remember that you liked all the frilly touches in there. I admit that it was a bit disconcerting to hear people throwing up in the hallway all night, but the reasonable prices more than made up for the minor inconvenience of watching where we stepped. Such wonderful memories.

And Natalie, do you remember when we stole that brand new Ferrari from old Robert what’s-his-name? I think he was your husband at the time. That was so much fun when the border patrol got after us and we were just shit-faced drunk, and you punched that sucker up to about 180 miles an hour and we left ’em in a cloud of dust, and then later the engine blew up when we were bangin’ across the Sonora Desert. It probably would have been better if there had been some roads through there. Low clearance, Babe! Who would have thought that a car that cost that damn much would’ve been such a rough ride? I think we also kind of voided the warranty when you hit what we thought was a big series of speed bumps just before the engine blew up. Too bad about those illegal immigrants who, fortunately for them, died peacefully in their sleep. I have often wondered if death by Ferrari is considered to be a status symbol for some of our southern neighbors. Anyway, it was also fortunate for us that most of these folks were carrying water. That saved our bacon after the engine blew up and we spent four days walking and wandering around in the desert. I will tell you honestly that when we finally ran up on that Trailways bus station I was pretty damn happy. It was also very fortunate that you sweet talked that old man into giving us bus fare. Well, I say sweet talked. I think the tire iron that you so thoughtfully grabbed while we were jimmying car door locks in the parking lot might have influenced him a little bit. Anyway, it all turned out for the best.

You know, every year on your birthday I go back to the jail in Tijuana and visit with the staff. They all remember you so fondly, even though you did do that projectile vomiting thing on the sheriff that one time. Hey, you were so good-looking you could have peed on his new cowboy boots, and he wouldn’t have protested. I think he might have even liked it a lot. I mean, he thought so much of you that he left me in the jail and took you home with him so that you would have a good night’s sleep in a comfortable bed instead of having to sleep on one of those rough jailhouse cots. What a nice guy. He still has that autographed 8×10 glossy of you on his desk. Remember? You know, the one where you drew the kissy lips on the picture. That was a great move. Got us out of jail without bail. Boy, we sure did have some fun, didn’t we though!
Happy Birthday, Natalie!
Love, George W.