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El CruzandoPort city of Laredo. Motel 6 - the I-35 "North" location, not to be mistaken with "South." His blood was gorged with adrenaline and whatever else mammals produce to propel the physical body through a fight or flight scenario. Undoubtedly one of Nature's more clever devices, he thought, but couldn't it wait until morning? He and his brother had developed quite a talent during the past month of staying up too late under the hypnotic spell of mind-numbing, late-night television, and this night had been no different. Only now, his brother was sleeping soundly while he lay wide awake counting each bar of the red fluorescent numbers on the digital clock on the table next to the bed - 13 of them, 15 counting the colon, and 16 counting the 'am'. "2:37 am." "Damn." He tried to predict the red bars' change every sixty seconds. As they ticked off the lost hours of his precious REM, he was sure the bars morphed into the mischievous grin of the Cheshire cat, and all he could do was laugh. It grinned at him all night as every conceivable thought and emotion invaded his being. "5:30 am", grinned the cat-clock. Accepting defeat, he rose and showered. They arrived at the river early enough to see the thick film of morning haze wake and rise from its night bed below and, after climbing some stairs, they made it onto the bridge by 7:00 as planned. From that vantage, across the wide sky opened by the river below, it was visible in all its glory. Not in newsprint or political oration, but in its context, its environment. The free-trade monster was awake and feeding, digesting what seemed an inexhaustible supply of 18-wheeled vessels transporting consumables from one hand of wealth to another. Beneath its mighty roar sounded the frenzied buzz of smaller creatures led by instinct to survive off the scraps of carnage not fully devoured by the king of this jungle. What was once a river of life was now the monster's personal open-air latrine, from which the olfactory measure of its waste drifted upwards as a palpable, nauseating stench of chemicals and putrid decay. The columns of vehicles passed above, discharging their own toxins, and his nasal linings burned. As he watched from bridge's edge, he could only appreciate the composition of the beast, and he wondered in what ways his life had contributed to its birth and sustenance. He knew that observing the monster in this, its natural habitat, offered a wealth of understanding for those who would remain, but this morning he had other plans. The break of dawn carried somehow more significance that day, maybe because it was the first one he'd experienced in so long. Whether or not it actually held more possibility and excitement, that day he embraced the metaphor. His material life was strapped to his back. It felt heavy and awkward and needy and restricting. He was reminded of distant relationships. "You have issues with intimacy," he was told more than once. "Well, maybe I do", he laughed, "but I'm committed to this partner, and we'll either reach some damn deep levels of enduring intimacy or I'm toast." After a challenging but relatively brief gestation, the moment was finally born. He stood then between his brother to the east and the most perfect final threshold to the west-a turnstile. "50 cents for the world…not a bad deal." He had ignored and suppressed this goodbye for over a month knowing it would hurt, but the luxury of denial had run out. His breaths became shallow and his breathing difficult. His eyes filled with saline. Emotion was rearing its illogical head and beginning to assert itself. The world closed in on him. "Don't crack now. Not in this moment. You'll have plenty of chances for that soon enough." A quick, strong, brotherly embrace. "Turn and walk. Don't look back." He walked along the bridge, river below, sun rising on his back pushing him westward. He passed cars and trucks jammed together in a crawl, and people carrying baskets and large sacks passed him. It was finally real. For the first time in twenty-six years, he had no conception of what the next day would bring, or the one after that. He was across. It had been easy. With eyes wide and with the excitement of a child about to step into Disneyland for the first time, he said out loud, "Buenos dias, Mexico." Twenty minutes later, after almost missing his bus, he also said out loud, "What the hell are these people saying?" |