Episode 2: Oh what a night

The year is 2001, the news tells us the world is not the same since September 11th, yet in Monterrey, Mexico red lights are still a suggestion, green salsa is still more spicy than red salsa, and ‘bike path’ actually means ‘dump your appliances here’.

Bert and I are well into our teaching stint having discovered a lot about ourselves and still more about the lifestyles of Monterrey’s elite (yes, having cosmetic surgery is an appropriate excuse for missing an exam). And despite all logic, despite all our wishes to the contrary, every once in a while we would crave Americana…we should have known.

That morning started as any other. We went to our respective classes, I expounded on the finer points of Oedipus Rex, Bert partially differentiated whatever it is that one differentiates but in our minds, one thought ‘thank god it’s Friday’. Indeed that very night we were planning dinner at TGIF.

Off we set in our 1989 Nissan Sentra (the economy model with only one side-view mirror) puttering along the roads on Monterrey:

‘Oops Bert, I think that was our turning’
‘No problem I’ll just pull a huey’ (huey is Bert speak for u-ey)
‘Bert why are those guys waving at us?’
‘I don’t know Jaime, I’ll pull over and find out.’
‘Um Bert, I think they’re cops…oh hey I guess that big sign means ‘no u-turns’”

Enter Bert…stage left…trying to make friends with the police man, joking (in very halting Spanish) about how next time he shouldn’t stop because they couldn’t catch him on foot…the translation apparently came out as a threat. But you don’t have my license plate on file so you’d never find me…apparently the explanation didn’t come out right either.

Enter Jaime…stage right…I’ve seen this on tv, we have to bribe the cops. Jaime, never the most subtle of creatures, pulls out her purse and starts counting money in plain sight, waving it around for all of Monterrey to see. Turns out you’re not supposed to do it that way! The poor distraught police man hurriedly shoves me back in the car and hands me a little black folder. Is this my ticket…hmm it appears to be empty…why is the cop rolling his eyes at me…should I give it back…he doesn’t appear to want it…Ohhhhhhh now I get it, in goes the money, out goes the folder. And with Bert finally convincing the Monterrey Police that no, he wasn’t intending to lead them all on a high speed chase through the local kindergarten playground, we head on our way.

There it is, TGIF! We pull in to the parking lot and jump out of the car. We race into the restaurant and are told…
‘You didn’t enter right, could you please go out and come back in again.’
‘Pardon me?’
‘Can you please come in again.’
‘I’m sorry did we use the wrong door?’
‘No but we weren’t ready for you.’
‘Oh are you not open yet?’
‘We’re open but we’re filming a commercial and you’re a good couple for the welcome scene. Do you think maybe you could walk in more slowly this time and maybe hold hands.’

So there you have it, bet you didn’t know that Bert and I are actually stars in a local Mexican television commercial for a huge American chain.

Anyway, the night is starting to seem weird when all of a sudden all these girls in Finlandia (yes the vodka) tube tops come jogging in…It’s Finlandia night! Here have a t-shirt and a hat, and a couple of hand towels. Now if you don’t mind could you pose with the Finlandia girls, it will make a great picture for our promotional flyer. Ummm, ok. Thanks for the free stuff.

Bribing cops, TGIF commercial, Finlandia girls, wow what a night. But wait…what’s that sound…an announcer: ‘tonight is the Monterrey regional finals of the Mexican bar-tending competition’.

So there we were, dressed in Finlandia paraphernalia, eating our cheeseburgers and fries amongst a backdrop of flashing mixers, flying shots, and sliding glasses, while being serenaded by the Finlandia girls who I’m sure were just too shy to ask for the autographs of the new stars of the very, very, very small screen.

And as Bert started the car at the end of the evening, the slightly newer than 1989 radio sputtered once before tuning in to the crooning sound of…Oh what a night, late December back in ’63…