“Allison, I tell you. If you ever decide to get rid of this bastard I’ll take him. I mean I never had any faggoty tendencies in my life, but I LOVE this guy. When you are done with Matthias I’ll marry the son of a bitch!”
George is our landlord. We are renting a bungalow on his property in Cuernavaca for our month long stay. He’s a lawyer, a gambler, a drinker, says whatever the fuck is on his mind and not afraid to start drinking in the morning. We found him on a Yahoo Group. Matthias called him before we left for Mexico to ask him about the place he had for rent. We were interested in seeing a few pictures, and George answered “Let me sober up and I’ll send you some pictures.” A few days later we had them (although I’m not quite sure he ever truly sobered up). When we arrived in Cuernavaca and saw his place we knew we wanted to stay. George and his wife Ines are very kind and helpful, their property is BEAUTIFUL and George is quite a character.
George was born in Latvia around 1940. His mother left his sister behind and took him to Germany with one goal: survival. They survived the raids in Dresden before they immigrated to the United States. He grew up in Chicago, joined the army and served 3 years in Panama. Eventually became a lawyer (not one of the discerning types) who ended up defending the Chicago mob amongst other unsavory characters. This guy lived a life and half by the time he was of age and has enough stories to fill a lifetime.
Being around George is hard in one respect and that is keeping the potty talk in check with our kids. Fortunately his swearing and the random kid comments seem to fly right pass one another. I don’t think I’ve heard one fucking sentence from George without a god damned swear word. He refers to all women as “broads” (myself included) and is lose with the N-bombs and not-so-endearing terms to Asians that rhyme with the word “clink.” He speaks freely of the various periods in his life in the US Army, marriage to his first wife (a bitch) and his whoring around. He definitely loves to talk about his penchant for pussy (which he refers to as “doing the bungi-bungi”). He drove us all to his favorite restaurant in Cuernavaca and this guy walked in with (according to George) a whore. “Well if that ain’t a fine piece of ass than I’m a fucking monkey’s uncle.” He brought his own cooler with booze to the restaurant. After downing about 4 rum and cokes in ~90 minutes, he made himself a 5th, placed it in the cup holder between himself and the passenger’s seat and drove us home. Drinking and driving is taken much less seriously in Mexico, and I know he’s had practice at it. I was a bit nervous of George driving down the long windy road and sending the car off the cliff into the wooden ravine, but only in theory. Once we got into the car he re-assured us “Man I know this road by memory. I could drive this shit with my fuckin’ eyes closed.” When we got home “Well, did I drive you drunk home safely? Ha ha!” When got out of the car, everyone retreated to their separate quarters, that is until George came back to our bungalow with more rum and OJ, plopped himself on our couch and told stories for another couple hours.
But he really loves Matthias. I think he is bored here and missed his connected life in the states. He told me seeing Matthias in the prime of his life, full of piss and vinegar was “like a breath of fresh air.” Even as liberal as Matthias is, and George as conservative as he is (he has no room in his life for a liberal president, and certainly not a black one), they got along. George had 2 bitches (he really means he had 2 girls) with his first bitch (he really means wife). After years of whoring around he let her keep everything and picked up and left. Later down the road he paid for their college education, and it now does NOT sit well with him that they went out, did the bungi-bungi, got knocked up and are sitting on their asses wasting their education. He’s mentioned many times that he wanted boys, and seeing Matthias with so much life left to live and with three healthy boys must remind him of a good period in his life. The ex-pats he knows here are all bitching about their physical ailments and/or dying. You don’t hear that kind of whining out of George. He’ll tell you getting old is a bitch, but it stops at that.
Yesterday George said he would give us a ride in the morning because he wanted to see where our kids are going to summer camp. Camp starts at 8:30, we walked into George’s house about 8:10, he put his beer down on the table, grabbed his keys and we were off. He also offered to pick us up, and at 2:00 PM sharp he was standing outside the kid’s summer camp on the street, a huge smile on his face and beer in hand, ready to take us to our next outing – a small pueblo 30 minutes from Cuernavaca called Tepotzlan. On our way back we made a quick stop at his casino to collect his winnings and lay down another bet. It was a really nice afternoon.
Today Matthias left and George was happy to give us a ride down to the bus station. When we said goodbye Matthias even got a hug out of George, and I think that George is not a hugging type of guy. I think he was genuinely sad to see Matthias go, or on the other hand, he might have had to hit the casino again anyway, so it was on the way. I guess we’ll never know.