Fortified by a blueberry muffin and feeling no pain, I leave the courtyard to pass some time wandering around Los Algodones.
I walk along the stalls with no intention of buying anything. It’s enough to look at the large selection of things for sale.
The crowd of shoppers has dispersed, perhaps to dental chairs and vision examining rooms. I’m still feeling sluggish from the extraction, so I make my way back to the courtyard.
I settle in a chair at a small table to wait the remaining few minutes for my glasses to be ready.
“Sue? Is that you, Sue?”
What? Who could know me here?
A pretty, silver-haired woman grins at me.
“You’re RVSue, aren’t you?”
“Oh, for heaven’s sakes! Yes, I’m RVSue.” I jump up and pick my hat off the table and plop it on my head. Might as well be in character . . .
“I don’t believe this!” I exclaim as we hug and laugh together. “I never expected anyone to recognize me in Mexico!”
“Well, you’re a star, Sue.” She tells me her name is Theresa. Her husband walks up and she introduces him to me. His name is Bruce. They’re from Oregon.
Theresa has several scraps of paper in her hands.
“I had a massage this morning. It was great. They grind an elbow into you really hard. I feel so good. And then over there . . . ” She points to a small shop in the back corner of the courtyard. “Over there, I got my hair cut for $8 and I didn’t have to wait or anything.”
Her hair does look very nice.
“Gee, you’re having all this fun, getting things done, and here I am, dragging myself around ever since my extraction. And look at how organized you are!” I point to the little map she holds with notations all over it.
“Tomorrow Bruce is having a tooth extracted, too. We came today to look things over.”
I reassure Bruce that it’s an easy procedure.
He quietly nods and smiles. I can’t help but remark on how well-matched they are.
We chat for a while, I thank them for reading my blog, and we prepare to go our separate ways. Theresa and I spontaneously hug again, happy to have met each other.
Out on the street, I shake my head and chuckle to myself.
RVSue, internationally famous . . .
At the Ja-Bal clinic, Ricardo makes a phone call.
“Do you have the glasses ready for Susie?” He sends Fernando to fetch them. A few minutes later Ricardo cleans the lenses before I try them on. He gives me two eyeglass cases. Satisfied with the fit and the lenses, I thank Ricardo, Christina, and Fernando and hurry out the door.
It’s 2:45 and I want to get to the gate before a line forms.
On the way I approach a woman holding a child in a sling.
Wordlessly I ask if I may take her picture and she agrees. I take the shot above and place a dollar in her basket.
I point to the baby and the lady holds him toward me for another photo. I take the photo, say, “Gracias,” (the only Spanish I’ve uttered all day), place another dollar in her basket, and hurry on to the gate.
I groan at the sight of it.
The line is three and four people wide and it goes on and on and on. I walk the gauntlet to the end.
An hour and fifteen minutes later, I walk through the turnstile, and place my driver’s license and receipt for a pass card on the counter.
The man in uniform asks, “What are you bringing out of Mexico?”
“Two pairs of glasses, ” I quickly reply, forgetting to mention the meds.
He says nothing and motions for the next person in line.
I grab my license and receipt and sprint to the parking lot. Gosh, I never thought I’d be gone this long. Bridget and Spike are probably crazy with worry. I hope they haven’t given Les any problems.
I hurry west on the interstate and motor across the desert.
Immediately I see that the crew did not have a good day.
Bridget is jumping up and down, crying hysterically. Spike is catatonic. Oh, gee . . . this is bad. Chewed up pieces of velcro are scattered inside the pen. Oh, no. She chewed her way out of the pen and escaped. A rod has been pounded into the ground and the pen’s gate wired to it.
Les comes out of his travel trailer.
Les is always cheerful. I note that he has a smile on his face, but there’s something about his eyes . . . .
“I’m so sorry I’m late, Les. The glasses took a long time and the line was long and . . . ”
Les proceeds to report on his day.
“Bridget cried and whined and barked all day long. I took her inside my trailer for a while but it didn’t help. I took her for a little walk and she went pee-pee.”
He takes a deep breath.
“Then I took the old man here (referring to Spike) out to do his business. He peed on his leash. Then he had a terrible time. He’s constipated real bad. Then he didn’t want to go back in the pen. He tried to make it back to your place.”
Quickly I carry the two nut cakes to the PTV, fold up the pen and slide it into the PTV, and apologize and thank Les profusely . . . again.
Les says it was okay, even though I’m sure it wasn’t.
“Well, Les, you know what? If I ever ask you to babysit these two ever again, say no.”
He chuckles. “I’ll do that.”
Spike refuses to get up. I carry him far from our camp and set him down in order to force him to walk. Exercise usually gets results, if you get my meaning. He stops on the way back and makes a little progress. By noon the next day, everything has come out all right.
Bridget sleeps in my arms, glued to me the whole night through, as if I might sneak off again. What a crew!
THANKS FOR SHOPPING AMAZON FROM MY BLOG!