21 Pin up
calendar Eduardo told me he had a telephone number of a man he could call in case a
cycling traveler visited his shop. “The guy is a member of a cycling-organization
that offers cyclists a place to sleep for one night.” I told him
I first wanted to call a man I met in Panama City who’d invited me to call him
when I arrived in El Paso. “In a Bar in Panama City we roughly calculated
the date I should arrive in El Paso and he told me that he probably would be in
El Paso around that date.” It
was around 00:10pm12:10 when
I called the number. Just
when I wanted to disconnect I heard the unmistakable but a little drowsy voice
of John. The John I met in Panama City.
To find out whether he still remembered
me and because I did not know how else to start, my introduction was simple. “Hello John, I’m Peter the cyclist” I did
not give him more information and waited for his reaction. He sounded sleepy and I think he was still lying
in his bed. Still dazed,
he told me, “I remember you darling; I even highlighted
your possible visit on my calendar.” I told him I’d arrived in El Paso, today. “Did you cycle the whole part, that’s great?
To be
honest, I didn’t expect you would ever call,” his reaction was not too enthusiastic. “No problem. At the
moment I am standing in a bicycle shop somewhere in El Paso.
The owner has an address of a cycling
organization that’s offering long distance cyclist a place to sleep. So, again no problem, goodbye and have a
happy life.” “Wait,
don’t hang-up, that is not what I meant, I love unexpected surprises. It will
be a little puzzling because I have a party in my house tonight and probably
not the type of party that you are interested in, but I still offer you a place
to stay. So darling
when you have a half hour I will be there.” “Thanks, I’d love that,” I answered. Looking at the face of Eduardo he had
overheard the conversation because his face showed unbelief.
I told Eduardo that John is 100%
gay, but that John knew I was 100% straight and as long as we both knew that from
each other, there would not be a problem.
It was lunch time and Eduardo invited me for
a coffee at his home, which was next to his shop. “You can
wait there until that guy, arrives” Eduardo
placed several bowls and a stack of indefinable small pancakes on the dinner table. Then he
sat down and invited me to join him for lunch.
“My wife is at her mother’s house
and the children are at school so it’s nice to have some company.” He saw me looking at the food on the table with
a big question mark on my face.
“Yeah, you’re right, you probably
never ate Mexican!” “I have seen those pancakes in supermarkets,
but I didn’t know what it was,” I answered. He started to tell me the story of these flat,
round and tiny pieces of Mexican culture. “These unleavened flat breads have been part
of Mexican culture for thousands of years. In the sixteenth century the Spaniards gave
it the name tortilla when they saw the Aztec in Mexico using this flat bread. So, the word tortilla comes from the Spanish
word ‘torta’ which means round cake. It is made of corn or flour, baked on an
iron plate or a flat stone. Originally the tortilla is about five or six inches
in diameter and is served hot. You
can use the tortilla as a spoon like I do now; you eat your own cutlery which saves
a lot of dishwashing. In
those bowls you will find refried beans, shredded chicken, crumbled aged cheese
and chopped onion. In the other two bowls are chili-pepper sauce and sour cream.
Let me show you how it works. Place small amounts of onion and cheese from
the bowls on one half of the tortilla.
Sprinkle it with epazote. Roll
it with the end somewhat tucked in like a small envelope to avoid losing the filling.
Now you can eat it without using a plate. Serve it
with the hot sauce. The variety of tortilla-based dishes are infinite,
tlacoyos, huaraches, gorditas, quesadillas, envueltos,
dobladas, flautas, memelas,
peneques, tostadas, and molotes.
“ “Eduardo, can you write those difficult names
in my notebook?” I asked him. While I was learning this completely other
way of using and eating food, Eduardo told me the story of his family and why he
was so grateful towards his father. “In Mexico my father did not complete any
formal education. At that
time, in the area he grew up, you had to pay for school and my father's family
couldn't afford it. He was
limited to menial labor and low wages.
As an
eighteen-year-old mozo, my father left his life of poverty in Mexico for the promise
of a new life in the United States in 1959. The hard,
physical work of picking crops in the fields of California, Arizona and Texas, earned
him less than a dollar a day. The Braceros
program, a Farm Labor Agreement between the United States and Mexico, granted
him a work visa and when he finished the program, he began his path to citizenship. Our upbringing was humble, but our childhood was
filled with the joys of love, laughter and strong belief in God. We grew up in a modest, two-bedroom home in
the inner city of San Antonio, Texas. Housing two
adults and eight children my father was still able to create a cozy home for all
of us. For him, this country was a land with endless
possibilities. For the first time in his life, my father had hope, not for himself
but for us. Although we
lived in the city, we were raised to live off the land. Our eggs came fresh every morning from the
chickens we kept in our backyard. We also had
geese, ducks, a goat, a turkey and a pig. Our fondest memories were that of the feeding
and taking care of our animals. One would assume that we lived on a farm. I started getting
positive feedback at school. I was outperforming my peers in English and Writing,
and I was getting recognized by my teachers and classmates. But most of
all I liked working with my hands and especially my love for bicycles started
to grow. All my brothers
and sisters excelled at school. They all finished
the University of Texas in San Antonio. Today we have teachers, public administrators
and even a doctor in our family. I’m the only
one who has his own shop and I am very proud of it. Just like it was for my dad it is very important
for me that my children get a good education.” Sitting at
the table, we could oversee the street and twenty minutes after we called John a white Jeep came
a little over the speed limit in the direction of the shop. The
Jeep stopped abruptly in front of the shop. You could hear the brakes protesting against
the driver. Eduardo
whispered, a Cherokee, awesome! There
was John, a skinny man in a completely blue outfit.
Eduardo and I went outside.
Eduardo, who was standing next to
me, watched this awkward guy with great astonishment. He whispered that he wanted to save me by offering
me an overnight at his family. I laughed and thanked him and told him not to
worry about me, I could take care of myself. We shook
hands and I thanked him for his wise lessons about bicycles and food. He shook his head showing a little disbelief,
but it was still a heartwarming goodbye. John was very busy talking when he escorted me
to his car.
“How do you like my new Jeep, it’s
a Cherokee, wide track, eight cylinders arranged in a V configuration, 4-wheel-drive,
Alpine White with a Blue Chief Levi’s Interior. It did not ring a bell, but I’m not an expert
in car brands and the car was beautiful with a logo of an Indian. Probably a Cherokee
maybe the Chief himself? Because
he was so proud of his car I wrote the information in my notebook. The car was a little too big for John, and I
had to move my seat backwards to be able to sit. It must have looked funny, driver & co-driver,
blue and red, short and tall. John did not notice my big smile he was too excited
and kept on talking.
Within a minute we drove on the I10
in a northern direction while he was telling me about tonight’s party. He told
me that a recurring topic at these parties is the gay calendar for 1981. “I'll tell you more later. It will be great to introduce you to my friends.”
“John, let’s talk seriously.
I need a place to sleep and I need
my rest for tomorrow’s cycling day.
And besides that, according to what
you told me about the party, I would not really feel comfortable as a straight
guy at a gay-party.” It was dead silence for a few seconds.
“That’s an insult Peter, if you think that an orgy will take place tonight
in my home, you’re wrong. If I want to experience an orgy I will go to other
places. My mother,
of seventy-three, is living with me since my father died three years ago. I love
her very much, but she has a strong will, she won’t allow this kind of filth in
her house as she told me loud and clear over and over again. You will
meet her; her name is Dorothy!
The parties at my home are neat with
a hint of naughtiness, no darkroom, no hot sex. We are more a club of gay friends talking about
nice things in life, art, architecture, interiors, fashion, films, perfumes, and
makeup.
The only naughty thing we do is discussing and working successfully on a
gay calendar for already the fourth year in a row. It is only distributed in limited
edition among friends and friends of friends.” Ten minutes after we took the ten
we left it and took the Sunland Park Dr. “Tonight,
we are also talking shortly about the calendar for 1981. For us, it’s a bloody serious
thing and the result must be professional even though we do not have commercial
aspirations. It only costs us money, a lot!
The last time we were together we agreed to
do it a little different than other years, but we do not know yet how.
He went left on the Thunderbird Dr.
and looked at me as he expected a reaction. I was distracted by a mountain view on the horizon.
“That is the Franklin Mountains; from
my terrace I have a magnificent view of this mountain. You will
also meet my friend Carl. He is a fashion designer and we often work together on
the same projects. I do not have an office and work mostly from home or at one
of my customers. Carl and
I do not live together, partly because my mother is living with me, but also because
it probably would end in disaster. We cannot be without each other, but we are
too different to live together.
I would like you to say hello and
join us for a moment, but do not worry, you don’t have to take your clothes off.”
“In which part of El Paso are you living?” I asked with a smile about
his last remark. “I live
in Northwest El Paso located on the west side of the Franklin Mountains. It is a
rather upscale neighborhood.
My guests are all well-educated and
gay, with respectful jobs and each of them will probably regularly visit hot
gay parties, but it’s not a topic we normally discuss with each other.” I lost the
Mountain View and also my sense of direction because John was still talking about
his guests, when he suddenly but slowly drove into a circular driveway. I was immediately
impressed with the grandeur of the town-house in front of me. A double garage
door automatically opened and, as planned, without reducing speed John maneuvered
his car into the garage and stopped next to a Porsche 911 sports car. “I've had this house built two years ago,” he proudly
mentioned. “Before I bring you to the guest room, I will
give you a tour.” A minute later I was standing in front of an
imposing entrance. The brick pillar on my left made it even more impressive. The two enormous front doors which had a dark wooden
frame and a luxurious design made me speechless for a few seconds. Once inside I was standing in a welcoming foyer
with high cathedral ceilings and two large chandeliers. The walls were of a dark brown material which
gave the hall grandeur. Large modern artworks decorated the walls. John led me through no less than three living
areas separated from each other by a door wide opening. All three rooms were oversized,
very comfortable and classically furnished with high wooden beamed ceilings, custom
built mahogany bookcases and rich hardwood flooring. The first room we entered was probably the
main living area and had a big fireplace, a bar and immense sliding doors over
the whole width of the room, with a full view over the terrace and garden. In the center of the garden there was this imposing
Oak tree. This tree
distracted me for a few seconds before I noticed the magnificent view of the mountains
in the background. “That
is the Franklin Mountains I mentioned in my jeep.
In the 16th century,
when Spanish explorers approached the River Rio Grande from the south they
viewed two mountain ranges rising out of the desert with a deep canyon (cliff) in
between.
The mountains you see from this window
are the Franklin Mountains (Texas). The Juarez
Mountains of Sierra Madre (Mexico) are more to the south. The corridor
through this canyon they named El Paso del Norte (the Pass of the North). Because it
was an important corridor for trade it became the location of two border cities,
Ciudad Juárez (Mexico) on the south bank of the Rio Grande and El Paso, Texas,
on the opposite side of the river. Actually,
the original name of El Paso is El Paso del Norte but the official name is
El Paso”
Without asking I already got all
the stories of the neighboring cities! When we passed the living areas we entered the
dining area which was spacious and intimate for two or twenty. Via the dining area we arrived at a huge
kitchen with stainless steel appliances, built-in storage cabinets and a beautiful
breakfast area. Like the living rooms this room also had vaulted
wood beamed ceilings. The room was surrounded by windows. Looking outside
I saw a fantastic backyard with a large playground area and in the background the
city. The house had
a bedroom wing with four large bedrooms. The master
bedroom accommodated, beside a king-sized bed, a luxuriously furnished sitting area
with its own fireplace, walk-in closet and modern bath, double sinks, jacuzzi
tub and extra shower. There was a
second master bedroom that also had a fireplace, office, study, small kitchen
and a maid’s room which included an bathroom with sunken bathtub. Two other bedrooms (the blue and red bedroom)
were at the end of the wing both with their own bathroom. John told me to put
my belongings in the left (blue) room. He also
showed me a utility room and an extra storage room before we went all the way back
to the foyer. Back at the location where the tour started, we
took a small elevator to a floor above the garage. “This is
my mother’s domain,” John explained. One floor higher we left the elevator and entered
a small hallway. John knocked
at the only door I saw. The door immediately opened and an old, fragile
lady with a friendly smile took my hand and pulled me into her apartment. “I was
waiting for you, John told me all about you. Call me Dorothy
please, not madam!” This apartment had the same luxury as the rest
of the house. She invited me to have a seat in a chair near
the window which had a nice view over the mountain and asked me if I would like
a cup of tea. “Around this time, John and I always drink a
cup of tea together.” John took a chair next to me and a little later
Dorothy came in with a tray and three cups of tea and three nice homemade cookies.
John told me the cookies were called Texas Cow Chips. Everything’s
bigger in Texas and these cookies were no exception. They were
crispy on the edges and chewy in the middle. While we enjoyed the Texas Cow and the view outside,
mother and son asked me to tell them about my trip. Around three o’clock John suggested to go downtown. “My mother
needs a new suit and at the same time I can show you downtown El Paso and we can
visit a very good restaurant where we have our dinner.” “First I’d
like to take a shower and replace my red cycle pants with a clean pair of pants,”
I told them. In my blue
room on the wall next to the mirror and above the dressing table I found the pin
up calendar of which John had been talking about. I scrolled through the months
and saw thirteen completely naked men. The thirteen
naked men had attractive bodies and pretty faces but they did not turn me on. I had nothing
of the feeling I had when I saw Virginia from
the Bourbon Street in New Orleans. At four we
left the driveway in the direction of the city. John drove
us to a parking lot downtown and a little later we entered an exclusive fashion
store. We stayed there for more than an hour. His mother bought a nice skirt and blouse from
a top designer Bill Blass and looking at the price, they paid a lot for his name. Around dinner
time John and his mother led me to a surprisingly simple looking restaurant at
least from the outside. Inside it
was a completely different story. The interior
was more than luxury alone, and the public at the restaurant was the upper-class
of El Paso. The menu
card did not show me the prices, but I was sure that the “creations” this top restaurant
was serving were not the one I could afford. My hesitation was too long to stay
unnoticed and John understood my dilemma. “Don’t worry about the prices Peter, you probably
cannot even afford an appetizer. Dorothy always pays for the dinners when we are
in this restaurant. She does not like the whole process of asking
for the bill and paying so she allows the owner to take it from her account automatically.
But she is not naive, the amount they can take
is limited.” John and
Dorothy were the type of people who want to have the full attention of their guest.
For this reason, I completely forgot to write down the name of the restaurant. Around eight we were back at John’s house and
John told me his friends should drop in around nine. Dorothy invited
me to her apartment to play a board game. John asked me if he could excuse himself for
a while because he would like to take a shower before his friends arrived. John
explained the planning of the evening. “During
the first part of our gathering we only allow members, but I hope you will join
us for an hour after the formal part is done. Via a handshake we sealed our arrangement. Dorothy asked
me if I was familiar with Rummikub. I was surprised
to hear this name, but I was not sure whether it was the same game I’d played once
with friends in my home-country. She showed
me the game and I knew immediately that it was indeed the same game. However, maybe the game rules were different.
I asked
her to tell me the rules, so I could find out if they were the same. “Let me first get us some drinks.”, she said A moment later
she came back with two glasses of wine. She took
the game and placed around hundred tiles on the table and started to explain. “A few
years ago, it was a bestselling game in
the United States. As you
can see, it is a tile-based game and you can play it with two to four players. There are 104 numbered tiles in the game, valued
1 to 13 in four different colors with two copies of each and two jokers. All players start with 16 tiles and take turns
putting down tiles from their racks in sets of at least three.”
She went on for a few minutes, but
I already knew that the rules were the same. The first game took twenty-five minutes before
she was able to place her last tile on the table.
In the second game it took her thirty
minutes. I didn’t have the slightest chance of winning.
I found-out she was amazing with numbers
and was able to find the best combination in seconds. She did not only win both
games, but it also took her significantly less time during her turn. Her
explanation made it clear, she had been a math teacher for thirty years here in
El Paso. It was
eleven o’clock, just when I lost my third game John came-in to ask me to be his
guest at their exclusive club. I thanked Dorothy for the nice time and her
engaging stories. John
and I took the elevator and I joined a group of successful local residents. The group was gathered in the main living room
around the bar and fireplace. One person stepped towards me and shook my hand
firmly. It was Carl, John’s friend. Carl invited me to join him at the bar and
offered me a whiskey. He told me it was a quality whiskey from Ireland.
I’d never drunk whiskey before but was curious, so I accepted his invitation. He poured a small layer in a rather large
glass and gave it to me, with the words; “We have to be thankful to you because you
helped us with the theme of our calendar of 1981. During our last meeting a few weeks ago we
could not agree, but John’s idea of tonight was inspired by you and your bicycle.”
“OK, I’m
honored, but how did we inspire?” I asked with unbelief in my voice. “John already told me you are always talking about
‘we’, because you see your bicycle more as a companion than as an object. But
nevertheless, the theme of our 1981 calendar will be sporting; A racing cyclist
with a bike, a driver with a racing car, a baseball player with his bat. It
means twelve sport events, one for every month, and the one with a racing car will
be the cover.” “How do you finance all this, because I saw
the calendar of 1980 and the men in the calendar all seem to be top models and
the pictures are professional photo reportages. However,
the circulation is very limited.”
“You've got it wrong about the models, Peter.
Here at John’s house we are a society of intellectuals
talking about worthily topics like culture, fashion and politics. Most
of us also have this other, darker side. We are all gay and also visit typical gay parties.
On those parties we meet a lot of young tasty men,
most of them are inexperienced models, but they are more than willing to be a
nude model for our calendar. Even if they only get some pocket money, travel
expenses and an overnight stay in a hotel.
Desmond, the guy who is standing
there is a professional photographer he is doing the photo shoots for our calendar.
With a
lot of passion and patience, which he normally does not have during his work with
professional models, he can make a worthy composition out of the clumsiest inexperienced
boy. His reward is almost always a wild night with
that model. The thirteen boys we selected must be extremely
handsome, they must have a perfect body and a more than average sized dick. You cannot
imagine how many men with that qualification are visiting gay parties. Tasty, but most of the time totally uninterested
creatures!” This last remark sounded very unsympathetic and
hard. He kept on talking about the selection procedure
and how they all enjoyed it. I kept
being polite, but I started to dislike the man and the way this so called ‘intelligent
society’ treated and talked about mostly young boys.” He went on and on, and suddenly became personal. “You, for instance, are in no way qualified for
our calendar,” His remark came out of the blue without notice.
The fact itself was not a real surprise,
I could easily conclude it myself. However,
it sounded needlessly rude, but his rudeness became even worse.
“Your legs and ass are maybe good
enough, but the rest of your body is far from perfect and not interesting for the
target audience. And most important your dick is too teeny.” “I beg your pardon,” was my indignantly reaction. “Be honest
Peter and admit, when you look at a girl after a few seconds, you know if she
has C, D or E cup. It’s a little bit more difficult to estimate the
size of a cock when a person has his pants on, but we have trained eyes so most
of the time we have a good idea.” John saw you in your tight red training pants
and that made a realistic estimation easier” “John talked with you about the size of my
dick,” I asked, already knowing his answer. “You have to be realistic Peter; you’re a guy
with an interesting story and only for that reason John invited you to his house. “Oh, what a relief, is not because of my dick!”
was the only answer I could give.
I was hoping he would lose interest
in me, so I could switch to another, hopefully more sympathetic member of the club,
but his intention seemed to be to claim me for a while. Luckily, he changed the subject. He told me he did not yet had his own brand, but
worked for a large fashion house to gain experience. While he was telling me a lot of uninteresting
details about his designs I looked around and was surprised by the number of members.
I tried to count them, and I think it came
close to twenty. At a
certain moment I became irritated and bored by this man and I think John saw it
from a distance and came towards us to prevent a clash.
Carl certainly did not like this
interruption and he was rude towards John. I asked the two fighting lovers to excuse me because
I needed to visit the toilet.
I left the group and went straight
to bed. Tomorrow
would be a long cycling day. |