So I'm just back from San Juan, fairly chuffed because I can now use my EBT card. Cracker EBT cards don't work in the PR.
Fly into Tampa, which, I think, has the nicest airport in America. Rental car, driving to see the real uncle cracker. A couple hours out of Tampa see undoc worker shuffling along other side of road in my direction. U-turn. Ask him if wants ride. After overcoming stunned silence, he gladly accepts. The dangers of being illegal in America.
So Mr. Latino and I drive happily along. Clearly, he enjoyed speaking my excremental high school Spanish with me. Spent the night in Oak Hill. Met cop who makes Buford T. Justice look like a genius.
Ask Mr. Latin if he'd care for breakfast. He agreed, not quite as readily as he began to see a pattern. We enjoy a lovely breakfast at
I'm not sure which I enjoyed more. The breakfast or the 'oh shit' look on his face as we strode into the lobby and i bellied up to the buffet.
If you think crackers get away with stuff now, you should have seen the 1980s.
If you're wondering how Mr. Murphy might have thought of that skit, you might be interested to know Mr. Murphy was a Fresh Air Kid with one of my friends in Brighton. Interesting. "My friends". There's a very inverse relationship between me referring to someone as my friend, and the likelihood of that person using the same word to describe me.
