Ruben Pulidor pulled up to the curb a little south of Fordham on the Concourse. His onyx Town Car was spewing wisps of marble cumulous from under the hood; beneath the car, the chassis spewed toxic green mouthwash, which seemed to steam in the crisp morning air. Needless to say, Ruben was not pleased, but his optimistic demeanor disallowed him from taking this to heart. However, the street sweeper was about two blocks away and the Sanitation department was ticketing vehicles that were stationed in the curb precluding the giant, amphibous broom from dispersing the grime, dirt, and noxious water that had collected in the gutters of the curb.
Ruben was probably going to get a ticket, and while this did not necessarily please him, it would only be the second ticket he had ever received (including moving violations). If the Sanitation guy was not a complete dick, he would wait for Ruben to start his Town Car and skedaddle up the street and out of the way of the street sweeper. But, chances were that the Sanitation guy had a quota of tickets to give out and Ruben was not going to escape his municipal clutches. The car actually belonged to Di Que Car Service, meaning that they were responsible for licensing, registration, and the Taxi and Limousine Commission medallion. Ruben had worked for Di Que Car Service since he came over from Punta Cana in 2002 and got along fairly well with Sampson Gancho, the owner of Di Que.
Sampson knew Ruben from Punta Cana. Punta Cana is a cape on the easternmost part of the island. The resorts there are mostly owned by Spaniards and Europeans but they rule by proxy and leave Dominicans to run the resorts for them. So from the age of fifteen on, Ruben was in charge of the jet ski rentals at the Madrileno, a 2-star hotel on Playa de Arena Gorda. He liked being in the sun all day and staring at the jevitas in their bikinis, especially las Americanitas that came to escape their boyfriends and the older jovatas that came to escape their boyfriends. It was like this that Ruben came into his optimistic persona. Working in the sun, hitting on women, and making enough money to bring home to his parents gave him a sense of pride and wonder that many men of his age in the D.R. did not know.
A Spanglish blog dedicated to the works, ruminations, and mongrel pyrotechnics of Yago S. Cura, an Argentine-American poet, translator, publisher & futbol cretin. Yago publishes Hinchas de Poesia, an online literary journal, & is the sole proprietor of Hinchas Press.