Yesterday, my mom got a phone call. All of the following conversations happened in Spanish, but I wrote them out in English for you. You're welcome.
Also, 'Murrica.
Mom: Hello?
Person: Hi tia, it's your nephew here in Mexico!
Mom: Who is this?
Person: You don't recognize me? It's me, calling to say hello!
Mom: Who are you?
Person: See if you can guess.
So my mom threw names out of cousins we have in Mexico (keep in mind, this is a LONG list. I once did a tally of all the cousins I have on both my parents' sides, and the number came out to about 82. That was when I was in college, about eight years ago. We're like the people from My Big Fat Greek Wedding, except louder and more fertile.)
Dude latched onto the name Jesus and said he would be flying in the next day, because he had to buy something for his work. Could someone maybe pick him up at the airport? He would be flying in from Tijuana.
My mom, having no reason to doubt at this point, gave "Jesus" my cell number, said she looked forward to seeing him, and hung up.
(On a sidenote, JESUS?? REALLY? You pick, of all names, JESUS? Dude. Way to exploit the son of God in your little scam. I bet you have a shitty beard. It probably just looks like face pubes.)
I thought it was odd that someone would want to fly from Tijuana to the airport here, a trip that basically amounts to 2 hours by car (or an hour and 45 minutes if you drive like me), so I looked up flight times coming in, simply so I could make my workout schedule for the next morning. There were no flights. I checked the Tijuana website for flights leaving, to land here. Again, nothing.
'Something's not right." I said.
"I can figure this out right now." My mom replied. She called her sister in Leon, but she had left for Sahuayo so she spoke to my cousin, Liz (like I said, there are a LOT of us). Liz promised she'd call Jesus and call us back. A short while later, sure enough, Jesus had not called us and had no plans to travel. Right away, my mom blocked the number on the house phone, and I put a fraud watch on my cell. My first concern was that they would "clone" my number, calling from a throwaway cell phone and thereby saddling me with the fraudulent charges. I then went online and did a little research. It was a much simpler scenario than I thought.
Apparently the way the game works is this: someone calls pretending to be a relative in Mexico. They tell you some vague details about being in town later that day or the next, making arrangements to visit. When they call back, they have fallen victim to some tragedy: they ran over a kid, their money was stolen, or they have been kidnapped by a crew of outlaw circus clowns who have retired from the Big Top but have developed a crippling addiction to Pai Gow at the local casinos and they kidnap people for ransom to pay for their gambling debts. They are also addicted to children's cough medicine for some reason. The clowns, I mean. Not the relative. They ask for the money via Western Union, so if you fall for it, you lose money and there is no way to get it back.
Anyway, I giddily waited for my cell phone call this morning from my 'cousin', who I will now call Cayetano. He called in the morning, as I was heading out for a run.
Me: Hello?
Cayetano: Hey cousin! It's Jesus!
Me: Oh hey. How are you.
Cayetano: I'm good. I just landed in Tijuana and I just need to pick up my luggage from baggage claim, so I can get on my next flight. I'll call you when I land.
Me: Ok. Sounds good.
Cayetano: I'll see you soon, cousin! I'm sending you kisses!
*shudder*
During the run, I formulated all sorts of hilarious things I would say to Cayetano when he called back. Like, if he called saying he ran someone over, I'd ask him to send pictures of the gory scene because I got a kick out of gross shit like that. Or if his money was stolen I'd tell him to go pimp himself out on Avenida Revolucion and MAKE IT RAIN. Clown scenario? Easy. I would have said to surrender to a life of renegade whimsey, making balloon animals and riding around in a 1994 Honda Civic with 19 other people. It's not like Mexicans aren't used to the latter part of that scenario.
An hour later, my phone rang.
Me: Hello?
Cayetano: OMG cousin! Something has happened, my luggage and money are gone and I am stranded here with literally nothing! I need help, there is a licenciado here who is going to help me, will you talk to him?
Me: Sure.
Plutarco (I decided I would name him after a historical dickwagon): Hello, this is licenciado so and so, from such an such an office! With whom do I have the pleasure of speaking with today?
Me: *gives first name* (Taco!)
Plutarco: Taco what? I need your name.
Me: No, you don't. I don't know you.
Plutarco: Miss, I am here trying to help your familiar. In order to do that I need your full name, please.
Me: No. I don't know who you are. So I'm not giving you my full name until I need to.
Plutarco: Miss, why are you behaving so rudely? I am simply trying to help your familiar.
Me: *becoming irritated now because this fool is talking to me like I'm a child* I DO NOT KNOW YOU. I WILL GIVE YOU INFORMATION AS I SEE FIT.
Plutarco: *to Cayetano* Sir, your familiar is not cooperating with me. Can you speak with her?
Cayetano: Taco, what is going on? This man is being very polite and cordial with you. Why are you behaving so poorly with him?
I wanted to keep going, I really did. But I was still about three miles from home, I was tired and sweaty, and Cayetano had now pissed me off by trying to call me out on my "behavior", like I was a toddler being sent on a time-out. Who does this shitpail think he is?
Me: You know what dude? Because I am very well aware that you are not my cousin. You aren't getting shit from me. So you can just go on and fuck yourself, asshole. *cackles madly*
Cayetano: VIEJA CABRO-
And then I hung up.
To be honest, I'm not sure what he said after "vieja" which means "old lady". I couldn't hear him over the sound of my own laughter, so we'll just assume he had a few choice vulgarities to throw my way. I have to admit his anger surprised me. As if he was truly pissed that I had the audacity to not fall for his scheme and send him my money. I laughed at the absurdity, put my phone back in my armband, and finished my run.
When I got home, I replayed the conversation over in my head and to be honest, it made me sad. Because I knew that Cayetano and Plutarco would be pissed at me for all of five minutes before they called some other poor soul and take advantage of their generosity. When I told my dad the story, he simply shook his head and called them "huevones", which is a slang term for a lazy-ass. And it's 100% true. An epidemic of sorts among many in Mexico that has led it to the state it is in now. Good for nothing deadbeats who, rather than work for a living and carve out a niche for themselves, will take the hard-earned money of others and not think twice about it. It gives the non-deadbeats a bad name, saddling them with this reputation of a ne'er do-well who only wants to sneak into the U.S. and live off government subsidies and SMOKE HELLA WEED. And if they aren't given such wealth and privilege on a silver platter, they become enraged and self-entitled.
All I can really do is hope both Cayetano and Plutarco, and others like them, one day really do get kidnapped by the circus clowns, except they are REALLY afraid of clowns and for the rest of their lives they wet the bed and chew off their fingernails while humming Entry of the Gladiators, and they are really bad at making balloon animals so they can't stay in the clown gang so the clowns run them over with their clown car, or they o.d. on children's Tylenol. The end.
In the meantime, dearest fake cousin, you didn't get my money.
Suck it.
No comments:
Post a Comment