So, there we were cruising down San Fernando looking at all the old buildings and taco stands. Our salivating tongues longing for some carne asada while we read the signs - Tacos el carbon, Tacos La Fonda, and on and on. Ricardo with a map in one hand trying to figure out which way was up, or was it North, East, West, South, or "we're going to die" lock the doors.

Finally, we hopped back on the freeway and minutes later we approached the Indiana off ramp. And, then we passed Ditman.

Ditman? That name was pounding through my head, because I remember my mama talking about Ditman Ave. when I was just a little tacquito. What happened on Ditman? Who died there, or lived there, or was robbed there? I could not remember...a sure sign of old age. Well, so much for Ditman.

We finally arrived at Alejandro's house. Please note: If you are ever driving to Alejandro's and it's already dark, all you have to do is follow the big yellow lighted "DIESEL" sign. If it's daytime, you're screwed, so stop and ask for directions. Oh yes, I guess I should tell you the reason for this trip in the first place was to help our loco vato brother and friend, Alejandro, celebrate his 26th birthday, along with 100 other people who had no place to park, much less maneuver two cars down a two inch street at the same time!

At some point there was also cerveza, beer, cerveza and more cerveza. And, did I say beer? Tongues were wagging (literally) and cleavage was aplenty. Betty's, red lips, pomps, and tatts ruled. Ahem...well yes, and there was music too - lots of it, from three different houses all next to each other; each having their individual parties. Yihaaa! What a cultural experience! I think Isaw the ghost of Ceasar Chavez sitting on the old Mustang toasting the crowd. But, I thought to myself, "Damn, I never knew Alejandro had this many friends (and good looking too!). And then, I found out they were not his friends but friends of his lovely girl. He confessed to me that unless he drinks he doesn't talk to anyone much, because that is just the way he is - a rather shy young man. I think they call it deprived, and something in my heart softened, so I gave him a special scapula with a prayer. I told him he must repeat it out loud every day, even in public restrooms.

And, then I knew...YES!! The moral of the story is to get a guy who has no friends -- no social life, no popularity, possibly even self-esteem issues. In general, no LIFE, but a helluva nice guy. Then, you tell him what to do, how to do it, and when to do it. It all made perfect sense. It was like a lightening bolt hit me in the head, and I was suddenly transformed!! I knew that my next sermon to the congregation in Calexico was going to be directed to the women, and I would set them straight, once and for all. It would be the forefront of a new era. Men are from Mars and Women are from Venus, but women rule the roost and the cock crows thrice!

Sadly enough, the clock ticked quickly and suddenly, we heard cock-a-doodle-do. It was time for us to pack up the car La Raza style and say our goodbyes. 10 cervezas rolling around in "Frederico's small trunk". What purpose did it serve?? Vitamin P??? That must have been it, because we beheld a very strange sight on the way home. A woman in a parking lot stepped out of her car and let out a flood large enough to be a major oil leak. There she was...reverse spread eagle, and she was...well, watering the plants in a large way?

Never was this night an ordinary night of `Up in Smoke". It was likened to an alien abduction (beam me up Ricardo) and we laughed loud and nervously as we whipped away into the pale moonlight. We sang the rest of the way home: East LA, it's pretty okay - East LA, it'll make your day - East LA, in the middle of May - yeah, East LA, we got there one day, and did it our way!

(Based on a true story. Some names have been changed to protect the innocent and prevent a riot.)