Prostibulo

Puberty hits like a ton of bricks, but in the summer of 2003, life struck George first. He was thirteen-years old and summer apathy crept on him like fancy vines. One day, while playing with friends, a neighbor invited him to Lake Travis near Austin, Texas. The plan was to slay summer apathy with a little fun in the sun on the water. It just so happened that a nude beach was nearby, but no one said that out loud. George’s parents divorced and with his mother in Oregon that summer, he was with his dad. George’s dad had a bit of a reckless streak, but even he was hesitant with the prospective chaperon. You see, the parent taking them was going to be Harold.

Harold was the forty-year-old owner of a hot tub shop that he eventually ran into the ground. A few years later, the whole town discovered he used a bulldozer of cocaine, but this was before that. This was back when Harold was just Focker, like the movie Meet the Fockers with Robert DiNiro, Ben Stiller and that one generic blonde actress. Focker was a moron, and the name stuck. Reinforced every time he came outside and left us laughing with his idiotic antics. If any parent would have a child die under their care, it was Focker. But back then George was an uber-horny thirteen year-old and the chance to see boobs was an event he couldn’t pass up. Especially during the summer apathy when he stumbled upon Beyoncé in a diamond fishnet shirt and jeans.

So, despite his reservations, George’s dad eventually capitulated after being inundated by his incessant begging. That weekend, George, his friend Matt, Harold’s two sons, Chris and Christian- yes, he named his sons Chris and Christian- all packed into the car. The five of them left Odessa, Texas headed for Lake Travis listening to ‘Crazy In Love’ and ‘Magic Stick’, all the uncensored jams because Focker didn’t care about cursing. As they set out, Matt and George began formulating plans to reach the nude beach, drooling over all the glorious boobs they’d see.

Eventually, the brainstorming session fizzled out, and George fell asleep. A bump in the road woke him up and when he looked around, George was confused. He expected to see the rolling green fields surrounding the lake but that was almost the exact opposite of what he saw. The landscape was littered with garbage, the area arid and dry. The buildings were all run down, made of concrete with the paint flaking like dandruff. Unfortunate looking little kids sold goods on the side of the road, pestering drivers to buy their wares. Something stuck out in George’s mind but he couldn’t figure it out. He stared in confusion until it became glaringly apparent. Everyone was Mexican. His heart lurched just as a wooden sign came into view.

Bienvenidos y Acuna!

After unwittingly being spirited to Mexico, Focker dragged the four preteens to every bar in town and fed the minors every shot in existence. At least that’s how it felt to George. Sex on the Beaches, Buttery Nipples, Fresh Connections, so many shots that George would never see a shot glass the same. Once done with the alcohol, Focker hailed a cab and loudly asked the driver if he knew where to get pain pills. He handed the suspicious man some pesos, the driver checked their surroundings, and then told them to get in.

A few minutes later, they were in a sketchy alley, and Focker left with the driver. The boys were all drunk, but after some time, George began worrying. None of them spoke the language, so if anything went wrong, they were screwed. However, he was too drunk to be worried, and after a few minutes, Focker returned, cursing a storm. Three white oval pills slipped down his throat and he handed the driver a few more pesos, looking at the four of us with a leering smile as he gave the driver very specific directions. The driver nodded with a chuckle as the pesos vanished. He knew exactly where to find Boys’ Town.

After making a few turns down dark streets and muddy alleys, the taxi stopped in front of an nondescript building on an unassuming street that curved up one of the many hills of Boys Town. Like most of the buildings in the city, the paint was nothing more than a memory, but loud music thumped from inside the building. Focker got out and ushered the four boys out of the car. He led them inside as he swallowed a few more white pills alongside blue ones George hadn’t noticed before. The five of them entered a filthy rat hole strip club with miserable looking women lazily gyrating on the few poles in the room. Women in next to nothing walked through the men sitting around the stages, a few danced on the men while others were on their knees, heads bobbing.

Focker didn’t hesitate and went directly to the back of the strip club where there were a pair of flimsy doors. He stepped through as confidently as if he owned the place, oblivious to the men on the walls whose hands gripped handles under their shirts. On the other side of the flimsy doors, we emerged into a grungy hallway lined with more flimsy doors. Even with all the music and porno blaring, we could still hear the thumping and grunting. Focker spoke with a man who whistled loudly and spoke in a furious tone. Focker clapped his hands together and had a huge smile on his face as he turned to George and Matt, asking if they were ready to become men.

Confused, the boys watched women of all shapes and sizes filing out of one of the doors until the five of them were surrounded. Some of the women there were actually quite pretty or well-built but there were more than a few who were quite the opposite in fact. Matt looked over at George with a stupid smile on his drunken face but George watched in horror as Matt said he’d only do it if he did it. George was thirteen years-old, he wasn’t trying to be the pussy that ruined the fun. So they started looking for who they wanted. Focker, still grinning wolfishly as he chewed on yet more pills, stepped outside with his sons while George and Matt made their pick but tragedy struck.

A disgusting gigantic orangutan of a woman with the arms to match came forward out of the darkness. She had the size of an NFL running back with a face to match. She shook the ground as she stomped her way over to us and looked down at us with eyebrows that belonged in a caveman exhibit. Placing her hefty hands on our shoulders, she promised to take care of us and Focker erupted in laughter. We refused her and the man snapped at us in Spanish, clearly impatient. With all the pressure on us, Matt pointed at a woman George eyed and he blurted out that he wanted her too. She was a beautiful woman, run down by the life she lived, but the best looking option that night. Her name was Maria and when they made their selection, the other women drifted away and Focker cheered the boys on.

Maria took George and Matt to one of the dingy rooms in the back. It was a dirty little square with a cot on one side and a TV playing pornography on the other. The boys stood awkwardly as Maria closed the door and motioned to the bed. She took her clothes off and George sat down with Matt following soon after. When disrobed, Maria began taking off George’s shirt and soon the boys were naked. Maria looked down with a bored face before laying down on the dirty mattress and in that room in Acuna, Mexico that George and Matt simultaneously lost their virginities.

It was embarrassingly obvious they weren’t doing anything for her. Maria was glued to the TV, her eyes glazed as though she refused to think. After the deed was done, the boys emerged from the room and we were shocked to find Focker, his sons gone. At that point, George and Matt were so drunk and exhausted they didn’t have the energy to search. They were still in the clouds, reminiscing over the previous three minutes. The absence of the only adult they knew in the country was a trivial matter at the moment compared to their magical night.

They soon found out that Focker left an IOU, promising to come back, since he had to get the boys. So George and Matt sat down with Maria at a burger shack waiting, hoping they weren’t in for yet another surprise. George’s mind was everywhere and nowhere while Matt fought sleep like a narcoleptic security guard, head bobbing and snapping back up. Focker was the kind of person who might ditch them, but George wasn’t too worried since Focker would have to answer to his parents if he returned without them. Still, the idea of it was scary and the boys waited patiently as Maria stared into the night sky.

Twenty minutes passed and a big man with a pot belly and a few gold teeth poked his head out from the building, screaming at Maria. She shouted back at him in a plaintive tone, and the man went back inside. George didn’t know what was said but he could guess that she had to get back to work. She confirmed it when she got up and spoke to us in halting english.

“When… he here, bring… dinero...money? Si?”

Matt sleepily mumbled something and George nodded, unsure of what else to do. Maria smiled a surprisingly dazzling smile before running into the building. About thirty minutes later, Focker pulled up out of nowhere in his car with his sons. He looked confused as he stared at George and Matt. The boys stumbled to the car and when they opened the door, rather than asking after their wellbeing, he asked them where the girl went. George delivered her message and Focker simply checked behind him to make sure the coast was clear.

George stood there wondering if he should run and get Maria, but then Focker snapped.

“Well fuck, get in the car let’s go!”

The whirlwind trip was over. George returned home, frightened about STDs, but still considering the trip worth it. Disaster can make or break a person. Sometimes the trauma that makes a man can be enjoyed too. It took George years to understand the gravity of what he went through. And yet, as disgusting as the experience was, his time in Mexico was one he’d never forget.