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El Laberinto, 1971-1987

ONE FOOT IN PARADISE THE OTHER IN HELL
[emblem]

How many times have you left Iowa City for that long awaited vacation in paradise (home) only to have it all end in a Greyhound bus terminal at one in the morning with a four-foot Ceylonese pervert trying to get a hand down the front of your pants? "It," is a universal condition in life known to Chicanos as "destrampe." It bears defining:

"Destrampe": n [CALO destrampar deriv. of Sp. destruir or destrozar to squander the mind (fr. NAHUATL to be shit upon by the Spanish] 1: fundamental mental derangement stemming from extremely nervous circumstance 2: crazy, out of it, totally wasted

Destrmpe occurs everywhere in the most forlorn, desolate places and at the most unbearable times. Life would be better off without this...this thing! But then again, without it, this wouldn't be life--for Chicanos!

Some time ago, I was sitting half asleep after an eight-hour bus ride in the Des Moines Greyhound Terminal. The Ceylonese midget was slowly working his seedy fat little paw around my waist when I awoke. (Luckily I wore a belt!) I jumped and must have screamed loud enough to wake the sleeping dead in that terminal. The little guy smiled and said something in his native tongue which I guess was to reassure me. "Girlie, you are my kind of...." I shudder to envisage my own morbid imaginings. Anyway, my stomach pinched at the sight of his smile--green teeth and sagging purple gums--and I grabbed my backpacks and ran to the rest room.

I could feel terror and bile inching up my esophagus. O God, please don't let me humiliate myself here, in this place! I was in the darkness. I moved my hand along the wall feeling for the light switch. Click. Two cucarachas were fucking. After a few moments I seemed to hear the one on [to?]p say, "Hey, turn off the goddamn light!"

I stamped my foot stupidly at them. Horrible things! They ran and hid in a crack in the wall. I touched my forehead. It felt cold and clammy. Oh, Mama. I wanted my mother. More than anything I wanted her.

When I reentered the terminal it was quiet. The dwarf was gone. There was nobody. The ticket clerk had probably gone back for coffee. I needed coffee. Worse, I needed my Jim Beam. A Greyhound bus driver walked in. Something about him, I don't know, his uniform I guess, made me run wildly to him and hug him by the waist as I cried uncontrollably. Take me away from all this, I sobbed. He took my ticket and led me onto the bus and then gently put me in one of the rear seats. I began to drowse, my crying effecting to lull me to sleep.

When I awoke the driver was nudging me and saying I was home. He was a sweet man. I hope all his children have his sweet gentleness and kind regard for imperilled and frazzled lunatics.

It was five o'clock in the morning, still dark. I took a cab to my parents' apartment. Outside their building I decided to smoke a joint. When I entered (I used my key to get in) I peeked inside their bedroom. They were asleep. I couldn't sleep so I decided to stay up; they'd be getting up soon. I went to the bathroom. When I switched on the light, a solitary cucaracha stood in the middle of the linoleum floor. He looked at me wit a devious smile. I think it was then that I saw the first inklings of approaching insanity.... Destrampe, I thought to myself, and laughed out loud.

[illustration text] MAS......MASSS

6

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ONE FOOT IN PARADISE THE OTHER IN HELL [emblem] How many times have you left Iowa City for that long awaited vacation in paradise (home) only to have it all end in a Greyhound bus terminal at one in the morning with a four-foot Ceylonese pervert trying to get a hand down the front of your pants? "It," is a universal condition in life known to Chicanos as "destrampe." It bears defining: "Destrampe": n [CALO destrampar deriv. of Sp. destruir or destrozar to squander the mind (fr. NAHUATL to be shit upon by the Spanish] 1: fundamental mental derangement stemming from extremely nervous circumstance 2: crazy, out of it, totally wasted Destrmpe occurs everywhere in the most forlorn, desolate places and at the most unbearable times. Life would be better off without this...this thing! But then again, without it, this wouldn't be life--for Chicanos! Some time ago, I was sitting half asleep after an eight-hour bus ride in the Des Moines Greyhound Terminal. The Ceylonese midget was slowly working his seedy fat little paw around my waist when I awoke. (Luckily I wore a belt!) I jumped and must have screamed loud enough to wake the sleeping dead in that terminal. The little guy smiled and said something in his native tongue which I guess was to reassure me. "Girlie, you are my kind of...." I shudder to envisage my own morbid imaginings. Anyway, my stomach pinched at the sight of his smile--green teeth and sagging purple gums--and I grabbed my backpacks and ran to the rest room. I could feel terror and bile inching up my esophagus. O God, please don't let me humiliate myself here, in this place! I was in the darkness. I moved my hand along the wall feeling for the light switch. Click. Two cucarachas were fucking. After a few moments I seemed to hear the one on [to?]p say, "Hey, turn off the goddamn light!" I stamped my foot stupidly at them. Horrible things! They ran and hid in a crack in the wall. I touched my forehead. It felt cold and clammy. Oh, Mama. I wanted my mother. More than anything I wanted her. When I reentered the terminal it was quiet. The dwarf was gone. There was nobody. The ticket clerk had probably gone back for coffee. I needed coffee. Worse, I needed my Jim Beam. A Greyhound bus driver walked in. Something about him, I don't know, his uniform I guess, made me run wildly to him and hug him by the waist as I cried uncontrollably. Take me away from all this, I sobbed. He took my ticket and led me onto the bus and then gently put me in one of the rear seats. I began to drowse, my crying effecting to lull me to sleep. When I awoke the driver was nudging me and saying I was home. He was a sweet man. I hope all his children have his sweet gentleness and kind regard for imperilled and frazzled lunatics. It was five o'clock in the morning, still dark. I took a cab to my parents' apartment. Outside their building I decided to smoke a joint. When I entered (I used my key to get in) I peeked inside their bedroom. They were asleep. I couldn't sleep so I decided to stay up; they'd be getting up soon. I went to the bathroom. When I switched on the light, a solitary cucaracha stood in the middle of the linoleum floor. He looked at me wit a devious smile. I think it was then that I saw the first inklings of approaching insanity.... Destrampe, I thought to myself, and laughed out loud. [illustration text] MAS......MASSS 6