There is a photo of myself and a guy I barely knew. It could be called a photo portrait. A friend was responsible. He was throwing a big party. From the outside of his house he was photographing the party inside, each photo framed by an open rectangular window. Spontaneously, from inside, the guy I barely knew and I stuck our heads side by side, almost touching, into the open window and said “you want a photo, come and get it”. Our faces framed and 2 feet from the camera lens, the shutter clicked. We had buddied up a bit.
That photo came to mind while eating in a restaurant in Mazunte, more to the point it was the owner of the joint that provoked the recollection. Macho, nothing friendly about him, no smiles, no customer interaction, hires babes to wait on tables, and along with his two well trained German shepherds, he always has a few underlings at his elbow fetching him things, sucking up.
Every time I see this guy the same thoughts make their way in. This guy could could hurt someone, this guy might have hurt someone, or at some point in his life was willing to do bad things for the right price. I don’t really know what a cartel vibe is but this could be it.
There was a night when a number of people were waiting for a table and, I will call him The Dark One, cleared the largest table in the joint, so he and his buddies could drink beer, play poker and smoke pot.
I was sitting right behind him the night of the poker game, I could have reached out and touched him. I was rooting for him to win, no need for trouble. We hadn’t buddied up but it was up close and personal enough.
I hope I’m wrong about this guy because I missed by a mile with my portrait buddy. A few years after the photo, he stalked and brutally murdered his ex-girlfriend. He’s behind bars. I had that one all wrong. I would love to be wrong again.