If Cartel Barbie had a home, it would look exactly like the outer façade of Casa Bonita, with its tacky pink tower and cupcake décor.
It was inside this Mexican fiesta universe, sometime in the year 1993, I experienced a moment of great terror and embarrassment that has long lived in my consciousness since age 12 or so.
I choose to write about this incident now because I recently came across an image on Casa Bonita’s website that triggered this unfortunate memory and I believe putting this story out there will serve as a warning—a lesson.
What’s contained in this photo is – shall I put this bluntly – the image of the son of the bitch who ruined my first experience at Casa Bonita.
There it is on the left. I’m not sure if it’s a rat, a monkey or whatever, but it’s clearly some sort of mammalian creature wearing a sombrero and a vest.
To be fair, the person wearing the furry suit is very likely not the person who was wearing this outfit that horrible day back in 93.
And full disclosure – it’s possible this may not be the actual furry, however, seeing the image on Casa Bonita’s website is enough to trigger.
I must point out the furry has a tail, which is a crucial part of this story.
I give it a 95% chance this is the bastard.
Now to the story, which may bore you and may not be quite significant and worthy for such a long post, however you’re still reading at this point so let’s go down this dumb path.
Actually, let’s go up to the entrance of Black Bart’s Hideout where I had the terrible encounter with monkey-rat.
Some context: I was hopped up on sopapilla honey and soda. I just finished a cliff diving show. I was free to roam anywhere within the Casa Bonita dimension, fueled with sugar and thrills.
As I made my way up to the mouth of the cave, there in front of me was a big tail.
Conditioned to believe such people who wear furry costumes are willing to subject themselves to the torture of children, I grabbed that tail and yanked….hard.
The monkey-rat pivoted quickly. As its big face came into view, I put my fists in a boxer’s pose and began to lightly Muhammad Ali the furry face while laughing.
Immediately, the furry took of his head, and to my astonishment, revealed the very small head of a very sweaty and very angry man.
With matted hair, a red face and veins bulging like tree roots on his forehead, the irate mouse/monkey/human hybrid unleashed a verbal assault just a few inches from face.
I felt spit and maybe a shower of sweat.
I broke this man.
And he broke me.
I can’t remember what was said, but I remember the words “I’M JUST TRYING TO DO MY JOB!!!” being screamed at me, over and over and over.
I ran from monkey-rat-man with absolute terror. A strangulation was imminent.
Thankfully, I found my table next to the cliff side, but didn’t reveal the incident to my parents. I sulked.
The cliff divers were no longer fun and I wanted out of this demented place.
And that is my story with monkey-rat.
If there is any lesson here, it’s don’t trust anybody wearing a furry suit….and DON’T touch their tail.
(In the end, I adore everything about this place and always love going back….but I hope I don’t see the monkey-rat furry again.)