On my lunchbreak Friday I picked up my friend Lem and took him with me to go confront this man who was trying to cheat me out of my money for repairs on my car.

Remember that Galant I told you about that was waiting for me here? I don’t even have it anymore, the guy who sold it to me refused to fix it so he gave me my money back. So now I don’t have a car since I gave my old car to my little sister. She is letting me drive it while I look for another one.

So this guy named Tony owed me some money and he was trying to put me off but I went up to his shop to get my money. I told Lem to wait in the car and I would handle it. When I saw Tony I walked up to him with my most ghetto face on and he greeted me like I was a fly on his sandwhich.

“Yeah?” he said.

“I came to get my money.” I told him unafraid of his six foot, three inch frame.

“How much do I owe you?”

“You know how much you owe me,” I said staring up into his face with my hands on my hips.

“I thought the other guy was gonna give you half and I was gonna give you half?”

“You thought wrong. You know you owe me that money.”

He walked away from me and I followed him foot to foot into the breakroom.

He then pulled out two huge wads of cash and began peeling off bills, counting out my money. He must have had a few thousand on him and he was trying to tell me that he didn’t have my money. What a liar!

I grabbed my money off the table and went back to the car and left. I still had some time before my lunchbreak was over and we were not too far from my old highschool so I asked Lem to take me to get a pan con bistec, which is a type of Spanish steak sandwhich. We drove through the neighborhood that surrounds my old highschool and I was flooded with good memories of times when I would spend my lunchbreaks on the bus stop or at the neighborhood library.

My highschool is located in a Dominican neighborhood. All of the stores around there have some reference to the country in their names and every sign on every store is in Spanish. I smiled, remembering that one of the deciding factors for choosing that highschool instead of going to the one in my own neighborhood was the Dominican boys.

I remember when I was thirteen. Don’t ask me why I was not in school that day but me and a few friends of mine were riding around with our band director and he took us on a tour of the highschools nearby so we could see the different type of students that were at each school.

We drove by my neighborhood highschool first, Miami Northwestern. Trina went to that school and I think Trick Daddy too. All of the guys had gold teeth and dreads and I never liked guys like that for some reason.

Next we drove by Miami Central and the guys there were more clean cut and pretty nice looking, but not outstanding. Finally we went in the opposite direction down 17th Avenue to Miami Jackson High. The sun beamed a little brighter over this school.

I couldn’t believe my eyes. There they were in all their glory: GEORGEOUS DOMINICAN MEN. Beautiful brown skin, dressed neatly, precise haircuts and when they opened their mouths they were speaking Spanish. I thought I was going to melt.

Around that same time I saw a movie and the two main characters were a guy and a girl in their teens. I don’t remember much about the movie except the guy was Spanish and the girl was white. One day they were sitting together and he leaned in close and began speaking Spanish to her, one word at a time while he kissed her head, her eyes, her neck, her forehead. I didn’t have a clue what he was saying but it made me long to have a Spanish man speak that Spanish love in my ear.

I wanted me one of those. Funny how I never got one. The cute ones must have disappeared when I got there because I didn’t see one that I was attracted to.

Well, besides the first day of school.

On the first day of school I was wondering around by myself. It was a really weird experience because none of my friends had come with me to Jackson so I had to make new ones. When I passed the library a fine Dominican guy walked up to me and looked me over like I was a peach at the grocery store. I felt so uncomfortable and nervous.

“What’s your name?” He asked me.

I told him.

“Are you a freshman?”

“Yes.”

“Ok, here’s my number, call me tonight.” he said and smiled before walking away.

“Dang.” I thought to myself. “Is this how highschool guys try to talk to you?”

I never called him and missed my only chance of talking to a fine Dominican. I couldn’t call, I wasn’t allowed to talk on the phone with boys. Oh well.

I even got a chance to go to the Dominican Republic during my senior year. After being a part of the Dominican Club, a club to celebrate Dominican heritage, I was very much intrigued by the culture. My friends would clown me for joining but I had a lot of fun with them. I learned a lot of Spanish and they taught me how to meringue and bachata. I even danced with them in the Hispanic Heritage Month show.

We stayed in the Dominican Republic for a week and I was in Chico heaven. The first night we were there we went to a Dominican Club with our teacher and I danced with this guy who made me feel like I was a slut the way he danced with me. Those Dominican men are the most erotic dancers in the world. I had to step back and cool down.

That experience in the Dominican Republic was the closest thing that I will ever get to being on The Real World. Cameras followed us everywhere. People recognized us on the streets and asked for our autographs and wanted pictures with us. We weren’t famous, just exchange students. I couldn’t understand what the big deal was.

But you know I soaked it all up. I walked around with a huge smile on my face, twirling in front of the camera and speaking my broken Spanish. They loved me over there!

One of the students that I met while I was there was a guy named Ramon. He kept in touch with me for a year but it was frustrating to talk to him because he only spoke Spanish and I only spoke it a little so when he would call me we couldn’t communicate. I found out that after he graduated he became a radio deejay. I wonder what he’s doing now.

I’m sure one day I’ll go back for a visit and who knows, maybe I’ll meet my husband.