I drove to the coast to return some paintings yesterday morning, went to La Especial for chicken soup, a known cure for what ails you.
It stayed with me all of thirty seconds, I pulled off into the dirt off coast highway and managed to open my door. Partially anyway.
I ended up filling my driver door pockets with three or four inches of puke. A quick trip to Rite Aid for paper towels and I did my best to clean up my miserable mess.
I believe that he is a Guatemaleño, could be Mexican but I have lived and worked around these good people for a long time.
Most Guatemalans in this area are from one puebla, Soloma, also known as San Pedro. He was I think poquito borracho, a little bit drunk, although I honestly smelled no alcohol.
I kept a long lens distance away. I happened to have my bird lens in the car and grabbed the 150-600mm. You use what you got and hope for the best when providence gives you these kinds of visual opportunities. Wished I had an 85mm on or the 70-200mm but I didn't. Dance with who brung ya. Make it work.
Asked him if I could snap a few pics and he smiled sheepishly and assented.
I called a few of my neighbors out to check the guy out and they seemed at least slightly amused. It is weird, we all have our own taste. Some folks like sunsets, others favor poor latinos trying to use their chickens for hats. Always had a taste for the incongruous, myself.
I never will forget what Jerry Kalman said when he saw it, " I don't get it, a black guy holding a plane?"
We all have our own aesthetic sense and individual life experiences and sometimes our intended messages don't get expressed, conveyed or translated.
There was a sad, if not comical humanity about this guy, probably came from a place where it is commonplace to take your chickens for a walk. Perhaps their last walk before they end up in his stomach. My spider sense told me that he was a stranger in a strange land, almost tragically removed from his accustomed reality, perhaps his family as well.
I'm going home soon to hopefully get well.