Saturday Nights and our Sleepy Security

Saturday night is party night on the island and the young idiotas come out to play.  Lots of revving of engines, smashing of beer bottles, loud voices and louder music and because these kids have money - lots of attitude.  Gee, where have I seen this before?  Stupidity and arrogance combined with alcohol and youth......oh well.  At least the streets are blessedly clean the next day.

I know, I know....wait until Semana Santa (Easter Week), the biggest blowout of the year!  That, I can accept but the rest of the time?

Usually it is pretty quiet around here given our location and the surrounding culture of loud, louder and loudest just across the lake in Santa Elena.   Compared to my former city in Canada the revelers here are quite polite for the most part when rebuked.  I have not had a gun pulled on me yet.  Pays to be an Abuelita!!!  No one messes with angry, tired grannies!

Which brings us to the tale of the sleeping security guard.  Oh he is a riot.  Why we bother having him I have not a clue for it has been me for these past three weeks chasing away the Saturday night drunks and making those who have loud car stereos turn their shit down.  Hell, I even have the local cops on my side now and it has not costed one penny!

Three times I have caught this dude sleeping on the job.....the first time I was not amused but I got even the next two times by sneaking up on the bugger and waking him up by yelling in his ear.....gave me quite a bit of satisfaction considering how his inepitude has created a sleep deprivation situation - not good for el cheffo and most certainly not good for other humans who need me at my best.

In a way I am glad he does not understand English for I have called him a "pussy" at least five times under my breath.  Yet, he still takes the time to greet me as la Jefe and accord to me the usual honorifics and respect so I cannot get too pissed off at the man.  I suppose now that he has watched me in action he is a bit more aware of my brute strength....stock pots, that's the ticket to building muscle mass.  Do not mess with da chef.

Yes, life in an erstwhile sleepy town.....gotta love it!