This picture from earlier on the thread had me deep in nostalgia. Back to the days of Zedillo, the transfer of power to Fox and the heady days of the new changes as Mexico emerged from the shadow of 71 years of a dictatorship disguised as democracy. It was from the time of the release of the Kahlo movie that starred Salma Hayek with a distinctly hirsute appearance. That's Tyson, the Spyder monkey. I miss him.
Those were heady days for young Tyson. He was moving and shaking, his career was a rocket heading for the stars.
But it was not to last. A cold wind was blowing in from France and before you could say "zoot alors", he was
Alas, poor Tyson was relegated to the B list and then, in a moment of inspiration worthy of any Mexican celebrity, Tyson entered the ring, but with mixed results.
Turns out few people would pay to see a former A list wrestling monkey. Well, few people other than me, anyways.
Tyson, learning a bitter lesson of stardom, lost his high profile agent. Next, Lopez Doriega and Televisa no longer returned his calls, and worst of all, Mexican actresses would no longer hug him dearly and smother him with their endowments.
In short, life was tough. Real tough.
I next bumped into Tyson when he was well into his "Fat Elvis", "Jim Morrison in Paris", and "Marlon's later years" stage. He was the doorman and bouncer at the old La Diosa strip club just south of the town of Angel R. Cabada on the coast highway Mex #180. I asked him if he missed Salma but maybe would wish her well with her new wealthy French husband and he looked me square in the eye and "signed" a reply to me.
Times changed, the world had moved on and I lost touch with Tyson, we'd gone our separate ways and we were moving in different circles. We'd had our differences in the past, argued about Hollywood and if the good life was what Che Guevara had really wanted or whether he was just faking being a commie. Tyson used to say he could ride a single cylinder Norton better than Guevara any day of the week and I had to agree. The guy was a furry streak on a motorcycle, he looked just like the image above!
And then one day I was riding past an old run down bar right on the shore outside of Alvarado. The place was on the skids, real down and out. I was thirsty, I asked for a coke and kicked back looking out over the waves, ignoring the utter filth and ruin of the place, being lulled into a gentle stupor, the pre-siesta kind, by the ebb and flow of mother ocean and then, out of the corner of my eye, there was Tyson!
Dead as a doornail, stuffed, and hugging an empty bottle of cognac.
May we all be so lucky!
I left a couple of 10 peso coins on the table and as I got up, I swear Tyson gave me a wink and stuck his tongue out at me, he'd do that sort of thing whenever he'd been drinking, especially the high class stuff like cognac. He was far worse when he was into the peyote buttons, but we won't go there.
I rode away, a better man for having known Tyson. In fact, I firmly believe there is a little Tyson in all of us, including these two guys in the photo below.