The M.I.L.F. Man

Faire game

The Valencia kids folded their arms and stared as two Walther vans rolled into the muddy parking lot. Slick Mercedes vans with dark tinted windows--you get the idea. A far cry from the dingy yellow school buses that had bumped and bounced all the other kids to the Faire.

It was Senior Day, the last of several "student" days offered at discounted prices each year. And the Valencia chaperones, two counselors and a librarian who'd volunteered just to get away for the day, looked like they were already sorry they'd signed on.

Though Valencia kids were actually kind of chill. They didn't have food fights or shove each other into lockers or run up and down the halls screaming like banshees or anything.

Oh, but when they threw down it was like friggin' West Side Story—usually off campus, because it's also not cool to bring your "street shit" to school. Unless honor was at stake or some bitch messed with your man and you had to nip that shit in the bud right quick.

They live by their own cultural "codes," those kids. Codes as old as the barrios.

Whereas my Mercedes babies...well...they live by rules that Valencia kids crash into like Wile E. Coyote splats against those cartoon canyon walls. So those vans were a loud "meep, meep" from wealthy "roadrunners" speeding toward a whole 'nother level of life.

One thing eased the tension, though. Okay, two—no, three things.

The first was Chas rolling up with Clemmie. All the ladies were real happy to see him hop out of that Rover. Even the ones just standing in line with us who didn't know who he was. Or maybe they did once they saw me head that way. I could feel a little buzz building up as some of them recognized us. But it didn't get weird, thank God. A few little gawks and giggles.

They liked Umar, too. Who'd come along in his own car. The Valencia girls went nuts when he eased out of his BMW. Started checkin' that baby hair and whatnot in their mirrors like they were at the club, right? Getting ready to stalk the hottest dude in the house.

Third thing was all those hormone-driven teenage bodies discovering each other. Bootylicious barrio girls and buff brown broad-shouldered boys eyeballing pretty little trust fund babies with eyes and hair of many hues--let the games begin...

Of course as we entered, the total immersion into another age distracted them for a short while. The Valencia crew were like children on that first trip to Disneyland, mesmerized by the costumes and props, the smells from all the food booths and the wise-cracking jugglers and jesters and sideshow hosts.

It was as close as a lot of them would ever get to an amusement park aside from the cheesy parking lot carnivals some malls have. So, they didn't seem particularly bothered by the "politics" of this total immersion into Enemy cultures.

They just made beelines for the huge turkey legs and trinkets. The girls mixing and mingling and giggling and gawking at "teen-friendly" trinkets set out especially for them that day. I loved seeing my barrio girls get all into their feelings for once.

The boys got all "quien es mas macho" ax throwing, catapulting, "jousting" on those fake horses on pulleys that jerk you toward an equally off-balance opponent.

Chas scaled Jacob's Ladder like a pro. That's a ladder tied between two posts like a hammock, only it's tilted diagonally and flips most people over.

Trick is to plant your left foot on the left side of the rung and your right hand on the rope on the opposite side and then alternate like that the whole way. Freaked out the Faire guys when he scampered right up like that. But he kept mum cause it's such a fun "fail."