Kentucky Woman vs. Sweet Caroline

“El Guapo, trust me.”

I do not always like it when Miguel gets that look in his eyes. It’s a strange look, not unlike that of the cheetah I’ve seen on television.

“Trust me. It’s going to be amazing. Just trust me.”

I do not like it when he tells me to trust me several times. It makes me want to not trust him. Similar to when people begin sentences with “no offense or anything,” I automatically begin to not trust him.

So tell me again. This is a band that charges $22 to see them play someone else’s songs?

“Si, but you don’t understand.”

And then while they are charging you $22 to listen to them play someone else’s songs, they also dress up like this person?

“Si, but you don’t understand.”

And this “band” is vocally plagiarizing songs written by a guy known as the “Jewish Elvis”?

“El Guapo, shut your boca for two seconds and pay attention to me. Women, bueno, American women, love this type of music. I guarantee that this place will be full of the nieves. The ratio is going to be amazing. AND, please pay attention to these words, we will be the only Latino men there. I promise. Te lo prometo.”

I left Miguel to do some research on this Jewish Elvis. I checked out this song called Cherry Cherry which is pretty much a catchy song that repeats and rhymes words like move and groove. Interesante. Then I listened to Sweet Caroline. My, what a catchy song. So I realized that Neil Diamond songs were not songs for a thinking man. Bueno, I realized before this, that these songs were not songs for men at all. Mi amigo was right. This place was going to be crawling with women.

We arrived at the 9:30 club to find that we were indeed the only Latin men there and, gracias Miguel, the crowd was easily made up of 80% women. I would like to thank whomever sent the memo to Miguel.

The band was made up of 6 men who all wore rhinestone shirts and had some sort of sideburn activity. Many were balding and perhaps a bit overweight. The great thing? It didn’t matter. These gringas loved the way they moved and sang. The band was fun because they didn’t take themselves seriously. Yet the women, I believe that by the end of the show, they all wanted to make sweet, magic love.

One gentleman in the crowd, who for some reason felt the need to speak to Miguel and me rather than the 900 single women in the club, told me that it was “cougar central.” I had no idea what he meant by this and wished for him to take his green shirt and halitosis somewhere else. He kept reminding Miguel that he was going to “pull major ass” and how American women like to be “thrown around by Latin-types.”

It was during Kentucky Woman that I told him a particular woman had been staring at him.

“Oh, that’s my wife. Look buddy, truth be told, she wants me to ask you if you’d be down for a three way. Interested? She’s crazy in the sack and has always wanted a Spanish type.”

I had no words then and I really have no words now. I just looked at the guy with a look puzzled enough to send him back to explain his failure.

“Did he just ask you for a threesome?”

Si.

“Turned it down? Did you see her? Idiota!”

And I sat there as mi amigo sauntered over towards the couple. Yes, he sauntered. I saw the look in the woman’s eye and quickly realized that Miguel was not interested in a threesome. I then saw the look in the man’s eyes when he realized he was going to spend the evening watching poker on television. Latino men do not share their women.

Mucho Amor,

El Guapo