Ah Juanita...

The year was 1979 and I had just gotten divorced for the first time. Wait, why lie now? I was at the end of a 12 year marriage to the impossible Barbara and I went to Tucson to spend an evening with an old buddy from Chicago, ironically the same guy that introduced me to my wife, many years ago, Fred. Fred and his lovely wife Lois had relocated to Tucson, from Chicago a few years ago and opened a bar on Speedway named, of all things, "The Chicago Bar". Fred and I had been friends for many years and we decided to go out and have a few drinks. Fred knew the territory and I was just along for the ride and the drinks. We went to some hotel and there she sat, all along just listening to the band and enjoying a drink that had an umbrella in it. Heavy drinkers don't drink umbrella drinks, usually beer or something that tastes like booze. I didn't want a drunk! I approached the lovely lady and asked if I could sit with her? She nodded yes. I sat down and began entering into a conversation with her. The first thing I asked was her name and she said it was Juanita. A little shocked, she was not of Hispanic origin and when I asked why she had a Hispanic name, she very matter of factly answered, that her mother just liked it. In addition, as beautiful as Juanita was and she was pretty with her blond hair and blue eyes, she had a speech impediment that caused her to sound like a child, like a baby, if you will? I found it hard to have an intelligent conversation with this child as attractive as she was. Juanita was a registered nurse at the local Tucson hospital and we kind of hit it off. Frankly I don't remember the outcome of the first night we met but I did have her phone number and she became my Tucson girlfriend.

From that point on, whenever I went to Tucson to see my old buddy Fred, I stayed at Juanita's apartment. One night we were leaving the Chicago Bar and heading for Juanita's apartment. I felt we had both had enough to drink and just wanted to rest. As I was driving past a Circle K, suddenly Juanita yelled, "Quick, turn into that Circle K"! Ignoring her, I casually asked what she needed at the store that we couldn't due without until morning? She looked at me with those eyes, you girls know the ones I'm talking about, the innocent eyes and said, whipped cream! The ones that suggest a lot more than just a sweet topping for pies and cakes. I quickly made a u-turn and pulled into Circle K with tires screeching! We went to her place.

The next morning when I awoke, I was alone and that didn't surprise me. I knew that Juanita had to go in early and I knew my way around her place alone. I recall laughing when I realized I was covered with dried whip cream and quickly showered and got dressed to drive home. I remember I had a 75 white Corvette during those days. As I got into the car and closed the door, I think I drove around a mile when I realized a bee had gotten into the car with me and he was not happy. I tried opening the window while driving down the freeway, but her would not take the hint. He buzzed and drove me crazy for miles. I finally pulled over and opened the windows and doors, still he insisted on staying in the back of the car, somewhere. As soon as I started driving, he started buzzing again and letting me know how mad he was.

At about the 20 mile point I noticed a dairy farm and could actually smell the soured milk that I found kind of nauseating. As I drove farther away, the smell got stronger if anything. How is it that I could smell the sour milk from a dairy farm, from this far away? And what did they do with this sour milk to make it smell so bad? I think I was at Pichacho Peak when I realized the horrible smell of sour milk was not from the dairy farm, but from the dried whipped cream inside my nose! 

I arrived at my office and I knew I had two things to do immediately. First I had to get that mad bee out of my car, so I addressed that first. As he flew out to a strange environment, I realized he was in big trouble with his own family and friends at the hive, not to mention he wouldn't know a soul here in Phoenix. The next thing I needed to do was figure out a way to get that sour smell out of my nose. I never saw Juanita again, however the divorce was forthcoming!