"I say boom chica boom, boom chica boom, boom chica boom"
The actual Cuban Pete died a couple of years back. How did that one get past Al?
When I was about nine we stopped in Little Havana on vacation. I heard the song playing and chimed in. The locals thought it was funny, but my Aunt thought differently. She slapped me in the back of the head and whispered sternly, "Do you want to get us killed?"
I think she was still traumatized by the cross country train trip when she brought me back from Los Angeles to live with my Grandparents a couple of years before? Must have been all the tunnels and curves coming through the Rockies. I tried to comfort here by showing her my Superman run, blasting through the automatic doors Hell bent for leather from one end of that train to the other, but even that didn't help. She was naturally high strung. She kept telling the conductors every time I did it, "He's not mine, he's not mine." Well, duh. We didn't look a thing alike.
That Florida tip was was a cool, I saw the hairiest human being I've ever seen in Key West. He resembled the Dos Equis guy, wore nothing but white speedo's, a white captains hat and flip-flops. He shaved down to the base of his neck, the rest of him was covered in thick mat of curly hair the same color as the hair on his head. I hoped to grow up to that hairy, you know how the chicks love it, but it didn't happen. Moderately hairy but not Aran sweater hairy like that guy. We can't have everything.
The Aunt was still up to her old nefarious tricks. We were at a gator viewing platform in the Everglades. There was big sign that said not to feed or throw things at the alligators. The Aunt wanted a pic of a big alligator with it's jaws open and encouraged me to pelt one with rocks. I was perplexed, obey federal law or hear about it from the Aunt all the way home? As she did our cooking at home by then, my Grandmother had died, I had to go with my stomach.
I started pelting that gator for all I was worth, but in south Florida good rocks are rare, I had to use hunks of wood. Almost immediately I heard a stern voice say, "Get that kid under control, lady, or we'll ban you from the park!" It was the ranger. What did I hear in response, "He's not mine! He's not mine!" Mom bopped her with a shoe when we got back in the car with a threat I can't repeat here in case there are kiddies reading.
That was a great trip. The real Florida, before Disney ruined it and South Beach was still a place where the old New Yorkers came to die.