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The sun shined over the harbor like a beacon of warmth and joy. Marko rolled his stretched FXR into the sunlight for a ride to a hearty breakfast at the Pacific Diner and to tease the cute waitresses.
Frankie pushed his rolling trashcan strapped with cleaning supplies. The large galvanized tin can had wheels and rolled onto the warming asphalt where he went to work. It was early. There were hardly any cars in the parking lot except the galley crews, Bandit’s Cantina Ford supply van and Margaret’s battered Toyota pickup.
Marko and Bandit warned her about enabling her lanky teenager, but she kept buckling and he kept fucking up, now in jail for his second DUI and hitting a kid on a bicycle. The kid was okay, nothing broken, but Margaret’s son faced attempted manslaughter charges. He was going away for awhile. His life was fucked, despite having one of the most wonderful women on the planet for a mom.
As Frankie watched Margaret unload her gear from her car, an old pink VW bus rumbled into the Cantina parking lot sporting M.A.D.D. vinyl stickers on the sides. It rattled up to a parking spot close to the entrance.
Three pink t-shirt uniformed ladies scrambled out of the VW to face Margaret.
“Hello,” Elizabeth, the leader, snapped. “We’re with Mothers Against Drunk Drivers.”
Elizabeth looked to be 50 and very round, with butch cropped hair, a bad complexion and a somber attitude. Margaret wondered if this woman ever had a good time in her life. As it turned out, she never did and a drunk driver didn’t help.
“We are on our way to the mayor’s office with a mandate to install zero tolerance into our drinking laws,” Elizabeth stated and all three stood at attention as she rolled. “My son was killed in a car accident due to a drunk driver, and I will never stop until zero tolerance is applied across this nation.”
“I’m listening,” Margaret said respectfully, “but generally you are saying that you want to torture all citizens to make up for the death of your son? But go ahead.”
“We have established tougher alcohol limits, wet laws, and stronger restrictions for offenders, but there’s more to do,” Elizabeth said, her sourpuss expression expanding.
One of the other women stepped forward. “I’m Mary,” she said. “My husband became a alcoholic and left me for a woman at a bar. We think bars should be shut down so men will go home to their families.” She stood two inches taller than her partner. Her long stringy hair was disheveled. She had no make-up on and sharp angular features, like she was a young boy who never filled out, but her face was hard and drawn.
Margaret listened intently and another car pulled into the parking lot. It was Tina in her ’52 Chevy. Upgraded mechanically, she still couldn’t afford to have the headliner replaced, the seats covered or a new paint job. She peeled her 5’7” beautiful frame out of the driver’s seat and was a luscious redheaded sight to see in her skimpy Spanish, waitress outfit with her boobs bubbling over her top.
She strolled right up to the group in front of the doorway like a beautiful blossoming flower in the morning sunlight. “What’s happening?” Tina said.
“Plus, we are considering breathalyzers at the doors of bars, but I would shut them all down,” Mary snapped. “Husbands need to be at home with their kids.”
Tina’s bright and shining demeanor turned quickly glum. “Have you ever done time?” she asked, and Mary stepped back startled. Tina worked bars for over a decade and could read people quickly.
“Yes,” Mary said. “Manslaughter for killing my drunken husband with a frying pan.”
“Wow,” Tina said.
The other girl stepped to the forefront as if to defend her sisters. “This is Brenda,” Elizabeth said. She was tall and gaunt. Her dark hair was pulled into a tight ponytail. It pulled at her forehead and eyebrows as if a cheap facelift. Her skin was alabaster and pure, maybe Italian. But her mouth wrinkled in a strange way.
Brenda shook slightly and lit a cigarette. Nervous and angry, she gritted her stained teeth and started to snarl. “We can’t talk to these bitches,” she said and stammered. “They are sinners. They live in sin and degradation. It’s God’s will that we make it virtually impossible for anyone to drink and drive.”
Just then Sheila rode her bicycle into the parking lot and pulled up next to the girls. She was even taller than Tina and a wavy blonde. “What’s this about God?”
“It’s God’s will that we take the sins of liquor away from the public,” Brenda snorted and puffed wildly on her cigarette.
Sheila dismounted from her bicycle and locked it to the adjacent metal post. Marko implanted the parking lot steel tubing for Sheila and Frankie, who also rode a bike. She also looked healthy and vibrant. She once had a drinking/drug problem and with the help of the Cantina crew overcame the addiction and devastation. She trained at the gym twice a week and rode her mountain bike three miles to work every day, then hustled about the Cantina for seven hours a day.
Margaret turned to Sheila as she approached. “These ladies are all about zero tolerance,” she said. “They want to put an end to drinking and drinking and driving.”
“I understand,” Sheila said. “I had a problem once, and now I work in a bar.” She looked at Brenda and took a deep breath. “I also had a problem with religion once, but we won’t go there right now, but I do have a problem with zero and it involves Bandit’s grandson. His education was stunted and he was expelled at age 16 because of a zero violence tolerance at his high school. Remember?”
“That’s right,” Tina said. “That kid worked hard in school. But when bullies messed with one of his friends, a much smaller kid, he defended him. Then he caught two guys jacking with a girl behind one of the buildings and they threw the book at him. Zero tolerance allowed the school to expel him without even looking at who was wrong or right.”
Sheila watched the nervous one throw her cigarette butt on the asphalt and stamp on it with her tattered pink flats. They needed care and polish, but it made Sheila think. Frankie will be forced to sweep up their litter. Couldn’t the self-righteous pick up their butts?
“Wait a minute,” she said. “You just disrespected my boss’s property. And what about zero tolerance when it comes to smoking. I believe about 40,000 people are killed annually in car accidents and 500,000 die each year from cancer. What gives? Hell, I personally think smokers should be left alone, not picked on or outlawed.”
Tina turned to Elizabeth and said, “Wait a minute. My father died of diabetes, primarily because he was obese. Some 80,000 folks die of diabetes each year. Maybe there should be a zero tolerance when it comes to food consumption. Maybe we should ban all donut shops and fast food outlets?”
The conversation started to get heated when Margaret stepped up and poked Mary in the chest.
“How about zero tolerance for spousal abuse. I’ve been down that road,” Margaret barked. “I could go to jail for simply raising my voice to you or poking you in the chest, no matter what you did or said to me.”
The M.A.D.D. contingent started to back up. Margaret continued to push forward.
“We’re all just human beings. We may make mistakes in your eyes, but we live in a free country where we can make our own choices, whether to eat a donut, smoke a cigarette or have a drink before noon. What the fuck?”
The pink team jumped into the dinged van and fired it to life. Elizabeth rolled the passenger window down and it creaked in the rusting runners. But before she poked her head into the window, the three Cantina girls jumped into her face.
“We will be at the next city council meeting along with all the bar girls and owners in this area,” said Margaret.
“Yeah,” Tina hollered. “Get the fuck outta here.”
Sheila just waved as the smoking VW rattled out of the parking lot. “It never ends,” she said. “The control freaks can’t ever leave well enough alone.”
“Where’s the Chinaman?” Tina asked. “Let’s split a breakfast burrito and some of his wonderful morning orange and tangerine juice.”
“They can’t take this place away from us,” Margaret said. “It’s the best home I ever had.”
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