It was an unusually cold night for Las Vegas, it was freezing. I was told it was forty-three degrees but I questioned the source of the information. It felt much colder than what the inebriated meteorologist told me. I'm sure it was a guess, not a fact. He staggered off then his knees gave way and he dropped to the asphalt like a bag of rocks. I heard the muffled sound of glass breaking when he kissed the pavement. I figured it was a bottle stashed in his pocket. He didn't move, just layed there in the street. No, I didn't run to assist him. You may think I'm a cold hearted bastard but you learn quickly what the rules are in the concrete metropolis. I briefly thought of stealing his coat, but decided against it. I'm not that type of thief. As I started to walk away I heard him bitching about the unfortunate fate of his bottle breaking. He began yelling at me, every other word a profanity. It reminded me of the lyrics to an old N.W.A rap song I hadn't heard in a long while.

There was a bolstering wind accompanying the frigid temperature making conditions more difficult to contend with.

I arrived at the homeless shelter after curfew and was denied entry. Out by 7:00 am, no entry until 6:00pm, curfew 8:00pm. Now I was faced with nowhere to take cover. I had been thrown out of almost every Casino in downtown Vegas. They had me pegged and there was no chance of entering through a side entrance. Cameras have been installed in Casinos covering every inch of the place. They had facial recognition hardware installed on their computers as well.

I considered what options were available while shivering in my T-shirt and cutoffs. There was a shirt in my backpack, severely wrinkled, stained with blood and a stink from body odor and vomit. I put it on anyway despite its flaws and I gagged a little from the odor.

I was too far from the Bus Station, a great spot until the cops came around asking to see your ticket. Everywhere I thought of was a discouraging distance.

The reason for my excursion to the downtown location was to score some Heroin. That never happened, he sold out before I arrived and he wouldn't re-up again until much later. His connection was probably out eating Sushi while his customers were Jonesin' in the streets.

I had a small amount of cash I made creating signs for Panhandlers who begged at street corners or Highway off ramps. I had quite a few clients requiring my creative talent. They could've made them themselves but they're too lazy to do what it takes to earn a dishonest dollar. I collect large cardboard boxes from behind a furniture store. They yield great strong cardboard for creating signs. On occasion I find perfectly sized plywood pieces from the Glass and Mirror shop that were thrown away. I had large magic markers, in four different colors, sharpies and grease pens, I had pilfered from Art Stores, Office Depots and UPS stores. The message written on the signs had to spark people's emotions of sympathy and compassion. Although I found what worked best were humorous sayings. If you can make people laugh they seem to become more giving than when a depressing message is displayed. There's enough sadness, no there's an excess of sadness in this world. I'll give you some examples of messages and I'm not claiming authorship.

"Mother dying Cancer need ticket home."

" Son's birthday help buy him a present."

Haven't had a beer in a week.. I need a beer."

" Need DNA test think my girlfriend is my sister"

"Lost job. Evicted. Living In car. Wife, 3 kids. Please help.

I made a sick mother sign for a guy named Bart who proved not to be very bright. He was working the Interstate off ramp during rush hour in the morning and afternoon. He returned to the shelter that night excited, sporting a huge grin.

" Want to tell you Santiago, the sign works great. I made a hundred forty seven dollars in about two hours. You're a genius man, thanks."

Two weeks later he came back to me with an angry grimace.

" Your sign is a piece of shit. I worked all morning and late afternoon and I only made eleven dollars."

" Sorry Bart, where were you working?"

" My spot. The same place I work all the time. I got to work it every day or somebody will steal it."

" Man, you aren't very bright. Think about what I am going to tell you Einstein. You can't work the same off ramp for two weeks with a sign saying your mom is dying. Those people use that entrance and exit, going to and coming home from work everyday. They've seen you for two weeks, every day at the same place they know you're full of shit. Man, where are your brains? Move around, work a different area now and then. Why don't you work with Jesus and his buddies? They change places with each other every couple of days."

" I don't like Mexicans, they come up here taking jobs

from us Americans. They can't speak English, don't pay taxes and get free hospital care. You know?"

" Do you know my name is Santiago and it isn't a German or English name, it's most commonly used in Mexico or South America, doesn't it give you a clue?" I continue showing my disgust.

" Not one of those guys are Mexican. Danielo, Jose are from Peru. Arturo, Jacobo, Roberto are from Colombia and Mani (peanut) is from Honduras. Jesus is a Chicano, a United States Citizen and a Veteran. You, like all racists in the States think anyone from South of the border is Mexican. Tell me this Mr. American, What job did they steal from you? You haven't worked a day since I've been here. When the Day Labor guy comes around looking for workers you turn down work. Tell me when is the last time you paid taxes? Now get away from me, I won't tolerate your racism."

He never talked to me again and I didn't miss his company.

It was close to 11:30 and I hadn't had anything to eat since yesterday afternoon. I started toward the interstate thinking there might be an underpass available but they filled up quickly and I forgot to make a reservation.

As I walked through an empty lot near an abandoned apartment building, I heard someone call my name. I searched in the darkness for who shouted out to me but I was unable to find the source. I didn't want to identify myself, it could be someone I owed money.

I rounded the corner and discovered a fire burning in an oil drum with a few people standing around it, rubbing their hands over the flames and doing that little dance everyone does attempting to get warm. I could feel someone walking up from behind me, I quickly turned around and was relieved that I recognized the guy with his arms full of wood. It was Tex, a guy I knew from working together on Day Labor jobs. He was a stand up guy, friendly and generous. Everyone liked Tex. He had that kind of thing about him.

" Good it is you. I thought so. What are you doing wandering around this time of night? Trying to get mugged or beat up?"

" Good to see ya Tex. It's been a couple months. What ya been up to?"

" Had a run in with the Security Guard at Albertsons. He caught me helping myself to some hot dogs and sandwich meat. The bastard chased me for five blocks and tackled me. He was fast for a fat guy. Judge gave me sixty in County. I looked for you when I was there, thought for sure I'd see you on the inside, with your shitty luck."

" No, been laying low these days not doing much of anything. Still making signs and living at the Hobo Hotel. I'm waiting on a moneygram from my brother to get the hell out of here. Heading to Colorado near Vail . He has a Painting Company and needs some help. It's a place to live and some money in my pocket

so I said yes."

" Hey Santiago, nice to see you."

Says Tex's girlfriend. She walks over to give me a hug and stops just a couple feet in front of me.

" You seriously need a shower and some other clothes. Ya smell worse than my first husband and he was a garbage man. It's nice to see you honey.

We talk about you all the time."

" Thanks CoTex, good to see you again. This shirt once had a better fragrance I'm sure, not that I can remember though"

Okay, I'm sure you're wondering about her name CoTex, so here you go.

We were extremely shit faced drunk. It was last Christmas Eve and we had rented a suite at the

4 Queens. I was a bit more liquid then and had a girlfriend.

She was a cocktail waitress at the Bellagio and I'm pretty sure did some freelance Call Girl work on the side or should I say on her ... no can't do it. She was an absolutely gorgeous Goddess, however there were three flaws in this gem of a lady. Number one ; she had the same name as my mother, Number two ; her laugh wasn't humorous, it was sinister, like the laugh of a witch. Number three; she was cross-eyed. She claimed it didn't obstruct her vision and she wore sunglasses most of the time in public. It was difficult to keep eye contact while talking and it didn't matter while having sex, she closed her eyes most of the time.

So back to the explanation, before I called her CoTex, , her actual name was Coco. Tex wanted to score some more Cocaine but Coco didn't want to spend the last of their money on drugs.

" I'll get a teener and you have the rest of the money, how does that sound?" Tex pleaded.

"Okay but give me the rest of the money to hold before you go!" She demanded.

"Do you want me to go with you, to go when you leave?" I asked, slurring my words. " Should I stay with Co, I burped, CoTex? I just called you CoTex." I began laughing. "That's an awesome street name, Tex and CoTex!"

It's like Sonny and Cher. Tex and CoTex! I love it!"

She wasn't fond of the name at first but after a short while she grew to enjoy the notoriety associated with the name.

Tex moves closer to take a whiff of me, reacting as though it was the most horrific scent he had ever smelled. The three Hispanic looking muchachos start laughing at his reaction to the odor of my shirt. Then I joined in, finding it less embarrassing by laughing with everyone.

" Come'on Santiago, I've got a jacket in my backpack you can borrow for the night." Tex offers.

"Thanks jefe, appreciate it."

I quickly take off the shirt and throw it to the ground. Tex steps away from it as though it might have some contagious virus on it. He hands me a great jacket, more of a coat than a jacket. It swallowed me up and felt so warm.

"Thanks Tex this is so much better."

I walked closer to the fire and the three guys scoot around the barrel giving me plenty of space. I look down at the front of the jacket and get a sinking feeling in my stomach. I see a large orange capital "D" with a horse on its hind legs exhaling smoke from its nostrils. If you are familiar with anything about me, you'd know I'm a Raiders fan. A devoted fan since I was eight years old. The Raiders Number One rival are the Denver Broncos, which I refer to as the Denver Donkeys. There I was wearing a Denver Broncos jacket. I felt as though I was a traitor although a warm traitor.

A dog wanders in, takes a quick whiff of my shirt and jumps back making a low growl. Then he walks toward it on the ground, lifts his leg and pisses on it. I pickup a piece of firewood and throw it at him but it doesn't scare him off. Instead the son of a bitch comes at me full speed, growling with teeth showing. I had little time to react, as I turned to run, the Canine sunk his full mouth of canines into my left leg calf muscle. He didn't latch on but immediately he let go then biting over and over. I'm screaming at the dog from hell, kicking at him with my other foot. Everyone is in between yelling at the dog or laughing at the spectacle.

A well dressed guy with a leash in hand runs up yelling, " Heel Nipper, Heel damn it!"

Finally the savage attack ends as the dog "Nipper" is restrained.

"Are you okay?" Armani suit guy asks.

"Nipper! His name is Nipper? You should call him Chomper for Christ's sake. No, I don't think so, my leg is bleeding and there's meat from my muscle hanging out. No, definitely not okay."

"Damn I'm so sorry. I don't need this right now. Can we not notify the Police. The Gaming Commission is breathing down my neck, I'm going through a nasty divorce and my car was stolen yesterday. What do you say Pal?"

"He's gonna need a Doctor, his leg is torn up pretty bad and I think he's gonna need stitches." Doctor CoTex gives her professional opinion.

" Hey, what's your name?"

"Santiago."

"Santiago, I'm Teddy, I run the Binion Horseshoe Casino. My condo is right across the street. Can you walk?"

" Come on Santi, I'll give you a hand" Tex offers while petting the rabid dog. See everyone likes Tex.

With the support of Tex and CoTex I hop across the lot into a gated community of condominiums, my leg bleeding profusely. We stop outside Ted's place and sit on a bench near the front door. After a short while he returns with a towel to wrap around my leg.

" Listen, I've got it all worked out. A car will be here to pick you up in ten minutes and take you to the Apache Hotel where I reserved you a suite for a couple of days. The Hotel doctor will take care of your injury and get you fixed up, here's three hundred bucks to keep me out of the story. Order what you want from room service and I'll check on you tomorrow after my hearing with the Commission. Sound good to you Santiago?

"You've got a deal Ted. Don't worry, not a word. Is it alright if my friends come along?"

"Sure, fine, no problem. Your ride is here. Let me know what the Doctor says. Good night."

"Good night Ted, talk with you in the morning."

A limousine parks in front of us and the Chauffeur gets out and opens the door motioning for us to enter. Tex picks me up and carries me inside. CoTex follows while waving goodbye to my new best friend,Ted.

We wait until the limo pulls out and in unison we start laughing and slapping high fives.

" Santiago you have the worst luck of anyone I've ever known but somehow, someway you always come out of it better off."

CoTex says.

The radio is on and the D.J gives a weather report, " It's a cold one in Sin City tonight boys and girls. Thirty-eight on the strip and a frigid Thirty-four degrees downtown. Better bring in your Brass Monkeys."

"Look there's beer and tiny little

bottles of Champagne." CoTex giggles.

"Here's a C-note for you two and you can stay with me as long as you want."

"You're a good friend Santiago."

Tex grabs my hand.

I then realized it was probably the best compliment anyone could ever say about you.

"You're a good friend."

By Judge Santiago Burdon

From: Costa Rica