Lent #6

Guardian Angel Ruben

I am not sure where he came from, but by the time I was 17 he seemed like a permanent fixture in my life. My best friend had been hanging around with a group of Lebanese ex-patriots who enjoyed frequenting bars featuring Drag Queen Shows. Ruben was one of the performers and I think he had ingratiated himself with these PLO flunkies and had thus entered into my life.

 It was my junior year in high school and I had made it a habit of cruising the main drag in central Phoenix on Friday and Saturday nights. My friend drove most of the time, primarily because her truck was way cooler than either of my gas guzzling late ‘70s sedans I had to choose from. These nights were filled with all sorts of events that were fun, exciting, unexpected and in retrospect very dangerous. No matter what happened, my friend and I felt confident and strong and invulnerable. Even when a police Swat team ran over our car as we sat in the drive thru of a liquor store waiting to buy our underage booty of Peppermint Schnapps, we felt that the wheel of fate always turned in our favor.

One night we managed to sufficiently anger a group of girls who were either gang members or students from the other Catholic high school. A verbal screaming match between cars ensued and a wreckless driving melee broke out. These girls were fierce. They raced us down the city streets and attempted to swerve into our side while shouting a litany of threats. My friend and I attempted to ditch and deflect with all of our combined street knowledge, yet nothing dissuaded them. They seemed out for blood or at least a clump of hair.

Finally, we knew what to do. We would head start to Ruben’s house! Arriving at the shabby Craftsman located adjacent to the soon-to-be freeway interchange, we jumped from the truck and ran screaming into the yard. “Help! Ruben help!” Out of the house came a robe-clad, 6’3”, half-man, half-woman, “What the hell is going on?” We begged again for help and gave a very abbreviated explanation while cowering behind the partially dressed drag queen. He was enraged. He stormed toward our adversary’s vehicle and we watched as their eyes widened and they began to retreat back into their car from open windows and doors. I don’t think the driver put the brake on when she flipped the car into gear and screeched away while yelling, “You all are a bunch of freaks!”

“You girls need to come inside and cool off a little and give them some space!” was Ruben’s only remark and we followed him inside. As we passed a couple of his roommates he announced that we should not be offered any drugs because we were, “good” girls. His bedroom contained a wardrobe of flamboyant plus-sized dresses and shoes. Off came his robe and underneath were only his boxer shorts. We watched as he strapped his fleshy chest into a laced bustier. “This is how I get my tits,” he explained. Within about an hour he had become a she, and was ready to go earn a living. We thanked him again and he advised us to, “Please be safe.”

I don’t know when we stopped having contact with Ruben but I always think of him when I see his house at that freeway exit. He was a protector from the most unlikely place.

Who are the unexpected angels in your life?