Hot Tacos

Each summer the Coast Guard Cutter Minnetonka out of Long Beach, California, took aboard reservists for their annual active duty training.

In July 1955 the Phoenix, Arizona unit augmented the regular crew while Minnetonka patrolled a yacht race from San Diego, California to Acapulco, Mexico.

Shortly before sailing all hands mustered on the fantail for a briefing by officers and leading petty officers. The reserve CO stressed to his men that they were going into a foreign country, and while in that country they represented the United States of America. He expected exemplary conduct. His list of things to avoid included excessive drinking, fighting and fooling around with the local women. "The policia have no qualms about throwing an American sailor in the hoosegow," Also, he emphasized, "Don't buy food from street vendors."

The cruise south was uneventful with sunshine and gentle swells pushed by a steady breeze. Flying fish skimmed the water, and several times a pod of porpoise surfed on the bow wave. At night a glowing trail of phosporus skittered and danced like frenzied insects in a luminous green path behind Minnetonka. The slow pace however, induced heavy rolls. Several of the reservistsl, having not yet regained their sea legs, were often found barfing off the fantail.

Excitement heightened when the anchor plunged into Acapulco Bay. LCDR Carlson, the ship's CO, announced port and starboard liberty so everyone had a chance to go ashore for one of the two days scheduled in port.

A couple of the Phoenix reservists spent an afternoon visiting Acapulco's cantinas, sampling the local cerveza and eying the senoritas. On their way back to the harbor one of the giddy sailors spied a taco cart. "Hey," he said. "I'm getting hungry. How about you?"

His buddy reminded him of the skipper's comment about street vendors.

"I know," his friend replied. "But what can be wrong with a taco from a cart? Look, you can see the steam rising up. It's got to be hot. That would kill any germs or whatever the old man's afraid of."

After discussing the issue for about ten seconds, they each bought a taco.

The first sailor took a bite. "Hey, that's pretty good," he said around a mouthful of food. Turning to the vendor he pointed to the taco and asked, "What kind of meat do you use in here?"

The Mexican shrugged his shouldersl, "No hablo Inglish."

After searching his brain to recall words from his high school Spanish, the American said, "Que carne es?"

The vendor's face brightened. "Gato," he replied.

"Que es gato?" the sailor responded with a puzzled look.

"Gato, gato," the Mexican said with a wide grin. "Kitty, kitty."

Story ID:	3062
Written by:	James Baker (bio, contact, other stories)
Organization:	Writers' Circle
Story type:	Story
Location:	Acapulco Mexico
Year:	1955
Person:	Two sailors