{"id":7783,"date":"2015-02-23T21:53:58","date_gmt":"2015-02-23T21:53:58","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/georgethomasclark.com\/?p=7783"},"modified":"2015-02-24T03:42:57","modified_gmt":"2015-02-24T03:42:57","slug":"teatro-juarez","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/georgethomasclark.com\/teatro-juarez\/","title":{"rendered":"Teatro Juarez"},"content":{"rendered":"
Clyde definitely yawned, and perhaps growled, at several unfunny clowns mimicking idiots in front of the illuminated stone columns of Teatro Juarez in Guanajuato and resolved to escape and see the real show. He waded through hundreds of observers, amid thousands of tourists hiking by, and shoved aside one clown on the steps and climbed to the theater entrance where a gaudily uniformed guard said, \u201cSorry, Se\u00f1or, only special guests for the grand opening.\u201d<\/p>\n
\t\u201cNonsense. This place debuted more than a century ago.\u201d<\/p>\n
\t\u201cDon\u2019t be foolish. This palace of the arts opens tonight and will be blessed by the great man who built it, President Porfirio D\u00edaz.\u201d <\/p>\n
\tHe wedged by the guard who grabbed his shoulders but released when Clyde fired a short left uppercut to the solar plexus, knocking him gagging on the floor. Two more guards rushed over and Clyde said, \u201cI\u2019m a doctor. This man\u2019s suffering from acute appendicitis and must be hospitalized at once.\u201d <\/p>\n
\tAs the guards knelt to comfort their comrade, Clyde casually walked to the stairs and began climbing and rose to the second and third and fourth and fifth levels and stepped out of the hall and into the theater to view a stage fronted by massive red curtains and crowned by a mosaic ceiling and ornate blue and white chandelier. What a magnificent place, he thought, but I\u2019m too high here. He descended to the second floor Sal\u00f3n Fumador \u2013 the smoking lounge \u2013 and encountered a handsome and finely dressed group of men and women. When two guards entered the elegant space Clyde slipped around one end of the long bar and kneeled, brushing the floor with his hands, telling a bartender, \u201cI\u2019ve knocked a few of my diamonds off the bar and believe they\u2019re right here.\u201d When the conscientious bartender squatted to help, Clyde handed him four twenty-dollar bills. <\/p>\n
\t\u201cSe\u00f1or, your generosity is astonishing.\u201d<\/p>\n
\t\u201cWhat year is it, anyway?\u201d<\/p>\n
\t\u201cIt\u2019s 1903, of course.\u201d<\/p>\n
\tA fiver would\u2019ve sufficed, Clyde concluded, and continued searching and in a few minutes peeped around the corner of the bar, seeing no guards. \u201cGracias, Se\u00f1or, my diamonds don\u2019t seem to be here, but if they turn up, they\u2019re yours.\u201d He patted the shoulder of a smiling man. <\/p>\n
\tClyde decided to wait in a stall in the men\u2019s room until theater lights dimmed and the music of Verdi\u2019s A\u00edda began when he moved to the first floor concourse. As he touched the door to enter the theater proper another guard enveloped him from behind, pining Clyde\u2019s arms and giving him his first real chance to use a technique long practiced: with his right hand he grabbed the guard\u2019s testicles, squeezed mightily, and turned to administer his redoubtable left, this time a hook to the jaw. A dozen guards charged and he dashed into the theater, shouting, \u201cWhere\u2019s the presidential box?\u201d<\/p>\n
\tNo one answered but many looked to the second-floor box near the stage. <\/p>\n
\tAiming his mouth at the gray walrus mustache of President Porfirio D\u00edaz, Clyde shouted, \u201cSwine. For thirty years you\u2019ve strangled democracy while feeding the bank accounts of your reactionary supporters. Stand up when I talk to you.\u201d<\/p>\n
\tDiminutive D\u00edaz in fact already stood, next to his taller wife, and raised his right hand before swinging down and ordering: \u201cFire.\u201d <\/p>\n