By Jeff Valdez
I recently saw and immensely enjoyed the movie, Crazy Rich Asians, yet find myself wondering, when will there be a “Crazy Rich Mexicans” movie? Sadly, most of the images we see of Mexicans on movie screens, are drug dealers and rapists (compliments of the President). In other words, all we ever get is, “Crazy Mexicans,” without the “Rich,” part. Then it occurred to me that I actually have a true, “Crazy Rich Mexican” story.
I realized it the other night when my wife and I were at dinner with several other couples and someone asked the usual question, “So how did you two meet?” Everybody went around the table. Most of the stories were standard stuff: met at work, met online, met at a bar; then it was our turn so I begged their patience and began…
“It was Cinco De Mayo and my roommate George and I were hosting an awards show at the Kennedy Center, in Washington D.C. At that time in my life, I was a standup comic and a serial bachelor. I had no interest in getting married, having kids, or even a semi-serious relationship for that matter. Anyway, George and I were looking for cute girls to meet at the after party. We spotted a small group of women walking towards us and I noticed one girl in particular. She wore a navy-blue blazer with silver buttons, had flowing auburn hair and perfect olive skin. It was weird: like lightening hit me. I looked at George and said, “Oh my God, that’s the woman I’m going to marry.” She whipped her hair and I swear to God the whole thing was in slo-mo. Her hair flew side-to-side like a shampoo commercial and settled on her shoulders.
I finally snapped out of my slo-mo dream only to see George making a move on her. I immediately inserted myself in between them, “Hi,” I said to her. “I was wondering if I could buy you breakfast, lunch, dinner, get married, have kids?” She smiled and with the most adorable Mexican accent inquired, “How many kids?” Without missing a beat, I answered, “As many as you want.” She responded, “You’re crazy.” I quickly countered, “No, actually I’m smitten.” Again, she smiled and said, “That sounds so sweet, but English is my second language and I don’t know what “smitten” means.”
By this point George and her friends were all eyes and ears waiting for my response. I gulped and replied, “I don’t think I could give you a dictionary definition of the word, but I can tell you how smitten feels. It feels like the first time I ever saw the sunset over the ocean.” A sweet grin came to her face. We chatted a bit more and she eventually wrote her phone number on a piece of paper. As George and I walked away, I was joyfully holding the scrap of paper like a winning lotto ticket.
The next day, George and I were in my hotel room, I excitedly called the number she gave me. The voice on the other end answered, “White House.” I immediately hung up and told George, “Dude, I can’t believe she works at the White House!” I again called the number and asked for Ana Ramirez, they said she was at a meeting at the Mexican Embassy. I left my name and number. I hung up looked at George; knowing we would be catching a plane back to LA the next day and said, “I’ll probably never see her again, that sucks.”
Later that night, George and I were invited to a black tie event with over two thousand people. After an hour or so of rubbing elbows with the Beltway elite, I heard a familiar voice behind me, “Excuse me, but the program is about to start and you are standing in front of my chair.”
I prayed my ears weren’t deceiving me, as I knew that voice. I turned around and it was her. I actually blurted out, “I’m never letting you out of my sight again.” She looked a bit surprised and then laughed and said, “You really are crazy.” I thought, what were the odds; out of two thousand seats, I was standing in front of the one that belonged to her. I asked if she would join me for a drink afterwards. She agreed, as long as her friend Susie could come along.
After the event, Ana, Susie and I went for a drink. I even convinced Ana to slow dance with me. To this day, I could tell you what the temperature of the nape of her back was, as my fingers made contact with her for the first time. While we danced, she revealed to me that she had recently ended her engagement to Tomas, a Mexican diplomat who she unfortunately still had to interact with through her work in Washington D.C. and in Mexico City. She said she was at peace with the split, but she didn’t think that he was.
Over the next several weeks, Ana and I talked on the phone every day for hours. It was like being in Junior High again. We proceeded to date cross-country for several months. When I went to visit her, Ana and I would have meals with her D.C. friends who worked at places like The World Bank and IMF. The dinner conversations were about major global issues. In LA, we would meet with all my showbiz friends, which prompted Ana one night to ask me, “Do people in LA only talk about themselves?”
On one of my trips to D.C. Ana and I were at a dinner at an Embassy Row restaurant and her ex-fiancé, Tomas happened to be there too. He saw us and began to make a scene. I took him aside and told him that he needed to move on. He started cursing me out in Spanish. I could only laugh at his tongue lashing and told him I had no idea what he was saying, as I didn’t speak Spanish very well. That only infuriated him more. I had a feeling this was not the last I would see of him.
During one of our marathon phone calls, Ana told me that her brother Carlos was getting married in Mexico City and thought it was a perfect opportunity for me to meet her family. I agreed. I called my Mom to let her know that I was dating someone special and I was going to Mexico City to meet her family. My Mom had always wanted me to marry a nice Mexican girl; considering up to that point in my life, almost all of the women I dated were blondes with father issues.
My Mom said, “Make sure and take an extra suitcase with old clothes and some blankets for her family. When we were poor, people always helped us and we should always give back.” I suddenly realized that I had no idea about Ana’s family’s financial position. I was so busy being head over heels for her, that it never occurred to me; nor was it important. But so as to respect my Mom’s intuition, I packed an extra huge suitcase for the trip.
On the plane, Ana I talked about how excited I was to go back to my motherland and how I was so proud to be Mexican. She immediately corrected me, “You are not Mexican, you are an American, and when you get to Mexico you will see.” I disagreed but was soon to find out how right she was.
When we arrived, I had no idea that Mexico City was seven thousand feet in altitude. It was December, so it was freezing. I brought clothing on this trip that only an ignorant American would bring; t-shirts jeans and shorts, none of which came in handy. My first night in town, Ana’s family took us to dinner at an elegant place called La Hacienda De Morales. I could have been in Beverly Hills for all I knew. It was so different than the images of Mexico and Mexicans, that I had ever seen in American movies.
As we sat in the bar area waiting for our dining table, it was quite apparent that I was severely underdressed in jeans, t-shirt and cowboy boots. Ana’s brother Carlos, her Mother Tere and her very distinguished Uncle Arturo, were all dressed in Zegna, Armani and Gucci. I decided that when I returned back to my hotel, I was going to toss my giant suitcase of second hand clothing; as it was obvious my Mom missed this one by a mile.
Uncle Arturo broke the ice, when he in the most demeaning of ways commented, “Jeff so I understand you’re… a magician.” I shot back, “Actually I’m a standup comedian, I hate magicians.” The waiter interrupted the tense moment when he brought a basket of tortilla chips with salt and limes, as well as four brandy snifters of tequila. Ana tried to redirect the conversation between Arturo and I. She proposed a toast. The family raised their brandy snifters of tequila. I instead reached down, grabbed the salt, sprinkled it on my hand, licked it, threw the tequila straight back and finished by biting into the lime and letting out a loud, “Aghhh!” They all were frozen with their glasses still in the toasting position. Unsure who should say something, Uncle Arturo looked at me and queried, “Jeff, why did you do that?” I confidently said, “That’s how you drink tequila.” He quickly countered, “No that is how you drink cheap bad tequila, this is a Portfidio Reserva De La Familia and is five hundred dollars a bottle, it is to be enjoyed like a nice cognac. Please don’t waste it. Score, Crazy Rich Mexicans one, clueless American, zero.
A few minutes later, Ana’s ex-fiancé Tomas happened to show up at our table explaining he was in town for work at the Embassy and for Carlos’ wedding, at the invitation of Uncle Arturo. He was dressed to the nines and swirling his oh so expensive brandy snifter of tequila like an expert; all the while maintaining the smuggest of expressions. He briefly spoke to her family in perfect Spanish and left. Needless to say, it was obvious he wasn’t over Ana yet. For the first time, I was starting to wonder if she was really over him.
The next day, Ana took me sightseeing to Teotihuacan, the massive pyramid outside of Mexico City also known as “The Pyramid of the Sun.” As we were mid-way up the two hundred and forty-eight steps, I was gasping for air, only to notice a woman who was easily in her seventies wearing a dress and in high heels, effortlessly climbed right past me. When we got to the top, Ana and I laid head to head and meditated. I had never meditated in my life before, but what a place to try it for the first time. It was an incredibly special moment. I found myself feeling even more crazy about her and realizing she was right, I wasn’t Mexican, I was an American; in love with Mexico and a crazy rich Mexican girl.
Later that day, when we got back to Mexico City, Ana’s Uncle Arturo invited us to his private country club for dinner. I’ve been to several beautiful country clubs in Bel Air and Beverly Hills, but they paled in comparison to this one. Arturo, dressed in loud Versace tennis clothes, greeted us in the lounge, which overlooked the most beautiful clay courts. As we settled for a drink, you will never guess who just happened to be there; Tomas of course. This guy was like a rash I couldn’t get rid of. Arturo invited him to join us for a drink, to which Tomas quickly obliged. The conversation turned to tennis; when I revealed I was a pretty good tennis player, Arturo suggested that Tomas and I play a friendly game. Ana, tried to talk me out of taking Arturo’s bait. My ego didn’t hear a thing she said. I went to the pro shop and bought clothes that I would normally have never worn; they were bright, branded and obnoxious. I walked on the court in my blinged-out tennis outfit, with one objective, destroy Tomas!
What Arturo never bothered to tell me, was that Tomas was the former National Clay Court Champion of Mexico. Jump to 30 minutes later, I was drenched in sweat, my clothes tattered and covered with red clay. I looked like an extra from “The Walking Dead.” I also found out unlike a regular tennis court, one can do the splits, on clay. Meanwhile, Tomas, hadn’t even broken a sweat. I could see Arturo the whole time talking to Ana and pointing to us. I was sure he was telling her that I was out of my league and that she is supposed to marry a nice boy like Tomas, from a nice family like hers. The look on Ana’s face at the end of the match, told me that Arturo was getting through to her and she may be having doubts.
One of the plans prior to Carlos’s wedding, was for her to show me the “real” Mexico for a few days. Our first stop was at a place called, Africam, in the nearby city of Puebla. Africam, is the second largest private nature reserve in the world. Ana was friends with Amy, the CEO of the reserve. We stayed in a private house surrounded by every type of wild animal imaginable. As romantic as it seemed, it was impossible to sleep at night with all the boisterous noises of the nocturnal creatures surrounding us.
During our short stay, we got to see giraffes up close, pet a white rhino and feed real monkeys. Amy warned me not to ever make eye contact with a monkey when feeding them. I quickly found out why. When I handed a monkey a banana, I thought I would be funny to try and have a staring contest. The contest was short lived, as the monkey leaped onto my face and bit me on my head. That incident required three stitches and a rabies shot. Between the tequila and the monkey faux pas, I was worried I wasn’t making a great impression on Ana.
We then toured the magnificent cities of Taxco, San Miguel Allende and Queretaro. The final stop of our trip was the city of Guanajuato. If you blindfolded someone and dropped them in Guanajuato, they would think they were in Madrid. The plazas were rich with Spanish architecture, music and food. All the roads are mine shafts that run under the city. It was amazing! I think Ana was enjoying seeing my wide-eyed innocence of experiencing the “real” Mexico.
That afternoon, we were relaxing by the pool of our hotel. Our peace was interrupted by a father and his son, who had wandered into the deep end and couldn’t swim. It was one of those moments where everything goes into slo-mo. I jumped in, pulled the little boy out and tossed him to the side of the pool where Ana comforted him. The father by this point, was fighting to stay above water. As I reached for him, two full figured women fully clothed, who turned out to be the aunts of the family, jumped in to try and help. The problem was, they didn’t swim either. I don’t remember how, but I managed to get all three of them out and do CPR on one of the women who needed it by the time I got to her. When I was done, Ana wrapped me in a towel and congratulated me for saving four people’s lives, I noticed on the other side of the pool a Mexican preppie guy in a lawn chair drinking a brandy snifter of tequila. He reminded me entirely too much of Tomas. I was pissed, I asked him why he didn’t help. He just stared at me with a smug look, that I wanted to wipe off his face. Ana convinced me to go back to our room and avoid the conflict.
A few days later, we attended Ana’s brother’s wedding. It looked like the Royals were being wed. Horse drawn carriages, floral arrangements like I had never seen, oh and seven hundred guests. When Carlos and his wife-to-be, were kneeling at the alter in the cavernous cathedral, Ana’s brother suddenly keeled over and passed out in the middle of the ceremony. I helped get him outside for some fresh air and being a believer in signs, I delicately asked if he was sure that he wanted to go through with this. All I got was a dazed and confused look, he obviously needed more air. As I got Carlos stabilized, I felt a hand on my back. It was Ana’s Uncle Arturo. He said he was really impressed with the advice I was trying to give Carlos and also heard from Ana, about how I saved a family from drowning in Guanajuato. He admitted maybe he was wrong about me and said, “I promised Ana’s father, my brother, when he passed, that I would always look over her. I can see she really cares about you.” He paused for a beat, then finished. “If you ever hurt her, I will kill you.” He hugged me and welcomed me to the family and to Mexico. I wish I had a photo of my face at that moment.
The reception after the wedding, spared no expense. It was in the courtyard of an old Hacienda that looked straight out of a movie. The reception lasted until midnight, when a spectacular fireworks display lit up the sky. The fireworks, were immediately followed by the largest Mariachi band I had ever seen, and unfortunately by a very drunk Tomas and his very young and scantily clad rent-a-date. Ana suggested we just avoid Tomas.
In the wee hours of the reception, I struck up a chat with the singer in the wedding band, I have to admit I had very few conversations at the wedding, as I felt really out of place. He and I were doing tequila shots, the old fashioned American way. I was getting pretty hammered; I looked across the Hacienda courtyard and noticed Tomas approach Ana by himself. He got on one knee and started to propose to her. As I started walking towards them to break up this madness, a large group of Mariachis waded into the moment and blocked me from seeing what was happening. By the time I shoved my way past the Mariachis, Ana and Tomas were both gone. I was drunk and angry. I walked out of the wedding and into a taxi.
I booked a flight out the next night but had an entire day to kill. I went back to the top of Teotihuacan to try and clear my head. As I lay at the top of the pyramid, I heard a voice yell my name. It was Ana. I asked how she knew I would be there. She told me because she “knew me” and besides I was really predictable. I went through a rant of how she was still in love with Tomas and all the other insecure nonsense that I was feeling. She climbed up the pyramid and patiently explained to me what really happened. She said she told Tomas no to his proposal and asked him to leave us alone forever. She said she looked everywhere for me and then left when she couldn’t find me. Needless to say, we made up, then we laid head to head at the top of Teotihuacan and basked in the sun together.
A few weeks after we had returned from the wedding, Ana came to visit me in LA. We went for a walk along the beach in Santa Monica and I decided to propose to her. In keeping with my “smitten” comment when I first met her, I decided to pop the question on the beach at sunset. She was so shocked when I asked her to marry me, she accidentally dropped the engagement ring in the sand. We frantically dug with no luck. Thank God there was an old guy on the beach with a metal detector, who took financial advantage of the situation and asked me to pay him fifty bucks to find the ring. I was upset, but had no leverage and paid him. He quickly located the ring, saw the diamond and groused that he should have asked for more. Ana joyfully put the ring on her finger. I reminded her she hadn’t said, “yes.”
She smiled and cooed, “Claro que si.” I spoke enough Spanish to know what that meant. We looked out across the water and felt like it was the first time we had both watched the sunset over the ocean.