It was pretty neat, but the sun kept beating down on us, and there's only so much human flesh we can endure, so we left a bit early.

A quick aside...

Me: oh man, my dad just gave me his ID card from his first job in Chicago

Deana: why?

Me: they're cleaning their closet, he thought I might want it. Back then, he was known as "Daniel Treviņo."

D: daniel trevino? wha?

Me: He was illegal for a long time, and he could only find work with that name for some reason

D: huh. your dad's first name is something poetic, isn't it? what was it again?

Me: Urbano. spanish for urbane, which means polite.

D: right. cool.

Me: I remember he made a comment about possibly writing a book one day

D: ooh. on what?

Me: about his life and how he got here. he said it'd put most movies to shame

D: that's not a bad idea.

Me: I don't know if he'll do it though, from what I can piece together, he's done some really shady things

D: dads are like that, : )

Me: my uncle started telling us something one thanksgiving, then my dad looked at him and he just got quiet

D: lol, gotta love those moments.

Me: what he told us was like "Your dad was a coyote when he was younger." then he laughed, then my dad looked at him

D: coyote. neat. my dad was just a greaser.

Me: coyotes are people who smuggle people over the border at Mexico, they know the land and how to get around

D: oh cool! like harriet tubman. kinda.

Me: I know, what happened to him?

D: he aged.

I'll finish writing about flugtag another day, I guess.

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