Cat-calls From Old Men

Walking past two old men in Granada, Nicaragua, I politely tell them ‘excuse me,’ in Spanish. They’ve occupied the whole sidewalk, and they’re both drunk; you can tell by the way that they’re swaying and clinging to each other. They eye me as I pass. They say not a word. Will I make it past them without a cat-call, I wonder? I pray I will. My prayers aren’t answered. “Ayyyy, que bonita,” the one guy hisses. I quicken my step. “Let’s have sex,” the other says, in clear and practiced English. Each man must be at least seventy years old, and they wear suits and ties and gel in their hair. Where do these old men learn their pickup lines? Que horrible.

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