Ricky Martin
La Bomba

THE BOMB AT FIUMICINO.

Ugh... I'm at Fiumicino airport and my flight is in half an hour.
Damn... I always end up at the last minute and with carry-on luggage, suitcase, trolley, and backpack, I'm always loaded like a mule and sweating like a camel, rushing here and there for gates, exits, boards, and damn check-ins... pant pant!
Here's the last one: I put my wallet, cell phone, iPod, watch, belt, chain, piercing, chargers, poultry shears, revolver... everything in the tray to pass under the metal detector.
If God wills, it's the last hurdle, thanks to this damn 9/11!!
I just hope not to lose too much time because boarding has already started...
I pass under the thing and... nothing... all smooth.
The problem is this damn trolley. Damn it!!
The cop asks me to open it, and I show off my collection of intimates: double-support underwear, reinforced socks, aloe perfume, lawnmower for chest hair removal, nettle shampoo, and fire-fighting foam (that doesn’t irritate the beard). Then I pull out the pirated copy of Ricky Martin's album and... I shouldn't have done that!!

EVERYONE HIT THE FLOOR!!

General panic... I'm standing like an idiot while 400 bayonets are pointed at my throat, and two cops invite me to raise my hands "slo-o-owly..."
Damn it, I knew it.
Ding Dong... BOARDING FOR FLIGHT AZ4181 TO MILAN HAS STARTED...

While they're announcing the boarding, I'm here with my hands up and pants down getting frisked like a queer at the entrance of the "Mucca Assassina"... damn!
"Excuse me, General... but... what did I do?!"
"Nothing young man... just a routine check... is this red Ricky Martin disc yours?"
"If it's about the fine, I'll pay it... I actually got it from a Moroccan... you see, I write reviews of crappy albums on a website, and to avoid spending too much, I sometimes get these burned CDs..."
"That's enough... did you know you have THE BOMB with you?!"
"Let me explain... the Bomb is the title, but inside, I assure you there's nothing that would make anyone explode... I mean with joy! It's just a lousy wordplay..."
"Sergeant: take that CD player and insert "this" bomb... NO SUDDEN MOVEMENTS... let's see what it's all about..."
Ding Dong... BOARDING FOR FLIGHT AZ4181 TO MILAN HAS STARTED...

PLAY.
"Do you hear it, General?! Do you hear "el ritmo latino"... what does this mean?... it can't really be a bomb, huh?! The usual commercial album of pure entertainment that will be forgotten after just one season and, in fact, no one cares about it anymore, not even a bit..."
"Mmm... mind your language, sir, and let me continue listening..."
I look at the clock above the column and sweat cold.

"Listen to this track... you hear it?! All very predictable and danceable, tailor-made for the character to wiggle so that the chicks get excited and buy it... do you agree or not?! A bit like Shakira or that other one... Christina Aguilera (with whom he also collaborated), in a "masculine" version that appeals to both the idiots and the queers, the usual invasion of Latin dances for people who need their brain in neutral to have time to learn the moves to perform together at Club Med this summer..."

"General... if I may, musically speaking, it's pretty crappy... if I may say so..."
"SERGEANT!! No one asked for your opinion... zip up, cut those dreadlocks, and follow orders!"
"Yessir, General... Cool dude!"
"Young man, I'm talking to you... is all this stuff like this?!"
"It doesn't mean much, does it?! Two chords, I mean TWO (not even the minor variant, the bare minimum... come on!!), do you realize?! The usual para-Latin crap that's only done damage since the "Lambada"..."
"Quite boring, I'd say..."
"... but can you imagine the hordes of chicks in front of the mirror dreaming of being in the arms of this hunk, shaking their hips back and forth! Huh?! Because it’s clear that this album ONLY MAKES SENSE for that stuff!"
Ding Dong... BOARDING FOR FLIGHT AZ4181 TO MILAN IS ABOUT TO END...

"Listen young man... mmm... you've convinced me... take back this crappy disc and leave... for this time it's okay but... let it be the last time, huh?!"
"Excuse me, General... the last time in what sense?! YOU'RE TELLING ME THIS?! TO ME?!?!?! But IF ONLY it were the last time, but you know we'll be stuck with this toreador for another 20 years, at least? Look what happened with George Michael and that slew of insignificant pretty boys!! Can you believe it?!"
"Oh God... twenty years, really!?! But... are you sure?"
"OHYESSSS... twenty years... on our backs!...twenty years of Latin dances hip-wiggling back and forth to the rhythm of salsa y merengue... marooooon"
" Excuse me... but... couldn't we... I mean... don't you understand..."
"Look... now I'll run, or I'll miss my flight, but if you go on http://www.thepunishersblog.splinder.com/ and leave me your number, I'll call you... I'll talk to the Committee, and you'll see we'll be available for a proper punitive mission... we're specialists in this... ha ha ha"
"Good, I'll write it down... have a good trip, sir... sir?!"
"The Punisher... with "The" in front..."
"Good... I'll think about it, have a good trip and... see you soon!!!"

Just imagine, sometimes... things start with bad luck and end with a new assignment: could this be a strange world!?

Ding Dong... FINAL CALL FOR FLIGHT AZ4181 TO MILAN...