By Jennifer Carrasco

My Dad told me, "Jennifer, if you are ever involved in a bar fight, get the hell out of there." 

Dan and Joe, our Peace Corps friends from the neighboring barrio of GoaGoa, were visiting our town of Sorsogon, so our buddy Pabling volunteered to show us around the night before Norma and I left for vacation.

As young Peace Corp American women, we had big adjustments to make in a barrio culture. Unmarried Filipinas were strictly supervised, and any free association with men outside the family, married or single, was condemned. Gossip was swift and vicious. The woman was branded immoral and a shame for the family. 

Courtship was under the watchful eye of Papa in a brightly lit living room. The boy and girl sat across from each other under fluorescent lights on uncomfortable chairs covered in clear plastic. The boy would make halting conversation. In our case, It was always " Do you eat rice" and "How do you find the Philippines?" The girl was supposed to act coy and giggle behind her hand. You get the picture.

Shocking that we would go to a bar with guys, but we hoped we'd be under the radar on a sleepy weekend night.  We  were twenty three year old American women who were fed up with being cooped up.

First we went to the Squeeze Inn, a tiny bar serving San Miguel beer and Spanish peanuts. Then Pabling persuaded us to go to Mary Lou's Family Night Club, where guys congregated late and drank beer. Barrio young women were not supposed to drink anything stronger than a Pepsi. Oops. Another rule broken.

We sat at a table, and a drunk man asked me to dance. I shook my head "No", so naturally he slugged the guy next to me. The table tipped and glasses went flying. What did you say, Dad?  Right. Get the hell out of there.

Norma and I dashed out the door. I ran like a deer up the street with a short chubby man behind me yelling, "I'll save you, I'll save you!" I left him in the dust, rounded a corner, and leaped into the open cab of a flat bed truck. I could hear Norma laughing her raucous bordello laugh from blocks away. The little man jogged past by the truck, puffing and yelling "I'll save you." I heard gun shots but Norma was still cackling, so I figured she was OK.

After 15 minutes,  I cautiously dropped down from the truck and made my way back to Mary Lou's. Norma and Pabling stood out in the street, still laughing, Don and Joe were shaking their heads in wonderment and saying, "Stuff like this never happens in GoaGoa" and some idiot was shooting at the midnight sky with his 45.

!t was high time we girls scuttled home. We snuck in the door and tiptoed up the stairs. The next morning, all packed and ready to go, we sat at the breakfast table with our landlady.. She narrowed her eyes at us. "I heard there was a disturbance in town last night. Did you two know anything about it?" 

"Not a thing," We vowed." Slept right through it." Then we left with our ruined reputations for Christmas vacation.

Jennifer Carrasco is a longtime West Seattle resident and internationally recognized muralist whose work combines historical depth, mythic storytelling, and botanical elegance. With decades of experience painting large-scale trompe l’oeil and chinoiserie murals for clients ranging from Tommy Bahama to private collectors, she brings a distinctive Northwest voice to decorative arts. Her artistic journey has taken her from Peace Corps service and teaching in the Philippines to NEA residencies across the globe, and long ago she chose to make West Seattle her home.