because i bemoan the endless new york winter and feel the need to distance myself from a reality of exhaustive relaxation, i decided (with whimsy) to travel to puerto rico, which turns out to be a tropical archipelago and unincorporated territory of the u.s as well as one of the top ranked games on boardgamegeek.com.
my traveling partners were dada and fallon. our lodging hookup came from dada and fallon’s new york friend and aquadilla native francheska, who, looooong stories short, introduced them to waco, (current resident of aguadilla and in-house dj at coco loco) who served as our tour guide and chauffeur with his handle-less, rum strewn mini van.
we rented a room in a building that housed an extended family on the top floor and a pizza place in its repurposed garage. in the five days that we stayed in aguadilla we witnessed the creation and purchase of only a single pizza, served to us on our first night. the pizza place was closed on each remaining day and night, leading me to believe that the pizza we shared was a theatre piece.
when we reached the beach dada and fallon bought weed from a taciturn, tan hunk with a man bun named memo.
we became beach drunk on glassy puerto rican rum mixed with artificially sweetened passion fruit juice as well as the national beer (and much too light) Medalla.
waco drove us to another beach with a fresh water swell. fallon and i allowed ourselves to be pulled into the ocean as dada collected seashells and started a pickup volley with some beach volleyball kids. a big boobed american woman offered me her snorkel so i could see all of the wildlife and coral beneath the water. fallon scratched her back on some coral as she was swept up by the swell. dada’s forearms became bruised by the volleyball.
the yoked horse living in the school bus strewn field behind the pizza place grew tumescent as dada approached him, his pink and brown cock hornily slapping against his belly.
my new zoom lens provided me with a safe distance for ass shots of the beach’s claimed women.
dada received a triangular gash on her thigh as we drunkenly traversed the brittle moon rocks. it eventually turned white.
i saw an iguana’s face splattered across the pavement.
we took underwater photos with fallon’s GoPro. Dada began conversation with the fat man from the beach when we resurfaced from the underwater photo shoot. his voice came from a collar wrapped around his throat.
i packed lube instead of contact lens solution and requested a ride to the grocery store from a drunken medical student named eddie who smartly rebut requested beers for his valiant service. after he finished his rum and coke and ordered another for the road he became lost looking for his car, then required me to be his “co-pilot” and keep my eyes out for the police as we drove down the curvy rural roads. when we returned to the beach eddie blamed me for abandoning his drunken friend on the beach and expressed misguided enmity at my additional purchase of crackers while at the grocery store, calling them “bullshit corn flakes.”
fallon ate a wave and lost her GoPro; it was the most devastating loss of the entire trip.
waco sparked a bonfire of dry palm leaves. dada, fallon and i drooled over the sexiness of the flames and posed for an impromptu photo shoot on a drunken man’s abandoned hog while the fire soared behind us. naturally our voracious, goofy behavior drew a crowd. we befriended off-duty cop harry and ex-shrink kathy, who drove us to an outdoor patio for salsa, meringue, and tango i think. we drank and danced until the music ended, bumming countless cigarettes from kathy. eventually we landed at a spanish language karaoke bar, where dada performed lady gaga’s bad romance to a speechless crowd.
on her morning run dada discovered a litter of beach puppies beneath the deck of memo’s defunct night club. we named the one that looked like a little bear little bear. we thought about them constantly.
waco drove us to a waterfall as we drank rum in his van. we met memo, charlie, and a tall, gaunt, professional surfer with gray skin, black eyes and waist length hair, who’s wacky and loquacious body language reminded me of seinfeld’s kramer. charlie leaped from the top of the falls and tore his nipple ring on impact with the water. memo also jumped from the falls. everyone clapped. i wanted to jump too. dada chided me and fallon goaded me. memo gave me advice on how best to leap forward. the rock was smooth and slippery, and i was sloppy and drunk, but i summoned the courage despite my petrified demeanor and jumped.
the bearded man in the waterfall parking lot took an immediate liking to dada. he jumped in the water with his clothes on to prove his spontaneity and declare his love for her. he took fallon, dada and i into a secret cave beneath the water fall. he then he made a hat for dada from palm leaves. as the sun began to set he began sparking a bonfire to keep us warm, but we told him we wanted to leave so he threw his log into the woods.
memo took us on a hike through a secluded surf trail where i saw a rock that looked like a nose.
we stayed up all night awaiting our flight, drinking in the shop express parking lot with waco, memo, charlie, charlie’s girl, alvin’s brother, and sober eddie, who was much more to my liking. dada listened to memo’s mixtape with him alone in his car. fallon had an extensive conversation with charlie’s girlfriend about teaching english and environmental issues. charlie told me about his friend, a “fisherman” named scott with a giant gold chain who went to cuba to pick up some “fish” and became lost at sea.
eddie could have scored me some puerto rican cocaine at 2am, promising its arrival within fifteen minutes. i was very tempted, but concluded that snorting a gram of cocaine within an hour of my flight wasn’t responsible; neither was attempting to board with any leftovers. i promised my new friend eddie that we would do many drugs together “next time.”after waco dropped us at the airport he suggested we continue drinking in the parking lot. but instead we thanked him for a wonderful time and moped at the gate about our return to icy, gray new york.
-$3.50 in change buried in the sand,
-a cute floral print miniskirt that belonged to a sunbathing woman who politely sought its return after realizing her mistake of leaving it on a pile of dry palm leaves after i already laid claim and given it to dada as a gift
-a shirt and towel on the airport dumpster during my first moments on puerto rican soil
i managed pretty well considering aguadilla’s unremarkable garbage scene.
returning with scaly shoulders, the cobalt venom of sea urchin punctures in my palms, and a scabby patch of lower back that continues to eat through my healthy flesh, im finna take a day trip to pyongyang in the emotional dead of their hell winter for my next itinerary to offer my readership an effortless contrast. imprisonment is only a state of mind.