American Airlines Gate B37 Dallas/Ft Worth Airport. Destination: Midland/Odessa Airport. Initial Point of Start of Journey: Rincon, Puerto Rico to San Juan Puerto Rico.
I woke up at 5:15 am next to a sleeping Johnny, who was comfortably sprawled out and breathing rhythmically. I occurred to me that I wouldn’t see him again for quite some time and I had realized that I somehow did not spend a proper time with him. I utilized most of my vacation to relax and over think things. The drive from Rincon to San Juan was nothing short of gorgeous. Puerto Rico really is quite a beautiful island. Covered in lush greenery and rising and falling brush covered hills all about. White beaches surround the bright green pupil of the island and the endless blue ocean spans out toward the horizon. Colored houses and dwellings speckle the landscape, and in the towns and cities, they are close cropped, all in together, like Easter eggs in a basket. I watched the landscape slip by as the sun came up and I laughed easily with my sister and her gracious and goofy boyfriend. I felt a slight tug of sadness; I would miss this place…and certainly, miss my family and my best buddy. The week really did move by quickly. I arrived early on Saturday morning, I saw Bjork wandering around at a festival by El Faro on Monday, On Tuesday I wandered around the town (overrun with many rugged, scraggly and homeless cats and dogs and some well kept horses, I sat in a catholic church, the shadiest place in the hot hot day, to perhaps make some words with God, and wandered into a Dive bar (like divers, Scuba) where I drank some Coronas with my buddy and watched a very old Puerto Rican man with gin blossoms dancing merrily to mash-ups of music from the 40’s and 50’s. My sister was married on the beach at sunset on Wednesday. On Thursday I slept in the sun, read most of a novel, swam in the ocean for many hours and wrote as much as I could. Friday I went “snorkeling” for the first time while my sister and stepfather threw up off of the side of the boat and Johnny turned as green as I’ve ever seen anyone. Saturday, that’s now. I left. And after a really shitty time in the San Juan airport (yet again) I climbed aboard the big airplane and took off into the morning sun, saying goodbye to Puerto Rico and to my family. The week contained so many details, and so much more that I just can’t write at this particular moment. It was jam-packed and relaxing at the same time. I thought about it all as I fell into sleep next to an extremely attractive boy who also fell asleep and snuggled with me (maybe by accident). When I awoke, his hand was on my knee…and he was still sleeping. I fell asleep and let my head fall to his shoulder. We both woke up and began talking to each other. He was leaving St. Thomas (where his family resides) to go to Wichita Falls, where he will be living until he’s shipped off to Afghanistan in a few weeks. He’s only 25 and looks perhaps a bit younger, A pretty face, smooth ebony skin and bright dancing brown eyes, he told me of his tour in Iraq and of the places he’s been stationed. He made the 5-hour flight more than tolerable, and we both fell in and out of sleep and conversation. He was polite and slightly adorable, offering me his snacks, offering to share headphones to watch the movie and offering his shoulder for sleep. I almost didn’t want to see him go, but I genuinely enjoyed our brief time and swapping of stories.
When I got to the Dallas/Ft. Worth Airport, I was immediately annoyed. I just don’t like that place. They seem to always have a goddamn gate change, and well this time, as I started to write this, the console at the gate that my flight was changed to (B37) randomly started smoking and caught on fire. At first I couldn’t help but laugh, but as the smoke really started pouring out and the firemen and police came, well, I know our flight would be delayed. Of course, they had to make sure this was no terrorist attack, and of course everything became quite a big deal, and of course, I was filled with ultimate rage. I am the master of the worst luck when it comes to flying, see the entry from my first day in Puerto Rico. I could spew them out. I’ve had some ridiculous traveling mishaps, but really? Fire? The console randomly blowing up? Seriously? Goodness. I befriended a man and a woman going to Killeen Texas and we made jokes and passed the time. I really loved those guys. They left me and I befriended a woman on my flight that is heading to Alpine after Midland, a tough cookie with a good sense of humor and a very wonderful West Texas way about her. Finally, after maybe 4 fireman, 3 Police Officers and 6 Airport Maintence folk determined that we were not under siege, we were allowed to board our tiny tiny airplane. I am sitting now, watching the propellers and enjoying the sickening turbulence and hoping that my dear, dear friend will notice that my flight is slightly delayed and be patient and not leave me in Midland. I’ve come to realize that I hate flying, and that really, if I did not love the story swapping of strangers so much, I most likely would not be able to even tolerate it. I’ve flown so much over the years, at times flying eight or nine times a year, and I have flown alone almost all of my time flying. It gives you to much time to think , and of course to contemplate the small (ness) of man, the huge (ness) of the Earth, the vast (ness) of space, the silliness of society, the patterns of nature and of man and so on and so fourth. Currently I’m freezing my ass off and wishing I would have pissed at the airport and I’m ready to just not be in fucking transit for a minute when I get on the ground…and I’m thinking and thinking and wishing I didn’t drink that fake ass McDonald’s Iced Mocha (which is churning in my belly and creating some probable damage in the form of gases and other awfuls).
I’ll think instead of how nice that place was that I was just in. It seems like a dream that I was there. When I first arrived I couldn’t believe that I was lucky enough to be staying there. The Villa looked like something out of a hip hop video, fancy. Marble countertops, plush leather couches, giant flat screen TV, exquisite cook ware (very nice sauté pans and knives I considered stealing), memory foam beds, a balcony in each room, each room with it’s own giant bathroom, open tile work showers. Each Villa had its only balcony overlooking the beach complete with hammock, a dining room table and a grill. Our families took up 4 villas total and so we all moved from Villa to Villa throughout our stay, and this was fun and exciting to see what everyone was up to and what the happenings were. The roof had a pool that changed colors at night, had jets for massaging and gave the illusion that the water was dripping from the pool into the ocean down below. There were hammocks and chairs and this was a nice place to lie in the sun and read until you were hot enough to sit in the pool and be massaged. The ocean, the beach, the swaying palms were all at our disposal, and we swam in the morning, the noon and at night. I floated with Jerry’s father in the ocean at nearly four o-clock in the morning looking at the stars and watching the morning trying to come. I swam with my family throughout the day, and I snorkeled with my brother, diving down into a reef, to look at funny fish and plants I’ve never seen. The ocean was the roughest I have ever been in, and I sincerely at one point thought I’d drown and the fear felt good to fight as I swam hard and let the violent waves plunder me. I love the ocean, always have. I stayed in as much as I could. And I was really, really sad to leave it, it physically pained me to leave that ocean. I was in the most luxurious place I have ever been. I was grateful for it every second I was there. My skin is tanned, my clothes still smell of sun block and beach, and my hair is a shade lighter from the ruthless sun. I’m wearing flip-flops, and this might be the first day I haven’t worn a swimsuit in a week. Goodbye beach, hello desert. Back to the mysterious mountains, the ghostly hot springs, my dear good friends who I missed so much, my chef jacket, my knives and my thermometer, and that goddamn line, my new roommate and my new home, my last month with Mark (which I’m not even ready to think about…it’s hard to love someone too much sometimes), the blooming cacti and plant life in the park and new adventures. The park is ours again, Spring Break is over, and I’ll start to say goodbye to Texas...and honestly, I don’t know if I can really let it go as easily as I think I can. This is my home right now…and for the first time in a very long time, I am excited to go back “home” after being away. And this is my home. The Chisos Basin, the Chihuahua Desert, the nicest border between Texas and Mexico….under the visible Milky way halfway between there and here and the middle of nowhere. And goddamn if I can’t wait to get back there via back roads and un-ending roads and whatever Texas and Mark have to offer me when I touch down. Well…I guess I can’t hardly wait. Until then…-KG
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