| 3.10-5 The Far Beach (La Punta Roca) Wednesday Morning to Thursday Morning March 27th - 28th, 1991 |
Beach
stands just
past Roca
del Mar de
Jorge
stands just
past Roca
del Mar de
Jorge
After the rough day yesterday I awakened to the promise of a nice relaxing day at
the beach. The rain had stopped and my bed partners were chasing down each
others tail doing circles in the beach sand. Down the way I see actual people and a
women opening a beach stand.
As I approach the stand the smell of food on the grill filled my nostrils with delight. I
ask the women for some water. She welcomely hands me a plastic cup which I
instantly refuse for its unnaturalness and instead I find a used aluminum can which I
tear in half and use as a water cup. The women and her daughter both laugh at my
oddness. I tell them both that a large group of people will be here tomorrow from
Miami and that she had better prepare for their arrival. Again they laugh at this odd
statement. They offer me some roasted banana fritter which I eat with a passion. I
refill my aluminum cup with water, thank them and then return to the hut of the Roca
del Mar.
Back at the Roca del Mar I phone my parents in Seattle to find out what’s new. They
tell me my friend Manny is on his way to help me out and that I was not to leave the
Roca del Mar. They also inform me that my sister Keeanne is on her way to Vashon
and that she has someone in Puerto Rico at the airport who can help me out. I tell
them I’m O.K and that I will definitely await Manny’s arrival.
In order for Manny to find me I had to explain to my dad where the hell I was located.
So I explained as follows: “I’m at the beach at the Roca del Mar de Jorje directly
under the flight path of the San Juan International Airport, at the end of the runway
where they take off over the ocean.” Just then three fighter jet scream immediately
over head as they head out to sea. I say to my dad, “See, can you hear the
planes? I’m right at the end of the runway.”
I continue to describe to my dad where I am. I tell him, “The airport is shaped like a
big H. Draw an H. I’m at the bottom of the H. The airport terminal is in the center
of the H.. From the terminal you head straight out, turn right at the exit of the airport
which is at the end of the runways. Just past the end of the runway you turn right
again. I’m at the bottom of the H where the ocean is.” I ask him when Manfred will
be here and he tells me he should be in Puerto Rico soon. I say goodbye and
continue on with my relaxing day at the beach.
Again I get thirsty sitting at the front of the Roca del Mar waiting for Manny to arrive.
So I return to the shack of the women down the beach. On my way I find the
noontime sand is now way too hot for my bare feet so to fix this I rip off pieces of my
long silk pants instantly making them into shorts. I take the strips of cloth and wrap
them around my feet and tie them up. I continue my walk down the beach to the
shack now without pain.
I arrive at the hut and again I am welcomed and offered water and a soda. I return
with the soda to the Roca del Mar and continue to wait for Manfred. Getting tired of
waiting I decide to go for a swim. Not wanting Manny to miss me while I am down in
the water I find a 6 foot piece of plywood and with charcoal from the fire I wrote in
large letters on it “Manuel’s Place”. I place the sign at the front to the Roca del Mar
where Manfred surely could see it.
Satisfied with my effort I rush off down to the beach where I shed my only remaining
clothes, my silk pants, and bathe myself in the warm waters of the Atlantic Ocean.
Still very thirsty I drink handfuls of the warm waters to quench my thirst knowing full
well that salt water is not drinkable. I knew better however. I knew that it was to have
been suitable, only the fact that it was suitable was hidden from us by the great
deceiver, the other entity. So I drank until my thirst was quenched.
Even with the nearest bathers more than a half mile down the beach they must have
had good eyes, for within a half an hour a couple of officers arrived at the beach and
came down to where I was swimming. They only smiled and asked that I move down
the beach a little bit more where the other bathers won’t even notice me. So I move
and they depart.
After bathing I return to the Roca del Mar and phone my parents. I tell my dad
Manfred still hasn’t arrived. I state emphatically “He must have come and gone for I
saw a limousine pass which he surely must have been in. He came only for fun and
has now left.” Just then a Lear jet thunders off over head and I say to my dad, “See,
he’s on that Lear jet heading back home. I saw him.”
By now my sister Keeanne had arrived at my parents and gets on the phone with
me. She tells me there are two ladies at the airport who want to helm me. Their
names are Lilly and Wanda. They are with Traveller’s Aid. She gives me their
phone number and tells me to call them so I can tell them where I am. That way they
can tell Manfred where to go to pick me up so he can return me to Seattle. She also
tells me Derik, her husband, is on his way to help Manfred in the search.
Upon calling Lilly and Wanda I explain to them where I am. They inform me that
Manfred has arrived and checked in at the hotel but never called them to let them
know. They guess that he is out looking for me already. They instruct me to call
them back in a couple of hours.
By now the sun is high overhead and shining on my bare back as I routinely gab on
the phone. So I hunted down some protection. Protection today consists of
wrapping in plastic (was this explained earlier - airport required everything be
wrapped in clear plastic?). Thus, associating plastic with protection I find a yellow
plastic bag to place over my head to help protect me from the sun. The association
of protection with plastic grew even stronger. I came to the belief that wrapping
anything in plastic would give it protection. If I could I would have wrapped myself
completely in plastic for protection from those on the island (everybody) who wanted
to harm me. Still thirsty I also search for water. Not wanting to burn my feet on the
even still hotter sand and since I had long lost my cloth wraps for my feet I go to the
back of the Roca del Mar and find a water spout. One major problem was that it did
not have a spigot. Not a problem that wasn’t easily solved, however. The water pipe
was made of P.V.C. So I grabbed a large sharp rock and hammered it into the pipe.
Suddenly a gush of water comes streaming out 5 feet long away from the shack. I
drench my thirst in the strong stream of water and then return to the phone.
With my protection I returned to the phone and called my friend Jess at my old work,
Dynagen in San Diego. Jess didn’t answer her phone so I phoned Kirk. Kirk didn’t
answer his phone so I phoned the lab to see if he was there. When a voice
answered at the other end I asked for Kirk. The voice answered back, “No, this isn’t
Kirk’s phone.” So I said, “Yes, I know that. This is the lab phone, right?” “No,” say’s
the voice, “this is my phone. Is this Kory?” Surprised by that question I say, “Yes,
and who is this.” He answers back, “Kory, this is Tim, Tim Ross. How have you
been? Kirk’s been telling me about your trip. Where are you now?” Still pondering
how I got connected with Tim, one of the few friends I had from work, I inform him I’m
in Puerto Rico and begin to tell him all of the things that have been happening to me
over the course of the past week. I ask him if he’s seen Jess. He informs me that
she’s probably int he lab, so he hands the phone to his cube mate Jules who also
knows me fairly well and I begin to answer his questions and tell him about Puerto
Rico.
As I’m standing there at the phone a couple of cars pull up behind me. I hear
several men get out of the cars and I hear talking on radios in the background.
Without ever looking I knew exactly who they were and what they wanted. I also
knew that as long as I stood there with the bag over my head I would be safe,
protected by the safety of the plastic. Just to be safe I began to dial numbers which
spelled out names on the phone all the while still taking to Jules from work. The
names I was dialing were meant to send the police away as follows:
1-800-fuck-off
1-800-fuck-you
1-877-gotohell
A few minutes later the cars left and I truly was safe again. I then realized that no
matter what I was safe right here because I was exactly in the spot on the island that
the police wanted me anyway. Why would they want to move me to any place else?
As soon as they leave I remove the plastic bag.
Jess never did make it to the phone. I ended my conversation with Jules and called
home again. I blamed the latest police scene on my sister Keeanne. I had told my
family not to call the police. I had made it clear that the police were the ones who
had put me where I was and that they would never be of any help to me now. My
sister tells me to call my best friend from childhood, Kelin.
By now the sun is heading down again and Manfred still has not arrived. I knew he
wouldn’t find me. I call Kelin and go over from start to finish everything that has
happened to me since coming to Puerto Rico: from the revelation in Buena Vista to
the beach here on Isla Verda. She asks me the pointed question, “And do you think
you are Jesus.” I roll my eyes and say to her sarcastically, “Yes,” knowing full well
after last night that I was not Jesus Christ.” Several times during our conversation I
had the strong urge for water, so I would run around the back of the building and
quench my thirst on the strong stream of water spray that the dogs were now playing
in.
While talking with Kelin a man came to the Roca and turned off the water putting an
end to my magical stream. I ended my conversation with Kelin and returned to the
bench of the Roca to wait for Manfred.
Night came and I began to rest with my friends, once again laying in the ashes of the
cooking fire.
I awaken in the middle of the night, actually early morning and a new plan to reach
the airport came to me. I realized I had been trying to reach the airport by going in
the wrong direction - as we have seen, everything is turned around so this must be
too. I bid farewell to my sleeping canine friends and headed on down the beach in
the darkness away from the airport, sounds of waves crashing on the cooling sands.
World Turned Upside Down
My Days in San Juan de Puerto Rico (or is that Puerto Rico de San Juan?)