Escape To Isla Mujeres
Felt a little better today. Drink a lot of soda I hear and stay away from alcohol. Great. No weed or alcohol! Took a walk along the shore- not too far as I had to be near a toilet. "Donde esta el bano de cabalerros?" I knew this one well. TIF,I in Zocada, the plaza. Called home again, still no answer. Called my next door neighbor. No answer there either and she has a phone machine too. Has Woodstock been bombed while I've been away?
Passed by one of the hotels on the beach - GOMAR - They were serving lunch: smorgasboard - ribs, chicken, salad, everything I've dreamed about. How come these people aren't getting sick, huh? Howcome I have to drink soda and pick out of a Del Monte fruit cocktail can & nibble on these chocolate wafers & cheese twists and they're gourmeting it on pasta & ribs, huh? Got to sleep at nine tonight with my amigos Stephen King and my flyswatter. P.S. Didn't have the energy to place another call.
Clouds still hovering inthe sky and in my stomach. I'm remembering great meals of the past: Filet mignon. with warm potato chips & onion rings at the Palm; Sea Bass at the Little Bear; Brisket & latkas at the Carnegie Deli; Veal Rollentine with Linguini with white clam sauce at Rays; Hot dogs & fries at Nathans; The endless smorgasboards at the Club Meds; Any kind of duck at Yvonnes, Hell, a McDLT would do now. Worked up enough strength to call home again. This time I'm told a recording came on saying the number is out of service. I assume mv house has either been burned down or robbed.
I figure there's no reason to return home. I faintly remember the sun's strong warmth. Like a blanket, an electric blanket hugging me, smiling at me, assuring me that all is well. Waiting for it to say with a smile, "I'm back. Did you miss me much?"
I wanted to escape the world I kept reassuring myself. I wanted to escape. Surely the sun must be shining somewhere on this planet. But where? And surely people must be eating and drinking somewhere without getting sick - and somewhere people are enjoying a good joint and possibly all of this is happening in one place at one time and where, oh, where is this wonderful place? And for that matter, WHERE THE liELL IS ERNIE?
THE 12TH DAY
I feel like I'm living in a Stephen King novel. I'm the main character who needed to escape - who wanted only good things to happen. I feel the island closing in on me. Last night I had a dream: I was on the beach. Clouds covering anything that might be up there.
All of a sudden, patches of clouds started to slowly break apart exposing the sun. But on the sun, I see Mllions of roaches crawling in all sizes, taking over what used to be the sun. I don't have dreams like this in Woodstock. I pack my bags and wait 'till dawn. I spend my final night killing every livinginsect in my room. With the power gone off, this isn't easy.
1 call Acro Mexico and change my flight from the 29th to today. Oh Boy, I'm actually looking forward to the meai on the plane. At the ticket counter I'm asked for my tourist card. I don't have it. (Didn't they take it when I came into Cancun?)
I'm told I have to go to immigration. I leave my bags at the ticket counter and with my SONY BOX take a dreadful walk to immigration realizing I'm probablygoing to be here for another week. At immigration, the officer asks about my SONY - what I paid for it. He then tells me if I give it to him, he'll "take care of" whatever problem I have. I'm issued a new tourist card and with one less thing to carry, I board the plane. And sure enough, as my plane was taking off and I was saying adios and good riddance to Mexico and realizing that I'm returning not only to my divorce and the women I've been trying to avoid, but also to Filet Mignon at the Palm, Showtime, HBO, ice, the sunday Times and bagels & lox and hey,what's that bright thing I see emerging through the clouds?
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Escape To Isla Mujeres copyright 1989 by Michael Bitterman