Can you imagine Norman Mailer's metaphor, NASA Rockets and satellites blowing spent jet fuel, floating in space, disturbing angels highly tuned sensitivities?
Sometimes the best Christmas memories are unconventional and have less to do with garlands, cozy fire places, christmas cookies, eggnog, the giving of stuff, having more to do with love and magic, seeking out first-time adventure.
Henry went to Acapulco, with his parents on Christmas, 1966, The Las Hamacas Hotel, on the street… near the bay. The Las Hamacas, best breakfast ever, freshed baked french roles, avocados, great mexican coffee, enjoying the feeling near the pool, fresh bright white linens on the tables, surrounded by large coconut and banana trees.
Christmas Eve day,a nice day, after breakfast Henry walked to a taco bar across from his hotel and ordered a pineapple margarita, he sat at table on the beach, a great juke-box,45 RPM disc, Sopwith Camel, The Strawberry Alarm Clock, some Jefferson Airplane.
Henry, 15 years old, easily tempted, astute lover of everything sensual, fresh fruit and flowers, psychedelic music, incense, exotic and erotic literature, always reading: Hemingway, Henry Miller, Anis Nin, William Faulkner, William Butler Yeats, Langston Hughes, John Cheever, Kerouac, the Kama Sutra his favorite and Gabriel Garcia Marquez, who spun magic, better than Hemingway.
He could see a couple, a young guy and a girl approaching, crossing the street, coming from the hotel, walking arm in arm. Henry leaning in their direction, all three teenagers, asking them to sit down with him. They were from Pasadena, California, brother and sister, 15 and 16 years old, Stanley and Mona, Mona fetching, willowy, wearing glasses, long hair, new breast, nymph-like, a child who had recently become a women, Stanley very hip, lean, tanned, with long side-burns, a surfer.
After a few drinks, Stanley sensed there was someone near by, who the locals called the magician. Stanley went to the back of the cafe, on the beach, when he came back he had a bag of thumbed size, golden buds, Acapulco Gold.
We Three Kings went back to the Las Hamacas, hid away in hotel room toilet, filling the door edge with a towel to keep the pot fumes in. It was Henry's first time. By dusk we went outside sitting on the edge of the pool with our legs in the water.
Smelling ocean and tropics, piquant, pulling on you. Skipping small stones, laying flower peddles on water interrupting, rippling circles expanding outward, Chakras perspiring, opening up, attuned, flora magnified a thousand times.
On Christmas Day We Three Kings woke at sun-rise and caught a taxi to a beach out of town, a run-down movie set where a Tarzan TV series was once filmed. The beach was full of Mexicans on Christmas Holiday. The huts used on the Tarzan set had been annexed by the local Mexicans, they set up bars in beach-huts, grills that cooked fresh fish, parrot, red sea bass, plenty beer on ice, soda, no signs anywhere.
Christmas day, the ocean was like a free juke-box, waves repetitive, rythmatic, Mexicans sat up-right in close-set groups on blankets, drinking, eating, cantina music coming from a radios, the atmosphere was festive.
We Three Kings just wanted to drink beer, Stanley was the oldest at16, the Mexican vendors didn't give a shit, we bought Corona with limes by the arms-full, played in the ocean, Henry and Mona talking allot about "what is life?" Existence, is there a God? What kind of music do you like? Meeting on a mental level, both virgins, blasted on beer.
After sunset, we went back to the Los Hamacas
tired, wanting to rest. We went to Stanley's and Mona's room, two single beds, Henry and Mona in one bed, Stanley passed out in the other.
Henry and Mona, every breath new, deep tongue kissing, opening buttons and zippers, fumbling, getting naked, almost there, Henry finding her vagina lubing her with coconut oil, with effort going inside her, Mona surprised, shocked some, not feeling much, Henry coming in 15 seconds, enjoying the smell of her vagina, both hugging when it was over, laughing, drinking beer, in sync, full of the joy of Christmas.
Rattled some, thinking of sex, Henry had forgotten Christmas dinner with his parents. He was walking out the back door to take a swim and his Mother Pauline corned him, he knew what was coming, his Mother saying...
"Henry where have you been all day, your father and I have been worried sick about you, we think you have been up to something, you didn't leave a note" and so on…
Henry's Mother smacked him about, just teasers, (mercifully his old man Bruno wasn't there, once he took off his belt, just run if you are in the open.)
Pauline going from lecturing to sermonizing, juiced..
"Henry you missed Mass, this is Christmas, A time for families to be together, to pay respect to the Lord, I can smell beer on you. Maybe you should go to confession tomorrow, Henry this and that, blah."
Slapping Henry a few more times, luckily on her way to meet Bruno at the Flamingo Club, a strip joint or fuck show. Pauline and Bruno big Martini drinkers who dug kinky shit, commited Catholics, hip in their own way.
A truly wonderful Christmas, not the usual thing.
Christmas stuff, in sync, We Three Kings, given the gift of life's pleasures by the Lord on Christmas. For Henry the best Christmas on record, no churches or crucifixes, no cozy fire, no fat dinner, just the magic colored lights of the city, on the Acapulco streets, in the bars. We Three Kings, the best Christmas gift of all, Mona, Henry and Stanley, having a spiritual Christmas, green and red colored gamma-rays, the true stuff.