It’s early March 1986, the tribe— Henry, Lucia, and Summer Wynd are back in Key West after a road trip to New Orleans cut short by bad fortune, a cocaine bust, Henry's. If you want to know the details read Fat Tuesday, Shhhit Man, it's here.
Henry's up early, the girls are asleep in the bedroom. He walks out the front door of the tribe's bungalow with the Chihuahuas, Che, and Mia in tow as their pet woodpecker, Pedro, follows airborne.
Walking on Flagler Street, a well-manicured suburban conclave, he's careful to avoid eye contact with his milk toast neighbors whose paramount concern is that dog owners carry pooh-pooh bags. Unaware that composted dog poo is decent fertilizer, preferring to fertilize their lawns and bushes using nondegradable Monsanto pellets with residues that seep into and poison underground springs.
Onwards, there's a story about Jack Kerouac during the period he was living with his mother in Orlando, Florida. At the time— hardly Beat, more beaten down, downing bottles of port wine to deflect the glare of fame.
Kerouac was desperate for money to pay his mother’s hospital bills so he wrote Marlon Brando a letter asking him to buy the rights to his groundbreaking novel On the Road and make it into a movie.
In the letter, Kerouac proposed that Brando would play the book's hero, the freewheeling speed freak Dean Moriarty— who went on to ramrod Ken Kesey’s LSD bus trip across America, later chronicled by Tom Wolfe, who wasn't there, in his book The Electric Kool-Aid Acid Test.
Kerouac would play his character in On The Road, Sal Paradise, in the film.
The wizard of ozone park also put forward a novel idea to film On the Road by strapping a 35 Millimeter camera on a convertible hot rod, shooting while driving cross country as Brando and Kerouac ad-libbed recreating the scenes and essence of the On the Road happening.
Brando never wrote Kerouac back, putting the kibosh on the offer. But, if Brando would have decided to go through with the project, the film would have made history and busted the mold of Hollywood films of the late 50s— big stars, big screens, big color, big money, big productions, and namby-pamby plots, proof that good conquered all, maybe it does.
Much later, Francis Ford Coppola produced a movie version of Kerouac’s book aptly titled On the Road which flatlined, failing to pick up on the vital spark of the book, instead resembling a group of clueless university kids on a road trip working at being cool.
Back at the bungalow, Henry unleashes the Chis, wondering where Pedro the woodpecker was? Unworried because Pedro always showed at mealtime.
Lucia and Summer Wynd are in the kitchen preparing brunch— refried black beans, an omelet, brown rice, homemade tortillas, and plenty of Columbian coffee with hot milk.
Soon, the tribe is eating outside on the bungalow porch, spiking their coffee with Kailua. Lucia, Henry's Cuban wife, is applying for US citizenship and she says,
I hope you guys are coming with me to Miami tomorrow. I’m going to take the civics and English language test at The Office of New Citizens. I’ve been studying my ass off, ask me anything?
Name 2 parts of the US government?
Congress and the House,
what is freedom of religion?
You can practice the religion of your choice, or enjoy sin if you wish.
Lucia goes on,
I’m going to pass, I’m an actress, I have a good memory, I’ve memorized 100s of questions and answers for the civics test. Summer Wynd encourages her,
You’re going to ace the exam darling, we love you so much. Henry cuts in,
what time’s the exam?
1 PM,
it’s a 4-hour drive to Miami, let’s spend the night. I’ll book a room at the Fontainebleau Hotel, maybe we’ll see Sinatra, Michael Jackson, Madonna or Elvis, Lucia laughs saying,
Elvis esta muerto, pendejo.
Lucia, speak English until after the exam.
Oh, the fucking exam, las putas en inmigración have changed the name of their ministry to The Office of New Citizens, putting a happy face on la burocracia that soullessly processes new immigrants like their toy monkeys on an assembly line. Summer Wynd encourages Lucia saying,
sweetie, keep positive, maybe the pressure of studying is getting to you. Good thoughts attract good results. Then Henry comments,
The Office of New Citizens sounds like a ministry in Orwell's 1984, The Ministry of New Citizens.
After the talk on the happy face bureau—crazy, La Oficina de Nuevas Ciudadanas, the tribe’s thirsty.
They clean up, dressing in cut-offs, tank tops, and rubber slippers, nothing fancy because Key West is the only city in America where residents are buried in Hawaiian shirts and shorts with their hands wrapped around a bottle of St. Augustine Rum. Have you seen a picture of Ernest Hemingway in a tuxedo?
The tribe locks the bungalow and piles into Henry’s 73 Chevy Malibu wagon that’s on the driveway.
The plan is to go to an upscale joint in downtown Key West called Latitudes, a place where chefs arrange minuscule portions of quality food on a plate to look like a Miro painting.
As they drive down Sailfish Avenue Lucia notices a seedy bar with a neon sign that reads LOU'S, a hangout for migratory bums and local barflies.
Darling, mira la nasty cantina, pull over.
Henry parallel parks the Chevy wagon, the threesome gets out, walking into LOU’S.
The joint reeks of mildew and the Miller beer signs covering the greasy walls are covered with dust.
There are a dozen barflies with their heads down in LOU'S— adrift in drink. Summer Wynd's put off by the seedy bar saying,
Jesus, what a zombie-pit, there's a hazardous odor in the air, I'd feel safer wearing a gas mask. Henry interrupts saying,
the local color here is magnificent.
They sit at the bar, the bartender approaches, he looks like Santa Claus wearing a white captain’s cap and a latex shirt missing the buttons, exposing his rotund gut. He asks,
whataya folks have?
3 boilermakers,
They're served a shot of Four Roses Whiskey and a mug of beer each. The girls watch Henry drop a shot into his mug of beer and do the same.
By the 3rd round, Summer Wynd the voice of reason wonders,
what in God's name are we doing here? Henry, do you find the experience existential?
An over the hill hippie with shoulder-length white hair and a deeply wrinkled face resembling the surface of an overripe squash approaches them, a true aquarian waxing poetically.
fellow travelers, they call me Moon Dog, I rode a moonbeam to South Florida 63 years ago. I'm known round these parts for my verse and moves. Lucia gives him the evil eye saying,
what a crock of shit, pendejo.
Ignoring Lucia Moondog continues to pitches,
crank up the jukebox and I'll show you my stuff.
Bored stupid, hoping the shipwrecked hippy doesn't drop his drawers, Henry walks to the jukebox randomly picking 6 45 RPMs. The sounds of Booker T and the MG’s Hip-Hug-Her rumbles through the low-grade jukebox speakers
The barflies in Lou’s, unmoved, stare into their drinks, oblivious to the music, lost in a nether land of cortical brain rot. Moondog signals the bartender saying,
Lou pour the dog 3 shots of Duggan's Dew.
Lou pours the shots for the wino poet who sucks them down. Then as Low Rider by War plays Moondog leaps up unto the bar counter, standing, then gyrating, reaching for the sky.
As he's dancing on the bar he stumbles over a drink, slipping and falling to the floor, whimpering and saying,
I'm hurtin big time, somebody help.
Henry notices a bone protruding from Moondog's foreleg, an open fracture, he tells Lou the bartender to call 911. Then, tossing a 20 dollar bill on the bar and walking out with the girls to the parked Chevy Wagon. The tribe gets in and goes home.
Later that evening, Summer Wynd orders take out Chinese from Fung Goo.
Soon, they're eating egg rolls, pork fried rice, and chop suey out of containers with chopsticks, watching Bewitched reruns on the Oldies Channel. Lucia wonders,
Do you think the pendejo Moondog has insurance? Henry chuckles,
The bum's on crazy pay, he has the best insurance money can buy, welfare.
By 10 PM Bonanza and Combat reruns are on the tube. The tribe is nodding out. Summer Wynd asks Lucia,
Baby, are you asleep?
No, no, I'm just resting my eyes.
Nobody will admit their asleep in front of the TV if asked. Not even social anthropologists know why. Henry says,
Let’s go to bed, I wanna leave at 5 tomorrow for Miami. You ready for your exams babe?
Le rezo a Jesus, I’m ready.
Summer Wynd wakes everyone at 5 AM.
Lucia places 2 large baking bowls of dry dog food on the kitchen floor and a metal bowl of seeds mixed with dried fruit on the dining room table for Pedro the woodpecker. The back door of the bungalow has a pet door so the animals can come and go into the fenced-off yard. Of course, the fence is no barrier for Pedro, because he's blessed with the gift of flight.
Henry pulls the Chevy wagon out of the bungalow's termite-eaten garage that stands on a whim and a prayer. The girls jump into the front seat with him, tossing a knock-off Gucci suitcase into the bed of the station wagon.
Backing out of the driveway at a 90-degree angle, burning rubber, Henry stops the Chevy on a dime causing the body to shuffle back and forth. Lucia's shaken, asking,
what was that about pendejo? Are you going to drive like a maniac all day? Let's enjoy the trip.
My foot wedged between the gas and brake pedals, I panicked for a moment, babe.
Take your boots off they're too hot for Florida. You think they're hip but they're not.
Henry had a novel style sense, grunge maybe, with braided waist-length hair wearing jungle combat boots, frayed Ts, and OD green shorts.
He drives north on Flagler Avenue to Highway 1 known as the Overseas Highway because it spans the open sea and the Key Islands.
Summer Wynd reaches into her bra, pulling out a joint, lighting it, and saying to Lucia,
maybe you shouldn’t get high before the test lover,
chica, dope fine-tunes the mind.
Lucia pulls a cassette from the glove compartment, Santana’s Amigos, she feels the Latin music deeply because her heart never left Havana.
An hour out of Key West Henry exits at Layton, a Key Island. He drives to Wendys, wheeling into the drive-through, ordering breakfast through a microphone.
3 bacon, egg, & cheese biscuit sandwiches, 3 OJs, and 3 large coffees with milk.
At the take-out window, he pays reaching for the bagged order, passing it to Summer Wynd who's sitting next to him in the front seat.
As Henry drives north on Highway 1 Lucis asks,
what's the hurry baby, let's pull over and have a picnic.
Pullover? Where? Look around, we're riding a cement beltway in the bowels of the Gulf of Mexico and Atlantic Ocean.
Summer Wynd feeds Henry as he drives and he says,
Now, this is nice, there's a restaurant called Four Hands in Bangkok where Thai women feed you by hand.
After feeding Henry, Summer Wynd moves about the wagon rolling the windows down and opening the sunroof manually. A sea breeze blows into the moving car off of Yacht Channel with a scent like piscine magnolias, regardless, the ocean air's refreshing.
In a few hours, they’re in Miami. Henry pulls into a Marathon station for gas and asks directions to The Fontainebleau Hotel, it’s across Biscayne Bay on Cousin's Street.
It's 10 AM and the tribe has time to burn before Lucis's green card exam at 1.
At the Fontainebleau Hotel, Henry drives the circular driveway to the front entrance and stops. The bellman secures their rip-off Gucci suitcase from the bed of the wagon as the hotel car jockey gets into the driver's seat saying,
smells good, what you smokin?
The tribe follows the bellman through a revolving door to the front desk.
The Fontainebleau lobby is gauche, an odd mixture of Ancient Greek and modern 60’s design, including a grand staircase that is known as the Staircase to Nowhere because it leads to a cloakroom and nothing else.
Best of all, when the sun sets magic transpires throughout the Fountainebleau. When the lobby and grounds light up like a Vegas techno show the gardens are run amok with guests smoking grass and getting it on in hidden places.
At the front desk, Henry pays for a night with a credit card.
The tribe follows the bellman to the elevator, getting in, floating upwards to the 9th floor, getting out, and walking to room 923, the bellman unlocks the door with the room key and hands it to Henry.
The oceanview room is all white except for the Ash bed frame, desk, and dresser.
Lucia tips the bellman and he says,
I have some mind-blowing Peruvian blow if you're interested.
The threesome change into their swimsuits for a dip in the pool before driving to immigration.
Wearing white hotel robes they take the elevator to the main floor and walk outside to the pool on the oceanside of the hotel.
The Fountainebleau pool is staggering— the size of 4 Olympic pools shaped like a trapezium with tall palm trees lining the perimeter.
The girls remove their bathrobes placing them on a patio table. Their statuesque bodies are scantily covered by knit thongs. Lucia looks like Sophia Loren with curly black hair and Summer Wynd resembles a voluptuous Christy Turlington
The pool crowd eyeballs the girls as they dive into the pool and splash water on one another.
Henry looks peculiar sitting cross-legged at a table, sipping a Pina Colada from a green coconut wearing a white robe with combat boots on.
The girls get out of the pool, parading and shaking their booties all the way to Henry's table at the far end of the pool, putting on a show.
Surely, the pool-goers wondered what a grunge-nik was doing with such heavenly women. Thinking he was a rock star.
Back in the room, they shower and dress. Lucia puts on a professional-looking blue Polo dress.
Taking the elevator to the lobby, at the front desk Henry asks the clerk for directions to The Office of New Citizens, the clerk says,
I’ll write it out for you sir,
the desk clerk scribbles on hotel stationery, the directions are simple.
Take 195 across the Biscayne Bay and drive south on 95. Exit at Little Havana and take 1st Street east to the 600 block.
The tribe stands outside the entrance of the Fontainebleau Hotel as the car jockey wheels the Chevy wagon thru the sharped cornered car paths of the parking lot to the hotel entrance.
Lucia tips the car jockey, the tribe gets in, sitting close in the front seat.
It’s midday so traffic on Interstate 95 is light. In 20 minutes they’re on 1st Street at The Office of New Citizens in Little Havana. It was no coincidence that Florida's largest immigration center was in Little Havana. The building's 10 stories high, a 60’s modern-style structure with underground parking.
Henry brakes the Chevy at a parking booth and is handed a ticket by an attendant.
The underground lot appears full, he drives down the curved roadway to the bottom level saying to the girls,
I bet this dungeon doubles as a hurricane shelter for Civil Defense.
Luckily, he finds a parking spot, backing his rig in.
They get out and walk the fire steps upwards to the lobby. Lucia steps up to the information desk saying,
I have a 1 o’clock appointment to take the citizenship test.
The lady desk clerk is Cuban, she says,
Dios mío, you're Lucia Vargas, the Cubano movie star, I loved you in Havana Vampires. Take the elevator to the 7th floor, sit down, and wait till your name is called.
As instructed the tribe takes the elevator to the 7th floor, where there are 30 or so people, mostly Cubans, sitting in rows of hard plastic chairs waiting to take their one on one citizenship tests.
The trio finds 3 chairs together. A 1/2 hour later an attractive and professionally dressed Cuban woman walks into the waiting area and says,
Lucia Lucowski, please follow me to room 700.
Lucia raises her hand and stands, feeling nervous. The 2 walk to an office size room and sit at a flat table facing each other. The test would be in 2 parts—10 civics questions from a list of 100 of which the applicant must score 9 out of 10, and an oral English exam.
The interviewer says,
Dios mios, I'm so excited, your Lucia Vargas, I loved you in The Last Supper, where you Castro’s lover?
Yes, one of many,
I’m Maria Lopez, I came to Miami during the Mariel Boat Lift with my husband. I'm a homemaker and I work for US Immigration as you can see.
I’ll fill out the written exam for you because so many Cubanos living in Little Havana will be happy to know your one of us now, a Cuban American.
Maria quickly checks off the correct answer on the civic’s exam, passing it to Lucia to sign. Then she says,
And, I’ll give you 100% on the oral exam.
The 2 women hug and cheek kiss. Lucia walks out of the exam room back to where Henry and Summer Wynd are sitting, they look at her with inquiring eyes and she says,
I passed,
Henry stands and hugs her saying,
Welcome to America baby, where staircases lead to nowhere.