It’s April 27, 1986, in Key West, Florida, and Havana, Cuba. The 2 cities couldn’t be more different, except for the rain, which has been coming down hard since the 25th in both municipalities.
Henry’s sitting in his office waiting for breakfast, which his Cuban wife Lucia and their lover Summer Wynd are making in the kitchen.
The phone rings, it’s Dave Spleen, editor, and publisher of HEADBANGER Magazine. During the 60s the journal was 1 of the original Big Apple free-press publications, along with— NYC Underground Magazine, it, The Other, and OZ. Henry picks up the handset of the landline phone saying hello and Dave tells him,
my man, go through your saved editions of The Gringo Times, pick an article and recast it as a short story. Fax it to me tomorrow and I’ll run it in Friday’s edition.
By the way, I'm watching the Weather Channel on TV, and South Florida is getting hammered by torrential rain. Keep your powder dry babe, gotta go gotta deadline to meet!
Henry edited The Gringo Times while living in Cuba. He'd rewrite an article from the journal as an anecdote and fax it to Dave in New York.
The Tribe, Henry, Lucia, and Summer Wynd eat on a long antique wooden table in the kitchen because a downpour is splashing water on the front porch where they usually ate brunch.
Henry tagged his brood the tribe as an affront to those traditional families who considered the label an insult. Like, you were suggesting they had bones in their noses, wore leopard-skin loincloths, and sucked breakfast from the juggler vein of a Maasai cow.
Nicknaming the gang the tribe signaled that Henry, Lucia, and Summer Wynd’s lifestyle was bohemian— unburdened by religious quilt, on the loose, and pleasure-loving.
In 1963, when Henry was 14, his mother Ethel Lucowski put him on a Greyhound bus bound for Harrisburg, Pennsylvania, where he would spend the summer working at his Uncle Victor Lucowski’s coat hanger factory.
The Greyhound bus pulls out of the Broadway depot, maneuvering like a behemoth through the crowded New York City streets, then driving through Holland Tunnel to Interstate 78 east.
Henry's sitting alone on the bus, wearing Madras shorts, a Polo shirt, penny loafers, blue socks, and his hair is cut crew cut style.
In the late 60s, he got his last haircut and never went to a barber again.
He feels pleased to be free from his alcoholic mother, who caroused Harlem with Black musicians most the time.
Since Ethel wasn't home much he was raised by his deaf nanny Nil.
One day he and Nil were chatting, passing notes to one another. Hitting on the subject of sex, they discover they're both virgins. Nil jots down,
let's fuck, we can go to my room.
Henry was 12 and Nil was 18, she was horny and he was curious. The thought that he was under the age of consent didn't cross their minds.
They walk to Nil’s room and sit on her bed, reviewing her copy of The Illustrated Guide to Sexology, pointing at drawings of sex organs, foreplay methodology, positions, and so on until they felt confident enough to give sex a try.
After they get naked, Nil lays on her bed with her legs open and up in the air, revealing a pinky finger-sized purple clitoris surrounded by a mound of red hair.
Henry gets on the bed and kneels facing her, getting hard instantly. Nil pulls his penis towards her vagina, slowing inserting it, her hymen stretches, she feels pleasurable pain and bleeds some.
Their 1st experience was over in less than a minute. Nil enjoyed it overall, but Henry shook nervously throughout his initiation to the world of manhood.
The Greyhound bus Henry's riding is an hour and a 1/2 out of New York, the driver wheels the rig into and parks at the central bus station in downtown Allentown, Pennsylvania.
He eyeballs a mysterious passenger walking down the aisle who’s wearing a brown fedora, has a long black beard, and a sizeable gold earring in his right ear.
In the early 60s, a guy with a long beard and earring stood out like Zebra at a horse show.
The stranger sits next to Henry tipping his hat slightly and saying,
I’m Vano, I’m a Romani Gypsy, and you’re? He doesn’t trust Vano so he says,
I'm Ricco,
Vano reaches for and holds Henry’s hand with the palm up and quizzically examines the creases saying,
your heartline reveals you're going to meet a dark and sultry woman, who's your soulmate. Your headline shows writing is your calling. Your sunline says you will face a dark dilemma in the near future. The precocious 14-year old tells Vano, not realizing the Gypsy's revelations are spot on,
Who wants to know how a movie ends before they’ve seen it? Veno who’s old enough to be his father laughs saying,
very clever Ricco! I like you so I'm going to tell you a story, it's a Gypsy secret.
Jesus was being crucified by Sardinian soldiers, who were nailing him to the cross. A beautiful Gypsy girl, Esmeralda, begins to cry. She pities Jesus so much that when the Sardinians go away for a smoke break, she runs to the foot of Jesus’s cross, reaching up and pulling the nail out of his feet, relieving his pain. Jesus looks down at her and says,
Bless you, Esmeralda, because you risked your life to comfort me, I give my blessing to Gypsies thievery for time internum.
So you see Ricco, Gypsies everywhere have Jesus’s permission to take what they want in life.
Vano walks off the bus at the Greyhound station in downtown Enola. Henry exhales, thankful because the Gypsy talked nonstop for the last 100 miles.
At 6 PM his bus is slowly moving through Harrisburg, Pennsylvania, it's a 2 stoplight town. Henry's disappointed because summer vacation is a time to enjoy and go to—
Coney Island, Park City Swim Club, or the American Natural History Museum.
But, he'll be spending the next 2 months in a wasteland working in a coat hanger factory, and during his off time chewing gum, reading comic books, and staring at the ceiling of his room.
His Uncle's waiting for him, sitting in a Silver Mercedes Benz which is parked in a bus lane. He owned Harrisburg so he could park where he wanted.
Victor Lucowski is dressed as though he's going to Octoberfest in Munich, wearing Lederhosen with a waist-length Janker coat, grey with green labels.
His hair's primped in the shape of a White man’s afro and he has aviator glasses with red lenses on.
Henry opens the front door of the Benz, throws his gym bag in the back seat, and sits down next to his Uncle.
Victor drives the Beanz out towards his mansion. When they reach the 4 level red stone castle his Uncle drives past it saying,
how about that villa? It’s the biggest mansion in Blair County. By the way, you’ll be staying at the factory. Henry says sarcastically feeling uneasy,
size matters alright,
as they drive to the factory Victor opens the central console of the Benz, pulling out a flask with a Totenkopf, the SS skull insignia on it, hoisting it towards the clouds, taking a swig and saying,
ein toast to slave labor, Jägermeister mead of the gods!
At the factory, Victor stops his car at a security box where the guard salutes him and says briskly,
good afternoon Herr Kommandant!
They drive under a rusty semi-circular sign that spans the width of the driveway, reading,
LUCOWSKI KLEIDERBÜGEL
The factory, which was a munitions facility during WW2, has 4 brown-brick warehouses with dark aluminum framed windows and is surrendered by a chain-link fence trimmed with barbwire.
Victor parks in his personal parking place with his name on it. Henry and he get out of the Mercedes, walking into an industrial building with a corporate office and storage area. They trek up a spotlessly polished stairwell to a long hallway with numbered rooms
As they reach the end of the hall at room 23, his Uncle opens the door to Henry’s small quarters— it has flat grey walls, a window covered by a piece of material, a fan, a table with a Grundig radio on it, 2 chairs, and a metal-framed single bed.
Victor's demeanor is detached and cold as he hands Henry a 50 dollar bill saying,
that’ll last you till your first paycheck kid. Downtown Harrisburg is a few blocks from the factory, you can walk there to eat, get supplies, whatever. Report to building 3 Monday morning at 7 AM, ask for Herr Fry, he’ll get you started on the assembly line. I have some business to take care of, Guten Abend!
Victor walks out of the barren room, and 14-year-old Henry sits down on the thin mattress of the metal bed, sobbing with his head in his hands.
He feels alone and terrified, like a prisoner in Auschwitz or Bergen-Belsen, Nazi concentration camps he had read about in the World Book Encyclopedia.
He had the 50 dollars his Uncle gave him, and 75 dollars his Mother Ethel put in his pants pocket as he boarded the bus at the Greyhound Station in New York.
Suddenly, he feels gripped by stress, his heartbeat quickens and his muscles tense up. He jumps up from the bed, grabs his gym bag and runs out of the facility to the entrance of his Uncle's coat hanger factory where he asks the security guard,
Herr guard, which way to the Alps? The guard chuckles saying,
the bus station is on 11th street, walk straight for 5 blocks and turn left at 11th. Sonny, if you know what’s good for you, get out of here fast!
Henry reaches the bus depot, going to the counter and paying 55 dollars for a ticket on the 800 PM bus to New York City.
He waits till the Greyhound bus shows, getting on and walking down the unlit aisle, then turning and stepping over an old lady to get to the window seat.
As the Greyhound bus speeds eastward on Interstate 78 he feels sheltered as the miles tick by on the odometer, forging distance between him and the Schutzstaffel.
The old gal sitting at his side is snoring and the cadence of her breath lolls him to sleep.
At the bus depot in New York City, the driver wakes him saying,
last stop kid!
Henry takes a taxi to the family apartment in Queens, using a key to get in because his deaf nanny Nil wouldn't be able to hear the building door buzzer to ring him in.
Inside on the 8th floor, he unlocks the apartment door, walking to the kitchen and startling Nil, who is sitting at a linoleum table drinking coffee, smoking cigarettes, and reading Catcher in the Rye.
She jumps up from her chair and hugs Henry with everything she's got, overjoyed he’s home. As they sit down at the linoleum table for coffee Nil laughs, writing him a note in pencil on a pad, reading,
Your mother told me your Uncle's a Nazi! He roars with laughter, writing back,
yeah, he's super weird!
25 years later, Henry's working in the office of his Key West bungalow.
Lucia, Summer Wynd, the Chis, and Pedro the woodpecker are at Dog Beach. The girls luxuriate in their thong bikinis, drinking fresh coconut juice mixed with rum, as the Chis and Pedro play.
Henry's busy in his office rewriting a story from The Gringo Times on GITMO, at Guantanamo Bay.
Dave Spleen his editor had bankrolled The Gringo Times, a weekly expatriate journal published in Havana with articles on anything the Department of Revolutionary Orientation didn’t censor.
The rag was a 2 man show, Henry and Si Spleen did it all— photographs, writing, editorials, editing, and the dummy page.
A trip to Camp X-Ray
Henry walks out of his Old Havana apartment building, going to a nearby Cubano food stand, sitting on a stool and eating chicken, yellow rice, beans, and honeyed plantains.
Home again, he prepares for the trip the Guantanamo, showering then dressing like Earnest Hemmingway in khakis, a hunting vest, a short-sleeved oxford shirt, loafers, then oiling his salt and pepper waist-length hair and braiding it Native American style.
He treks downstairs to the street from the 3rd floor of his apartment building that is falling to pieces bit by bit because of lousy maintenance and the salt from the sea air.
A 54 Chevy taxi is waiting, the rig has a V8 which runs on 2nd hand parts and is held together in places by baling wire.
He’s carrying an iced down cooler filled with chicken salad sandwiches and cans of Cristal Beer. It’s 8 in the evening and the drive to GITMO will take 12 hours.
The hack whose name is Mario, wheels the cab through the Havana streets swerving to avoid potholes.
Outside the city, Mario heads southwest on Highway A1, it's easy-going and pothole-free.
The Chevy's windows are open and the breeze fills the taxi with tropical air that revitalizes Henry. He offers Mario a beer, and for the remainder of the jaunt, they bang down suds like a couple of sailors on shore leave.
Mario’s indifferent to getting pulled over for drunk driving because it isn't against the law. But oddly, it’s illegal to be queer in Cuba.
By 2 AM Henry passes out in the back seat of the Chevy. When he wakes the next morning the taxi's parked in Guantanamo Square.
Noticing a group of what looks like journalists sitting inside an OD green bus, and feeling hungover he gets out of the Chevy and walks to the military bus, stepping aboard.
In 20 minutes the vehicle reaches the northeast gate of GITMO and is waved through by armed MPs.
As the Army bus moves through the military base, he's surprised to see it looks like a slice out of middle America, with— a Gold Coast gym, a Hooter's bar, a McDonalds, and even a Chuck E. Cheese. Every one of these fun places is a one of in Cuba
The bus stops in front of Camp X-Ray and the journalist file out. The prison is surrounded by an electrified gate trimmed with Concertina wire.
Henry pulls his passport and press pass from his vest pocket, feeling grubby because he hadn't shaved or brushed his teeth yet, and realizing he reeked of beer.
The entrance to Camp X-Ray is secured by 2 square-jawed Marines who look armed and dangerous.
Inside the journalist walk directly to the mess hall for a complimentary breakfast— eggs cooked to order, biscuits, hash browns, gravy, pancakes, and coffee. Eating the greasy GI meal and drinking a pot of coffee helps sobers him up.
After breakfast, the group meets their tour guide, an Army officer in starched fatigues who starts the tour with an introductory speech,
welcome to Camp X-Ray gentleman and germs, my name is Major Dickbaum— if you are in possession of any drugs, cameras, or weapons, check them with Sergeant Sitcom at the contraband room to your left. Sitcom will swallow the dope in the contraband room for you before the end of the tour.
The journalist follow Major Dickbaum through the prison, at some point, he rattles off the most bizarre statement of purpose speech under the sun,
Camp X-Ray offers our heathen Muslim detainees an opportunity to denounce Muhammad and find Jesus, eat pork chops, drink beer, shot pool, play blackjack, go to Vegas, watch pole dancers, go to rodeos, and most importantly learn to cuss and raise hell all-American style!
The journalists are then led to the detainee's mess hall where they're served Halal meals and allowed to watch videos on a TV inside a welded metal box. Major Dickbaum says,
as you can see we have a TV, the heathens particularly enjoy Harry Potter and Star Wars!
One of the journalist, Bent Dong Zoro from Boiling Stones Magazine asks Major Dickbaum,
empty facilities are cool, but where are the prisoners? The Major answers,
sir, military regulations prohibit contact with detainees to protect their identities. Henry wonders asking,
What the fuck Dickbaum? How can we identify detainees we don’t know? The Major abruptly says,
gentleman, and germs, I want to thank you for touring Camp X-Ray today, please retrieve your contraband, and make your way to the front of the facility where you can board the transport vehicle.
The journalist are shut down after only 2 questions. On the bus back to Guantanamo Henry is sitting next to Bent Dong Zoro who comments,
My editor, Jan Weener, is going to be boguu pissed, he bankrolled my trip to Cuba and the Army led us up a garden path to a shithouse. Henry asks,
you got a storyline? Bent Dong Zoro answers,
outer-space, Disneyland and shame, shame, shame on Bush and Cheney! They laugh as Bent Dong Zoro wonders,
whataya make of it? Other than the Camp X-Ray tour was FUBAR? Henry answers,
Camp X-Ray is detaining extraterrestrials who eat pizza, burgers, drink Cherry Coke, and love watching Harry Potter videos.
The Army bus reaches Guantanamo Square where Mario is waiting in his taxi. Henry gets off the bus thinking the tour was absolutely lame except for the GI chow.
He opens the backseat door of the Chevy, sits down and Mario hands him a beer, then putting the peddle to the metal, roaring down Highway A1.
20 meters out of Guantanamo, Mario pulls the taxi over and parks at an open-air cantina made of bamboo and palm leaves that is strung with red lights.
The patio bar is packed with armed Cuban soldiers carousing with rough-looking hookers— soldiers, guns, hookers, and booze is always an explosive mix.
Henry and Mario sit down at a separate table ordering— mojo chicken, rice, beans, and beer. They watch the soldiers bang down shots of cheap Cuban rum as they curse one another and molest the putas. Mario warns him,
señor Henry, we should pay and get outta here, the soldiers don’t like gringos and they are muy borracho!
As they walk out of the Cantina a soldier horse collars Henry, pushing him on the lap of a hooker and saying,
you in a hurry gringo? Siéntate, join us, you like chicas or you homo?
As he sits on the hooker’s lap she rubs his groin. The Cuban soldier who's looking to rumble says,
what you doing with my puta, chico? Mario who is standing behind Henry says to the soldier,
el jefe, the gringo has Tuberculosis, cover your mouth when he coughs!
Henry coughs dramatically, the soldier turns white and covers his mouth, worried he's caught TB, saying to Mario,
you and the gringo should make tracks, it’s a long drive to Havana.
Mario drives Henry straight to Havana, stopping occasionally for so they can take pee breaks. They drink beer after beer and laugh about the fiasco with the Cuban soldier at the cantina.
The following morning at 10 AM Mario pulls his Chevy taxi up to the front door of Henry’s apartment. Henry pays him handsomely, walks up 3 flights of stairs to his apartment, and passes out on the living room sofa, sleeping till 8 PM that evening.
When he wakes up he goes to the kitchen, warming up a can of pinto beans and boiling some quick-cooking Uncle Ben’s rice.
With a bowl of beans and rice nearby, he sits in front of the typewriter that's set on a long table in the living room, typing out his story on the GITMO trip.
Essentially saying—
The Army and Air force are imprisoning, interrogating, and doing medical research on extraterrestrials. There are no Islamic prisoners at Camp X-Ray.
The pint-size ETs know they can de-materialize and pass through the prison barriers at will, but Camp X-Ray amuses them, as they— watch Star Wars and Harry Potter videos, eat Hawaiian Pizza, and down mass quantities of Cherry Cokes in the canteen.