| Section 3.6-1 Palmes del Mar to Humacao Friday Morning until Friday Afternoon March 22nd, 1991 |
I awaken just before sunrise to begin my next day. Amazingly I am fully refreshed
and ready to go after only just over an hour’s worth of sleep. Since things hadn't
been going too well at Palmas del Mar, I decidedly head to where at least I am liked.
I drove away from the stinky rich resort of Palmas del Mar and headed to the town of
nice but poor people - Buena Vista.
During my drive out of Palmas del Mar, back to the town of Humacao and out toward
the ocean and Buena Vista, the new day's sun was just starting to lighten the sky. In
the twilight I could see today would be a rainy day. The winds were still gusty at
times and big white clouds intermixed with dark grey ones were passing rushedly
overhead. I arrived at the turn off from the main road out of Humacao which heads
to Buena Vista. I made the turn and began to pass lush green wet fields which were
so full of beauty that I decided to video tape them as I am driving past them.
Somehow, while driving, I took out the video camera, turned it on, and placed it in the
front window of the van so it could record the drive through the wonderfully lush
fields of cane.
I arrive at my phone stand and pull the van into the empty lot. Two fellows, both of
whom are happy and friendly, greet my arrival. I get out of the van and we introduce
ourselves. One of the fellows introduces himself in a happy bellowing voice as
follows: "My name is Luis and I'm a black Puerto Rican and I'm proooooud of it," this
later statement being a phrase he would repeat often this morning. The other fellow
introduces himself less theatrically. His name was Timás. He went on to explain that
he was from a rather rich family in town but he had moved out here to Buena Vista
because of family problems and he liked it here better anyway.
I told Luis and Timás that I was here to use the pay phone. They seemed to already
know that. They apparently had heard about a young redheaded man who had
used the phone extensively yesterday. They had come today, expecting that I might
return. I glanced up at the pay phone to see if the milk crate was still there but
unfortunately it was missing. Suddenly, the dark clouds above us began to let loose
rain in buckets, so we all three ran into the van for cover.
Luis and I sat in the back area of the van while Timás stood outside of the open side
door with a newspaper held above his head. I got out the CD player and Luis and I
began to listen to the music. After the rains stopped and the sun broke through the
clouds, we headed back out of the van and I headed to the phone.
As the sun began to warm the air again Timás began to sing a repetitive song like a
crowing morning cock. There were only three words to his song and they were as
follows: "Santos, Santiago, Santana." He would draw out the accented vowel (the
second to the last vowel) in Santana as he sang so it sounded more like
Santaaaaaaana. Once he got to the end of his song he would begin again at the
start. The smile on his face while he sang would surely show anybody his happiness
and might lead someone to believe he was in heaven.
I ask Luis if he knows where I can find something to sit on and he tells me, pointing to
the first house down the street to the left of the intersection, that they have offered
me use of a chair if I want one.
So I run over to the house and ask if I can borrow a chair. Sure enough, they indeed
had heard about me from yesterday and they show me to an old weathered wooden
rocking chair sitting in their carport. I grab hold of the chair while thanking them and
I carry the large rocking chair back to the pay phone.
I sit down in the chair and take my organizer out of my backpack to make my first call
of the day. Luís is still sitting in the van listening to music and Timás is still just
standing outside of the van singing his song off and on. I go to make my first call
and the rains come pouring down again. I grab my organizer and run back to the
van getting soaked with rain in the process.
Once I'm in the van Luís asks me if I want to go to the beach here in Buena Vista this
afternoon. I agreed to take time to do that. Then he asks me if I have a little money
so he can go to the store and get us something to eat and a bottle of Puerto Rican
rum. He asks me if I've ever had any Puerto Rican rum. I haven't so I respond,
"Nope, never."
He comes back and says in his sweet accent, "You've neeeever had Porto Rican
rum? Well, then you’ve gotta try some." I told him it's only morning. He says,
"That's O.K." I'll only get a small bottle." I give him a few dollars and tell him I'm only
having a sip of the rum though. As soon as the rains stop Luís and Timás head on
down the street to the store and I return to the now wet rocking chair.
I began my calling as yesterday. I wished to call Karen, the travel agent in
Washington, D.C.; Parjeet, my friend in San Diego; Danny in Dominica; my aunt
Sharon in Mulkiteo, Washington, for legal documents; Frye's Electronics in San Jose
about problems with my CD player; and several other persons. So of course I
wished to do the dialing myself. This way, I could conserve on the number of times I
would need to call MCI's 800 number and the number of times I would have to enter
my 10 digit security code. But as before, I could never complete a call myself. All of
my calls were destined to be intercepted by the MCI operators.
As I had done yesterday, I would ask for their name, just their first name. I would
keep track of their operator number and their responses to my questions. This day I
was put through to the supervisor quite often. Here are some of the operator's
responses (please keep in mind that all operator numbers have been changed to
protect the innocent):
"This is operator 302, how may I help you?"
"May I have your name please?"
"I am operator 302."
"No, I mean your first name."
"I can't give you that sir."
"You can't give me your first name, the one your parents gave you at birth, the
parent who loved you enough to think of a special name just for you?"
"No sir, I can't. It's against the policy."
Next operator:
]
"This is operator 547, how may I help you?"
"May I start by having your name please?"
"I am operator 547."
"No, I mean your first name, the one your parents gave you at birth, the parents who
loved you enough to think of a name just for you."
"Operator 547, sir."
"You mean operator 547 is on your birth certificate?"
"Yes sir it is."
I laugh and say, "Listen, I know there is a policy against giving your first name. But
next week I will own your company. I'll be coming to your office there in Washington,
D.C. on Thursday. I am at this very moment keeping track of all of your responses. I
tell you it's all right for you to break the policy and give me your name, O.K."
"I can't do that sir. Here let me give you to my supervisor."
I speak to the supervisor and have her place my call, talk to Karen to have her set
up the flight reservations for Rosy and Greg, Parjeet, Surinder, and their son Suri,
and me. We talk about my need for a travel agent for the corporation I was starting
to form and I was choosing her to be that agent for now. I was to call her back this
evening to find out the arrangements she made. I was about to move on to more fun
with the MCI operators when Luís and Timás arrived along with another blast of rain
and wind. Luís and I headed to the van while Timás once again stayed outside and
covered his head with the morning newspaper.
Luís gave me a taste of the small bottle of rum he purchased and he and Timás
finished the bottle off in minutes. Luís saw my cell phone and took it out to play with
it. I explained to him I'd rather be using the cell phone rather than the pay phone but
the damned thing won't work. Luís continues to listen to the CD player but as he's
listening, it stops. He hands it to me and I see that the battery is out of charge. I
take out my other two rechargeable batteries and they also were discharged. So I
ask Luís if he might know somebody who lives around here that would let me plug
the CD player in to charge the batteries. He thought the people who let me borrow
the rocking chair might. They didn't speak English well and I didn’t speak Spanish at
all, so I left it to him to go ask them.
The rains ceased and I headed on back to the rocking chair to continue my fun with
MCI. I dialed their number.
"This is operator 121. How may I help you?"
"Well, I wish to place a call but first what is your name please?"
"I am operator 121."
"No, I mean your first name not your operator number."
"I can't give you that sir."
"You can't give me your first name, the one your parents gave you at birth, the
parents who loved you enough to think of a name?"
"No sir, I can't. It's against the policy."
"I tell you, at this very moment I own your company. In fact, the truth is that you and I
have owned MCI all along; you just didn't know it. I will be in Washington, D.C. on
Thursday and I'll be coming into your office to meet you personally. I am keeping
track of your responses and I tell you it is O.K. for you to tell me your first name."
She responds, "My name is Maria sir. This is my first day on the job." I go on to
explain to her that she could run the company just as well as the president of the
company. I also let her know that I own the company, she owns the company, and
everybody owns the company and we always have - it has just been hidden from us.
She agrees to this viewpoint. I go on to explain that I am in Puerto Rico and I am
having an awful time trying to make business connections to friends in the states.
So I ask her to please stay on the line while I talked to my friends briefly and then
she could place my next call for me. She agreed to do this.
I give her the phone number of my friend Parjeet in San Diego and she connects me
with him. After talking with Parjeet she places my next call for me. I try to reach
Danny in Dominica but it is a wrong number. They give us the correct number and
she dials this number for me. Danny wasn't in his room. As I go to have her place
the next call Luís and Timás want to give my CD player and Cellular phone to a
passing local who they had been talking to while I was on the phone. I said good-
bye to Maria and began to assess the situation. The fellow who wants to take my CD
player and phone spoke no English. So Luís tells me the fellow in the car will take
my CD player home and charge it up. He also will take the phone to see if he can
get it to work. I'm a bit uncomfortable with this idea but Luís explains that he's a fairly
rich guy in town and he has such things of his own already. I was satisfied with their
confidence and I also rationalized that nobody would take something from you when
you have a description of the person, the car, and a physically impaired child who
was the son of the man driving the car. I gave the go ahead with certain trust and
faith.
I continued my calling but never reached anybody but the operators, keeping track
of their operator numbers and their responses while informing them that I would be
seeing them on Thursday. The rains came again and I headed back to the van.
Within fifteen minutes of letting my CD player and cellular phone go off with a
stranger, the stranger returns and drops off the cellular phone indicating to Luís that
he couldn't get it to work. Luís, Timás, and I continue to sit in the car waiting for the
rains to subside. Fifteen minutes later the stranger returns and wants the phone
again; he thinks he knows how to get it to work. I decide to let him take it.
Tired of making phone calls I head to the van to relax and wait for the CD player to
return from charging. It normally takes about 2 to 3 hours to charge. While waiting
Luís suggests that we should go to the beach now. He thinks that I would really like
the beach since I have never been in Puerto Rico. Before going to the beach
however he wants to go to Humacao to get some food from a fast food restaurant
and being awfully hungry I agree to this. Before we leave however, I take some
pictures of Luís and some passers-by. These photos finished off my first roll of film
since leaving Vancouver in February. I return the rocking chair in a downpour to the
neighbors who loaned it to me thanking them very much and then Luís, Timás, and I
leave for Humacao.
Once in Humacao, Luís wants to be dropped off at a government housing project on
the south side of town to visit a friend. After dropping Luís off, Timás and I drive into
the heart of Humacao where I find a one-hour film-processing store. I drop the film
off and go back to the projects to pick up Luís. He hops in the van and we speed on
over to the fast food place and load up on burgers, fries, and Cokes. We wait until
we are back in Buena Vista to eat.
We arrive back at the pay phone in Buena Vista and park in the empty lot. We eat
our food and then Luís heads home to get a cousin to go to the beach with us. Luís
had pointed me to where he lived on our way back from Humacao.
After a short time, Timás and I decide to drive to Luís’ house to see what is holding
him up. Luís sees us driving up the road to his house and he comes running toward
us. He jumps into the van and we drive back down the road to pick up his cousin.
Once his cousin is on board we drive back toward Humacao and turn off toward the
ocean down a dirt road through the fields. Luís kindly explains to me that the fields
are sugar cane fields but I had realized this earlier just by seeing the height and
shape of the crop.
The beach was great - remote and private and beautiful. As we walked along the
beach we came across a few fellows digging for crabs. This was something new for
me. In the Pacific Northwest all you do is walk out into cold, cold water until the water
hits you right in your crotch (try it some time guys) and look for the Dungeness crabs
walking around on the bay bottom. But here in Puerto Rico, they had to dig five to
six-foot holes in the sand in search of the 3 to 4 inch wide crabs. As they would dig,
the crabs would also be digging just as fast. It was more similar to the way we catch
clams in the Pacific Northwest than crabs.
** Sugar Cane Field Similar to Fields in Buena Vista, Puerto Rico **
1991
1991
Puerto Rico Telefonica Pay Phone Circa 1991
World Turned Upside Down