The Atomic Hula - 1963
Chapter Three
Daybreak broke as the sun began it's vertical ascent above the endless, homeless horizon. Solar jaws opened wide to devour what remained of the fading night, choking on stars, planets and incestuously feasting on it's own crater infested, meteor battered sister Luna. It's a heroin heroine that numbs reality and human fear, holding demons at an opiate distance, at least until the night of dead living returns. It's then that reality and associated fears rematerialize and the demons laugh again.
Mickey now had pockets that were mean street empty. Money for rent had run as dry as the Colorado River in a drought, and he was now spare changed and on the bum; a haiku hobo without a net to catch him should he fall flying high from his tramp trapeze. Life for the young teen was about to become a promiscuous promised land of carnal carnage, heaving hot with a sordid assortment of Turkish delights in back alleys filled with secret doors that opened up to opulent dens of opium and smokey Julie Newmar inspired T-girl Bangkok bars. Honolulu, too, was a Mad Hatters tea party and Mickey wanted to pay the price of admission, if only to see the Bearded Lady and her three legged dog, her two headed Siamese son and her fiery fire eating daughter. He bought his ticket from the barker and entered the tent of mildew and cigars..and headed straight for the land of the holymen and hookers on Hotel Street.
He hoofed along on Kalakau Street, beat and happy at the same time and enjoying his no cost, no charge, spare change "freedom" as it were, when a screeching of tires nudged him back to reality. It was the old beat cab with the old beat cabbie, Doc Yucatan. "Thought tha' was you boy, get in." Mickey lit up when he heard Doc's voice and saw that wonderful and weird yellow machine that passed for mass trans in the Hay-wian Islands. "Hey, Doc...goin' to Hotel Street. Can you take me there? Don't have any money left though so if thats a problem I'll understand." Doc's eyes got as big as the planet Jupiter. Hotel Street. "Boy, what you want tha' old part of town, anyway? Jes' pimps and drugs and sailors and hustlers is all. Why you want that?" He didn't have to think too long about it. The future held mysteries..mysteries he couldn't wait to unlock. He smiled though and thought to himself, "All that doesn't sound so bad. I'm a pirate now and pirates take pleasure in life, don't they?" The only thing he forgot was the fact that all those imaginary pirates aboard his ship of imagination that eventually were marooned on imaginary islands didn't really exist. He however was real, and really marooned, in paradise granted, but marooned he was in his own new reality. A pardox paradise.
The old cab grumbled along the ave as Doc steered the course to the booze and sex landfill known as "Hotel Street", a series of streets really with cheap bars, bar girls, massage parlors and whores in alleys. "Now, see boy, is that what you want? Don' think so, no. Mrs. K tol' me 'bout you running low on funds and had to leave and she felt real bad, but, business is business eh, kid?" Mickey nodded. How could he disagree with this agreeable character? "Won't be bad Doc. The place has plenty of beaches to sack out on at night and should be able to eat something everyday, don't know what, but something. I'm young, I'll get by"
The kid never had a growling, painful stomache a day in his life and Doc knew it. "Won' be that easy, but stay away from this here hotel area. Too many sailors jes' want'n to drink, fight and fuck. Dangerous she is." The cab wove back to the beach area by the Reef Hotel, right across the street from Mickeys small studio apartment that once protected him in it's 90 degree walled womb and Doc let him out. "Ok, kid, back where you started from, now don' go near no hotel street and keep away from the Beach of the Prince down the road. Got girly boys and tough girly boys want'n stuff. Stuff you don't want to know about, ok? No Prince Beach, hear?" Mickey nodded again as he jumped from the cab. "Got ya Doc and thanks for the tour. See you on the beach!" The cab roared off and left behind a kid with a cloud of exhaust and beach full of sand, now, his only possessions and they were fleeting.
He walked down the skinny walkway that divided the two large hotels as they do in Honolulu and emerged on the beach he was so familiar with. The scenery never changed, only the people populating it did. Weeklong vacationers seeking worship of the sun, tropical breezes, and maybe a little Polynesian romance. In addition to his affair with his landlady, he had managed to "date" the island visitors daughters, for a week or so at least. Life was good. How could it ever not be?
Today, the sun was out, cooler now in fall, but warm, Pacific caress warm to the skin, and the beach was ablaze with with a carnival of bikini's and enough flesh showing that danced in his head and make him spin like a whirling merry-go-round. He noticed a group of young kids, his age and younger running back and forth to an older Hawaiian kid holding royal court under a shade tree in front of the Reef Hotel. These kids would run in pairs to this Emperor of the Islands, hand him something, he'd write something down in a little notebook, they would nod affirmatively, and take off down the beach at high speed once again and return again and again like obidient yo-yo's on a short string. Curious, but interesting. What was he writing down? Names? Proverbs? Haikus? Who knew.
Soon the hungry sun of morning was spent and decided to rest below the horizon, wrapping the Hawaiian beach in a blanket of first, twilight, then dark, but in a gesture of kindness, hit the celestial pinata with a stick and out spilled an array of stars that landed in the sky and along with one half of a moon, the Cracker Jack prize at the bottom of the box, to cast gentle ghost light bouncing off rippling Pacific waves. Reality began to sink in as the sun was sunking west and Mickey came to a conclusion. He had absolutely no plan for the night. Sleep. Shelter. Food. Nada. The beach was cleansing itself of it's bevy of beauties who went into their hotels to swap clothing from the day for clothing for the night to enjoy the nightclubs, restaurants and savage distant drumbeat naughty nightscene of hot, hot, hot Honolulu.
Looking past the Reef he noticed Fort Derussy, the old army fort built in 1915 to protect the U.S. from foreign invaders from God knows what planet, yet probably more to have an excuse to house a visible military garrison to keep the local population in a continuous state of mind of colonial captivity and subservient tranquility. A missionary paradise of purity and plantations. As he looked he noticed a guard tower rising above the ground, a Trojan Horse waiting for invasion, and figured he could easily breach it, climb the steps to the lofty tower itself and sleep the sleep of old drunks on the wooden floor, unbothered, not yet bewitched, yet bewildered. He managed to follow this game plan and settled onto the floor of the phallic overlook. Once again he was a pirate, only a captain this time at the wheel overlooking the ocean, his command of men below swabbing decks and swearing and smelling as he suspected they all did. Soon he lay down and the gentle breezes lullabye'd him to sleep, drugged on the aphrodisiac of paradise and palm trees...when the bough breaks...until he was awakened by a blinding nuclear light flash that blinded him and gruff voices yelling, The guards...it was a guard tower afterall and there stood two of them as he leaped to his feet.
"What are you doing here? Get up, now" barked the taller of the two GI's. "Man, you can't sleep here, that's goddamn trespassin' so you got to go." said the shorter one. Then they both started laughing and shaking their heads as they escorted Mickey down from the tower and off the property and sent him marching on his way to wayward Waterloo.
3 AM and the sun wouldn't be creeping above the horizon anytime soon. He to hold out and had to find some place to sleep. Custers Last Stand, suicide stand, outnumbered by hordes of hostiles he went down without a plan either. Mickey hiked down the beach past the vacant outdoor dining patios of the hotels as he headed westward towards Diamond Head. He came upon a hotel construction site and right there in front of him stood a small portable concrete mixer, small, but enough for him so he decided it would do as a nest for the night until better outdoor accomodations could be found. It wasn't exactly the Waldorf and it wasn't exactly comfortable either. He crawled in to share space with metal cold to the touch, hardened cement crust and blades in the bottom and immediately crawled out and walked to Kalakau Street and headed further down towards Prince Beach. He knew the warning Doc had given him about gender transitions of some of the denizens but the only thing worse than a good looking woman who was actually a man, was a beat cop, and one was heading his way on a collision course with Mickey on the sidewalk from the opposite direction.
"What are you doing out here son,? he said in his police voice. Mickey knew he had to think quick, this prick probably thinks he's an underground revolutionary for the Freedom of the Hawaiian Islands Committee or something wanting to restore the kingdom, throne and install the Pineapple Princess as rightful ruler of the realm. "Well, I'm here with my parents and we've been here for two weeks but have to leave for Minnesota, home, tomorrow and I'm really gonna miss it here. They're sleeping right now and I couldn't and the hotel restaurant is closed so i just wanted to go for one last walk along the beach and maybe find a hamburger or something to eat. Gonna miss this place, real bad. Maybe, I'll come back someday but have to just enjoy whats left of my vacation,"..The cop smiled. Mickey thought, the fucking sonofabitch bought it! He couldn't believe it. "Well, now go down about five blocks and on the right is a place called Joe's of Waikiki and they're open 24 hours and have some of the best grub on the island. Just becareful out here now, and when you're done eating just go on back to the hotel before your parents wake up and find you gone."
Mickey hurried the few blocks, hunger hunkering down emitting a low growl and rumble spurring his quest for the immediate holy grail, a burger with fries and a coke. Money enough, barely, but that slab o' meat worth more to him than an ounce of gold right now, not that he could afford an ounce of gold. He ducked inside Joe's and grabbed an empty seat by the window on the street with flashing neon casting an eerie on-off-on again "Open" glow to beckon any passerby, of which there were none. The only other person there was an old man across the room staring at a cup of coffee in a lonely booth, reading his own fortune and future, of which there were neither. He ordered the burger and fries and sat in anticipation of the aerial bombardment of nutrition his stomache would soon experience and his stomach would satiate his hunger and expand his stomach like a birth control sponge absorbing little beasties of homicidal sperm racing like an army to the ovaries, the forward guard of the Impregnation Nation hell bent on visions of plunder and pillage of the Vaginal Village.
Suddenly, Joe's door opened and in quietly stepped a staggeringly gorgeous blond of obvious Hawaiian persuasion. Blondish hair, brownish skin tone, long of leg and large of breast who smiled at Mickey and motioned with a smile and nod and a flair and a flourish of hair if whe could join him. Thinking he had hit the Mother Lode of Polynesion Princesses nodded yes, yes, of course, please, sit, sit, dance, do whatever you want but don't go back out that door. She sat across from him and extended her hand. "I'm Kimmy," she said in very humble manner, still smiling at him. "I'm, Mickey," he managed to stutter and stammer back and shook her hand. It was a larger hand than most women have he thought but soft and smooth. They're just bigger here in the islands he thought and attributed it as something born of healthy island living and loving. "You're kind of young to be out this time of the night, and near Prince Beach aren't you? You're not one of those kids who hang out on the beach down at the other end near the hotels are you?" He shook his head vigorously so there was no question in her mind that No, he was not one of them, and as he didn't even know who they even were did not want to be associated with them in any manner as this Goddess may disappear and go back to Coconut Olympus with the other divinities who watch over mankind. "No, Ma'am don't even know them." She smiled and leaned towards him, "You're not a runaway now are you?" Again the vigorous shaking of the head but her commanding prescence called for honesty. "No, not exactly, i did leave home and my parents now know about it and where I am but had an apartment," he said proudly, "and then I ran out of money and this is my first night on the streets," he said more humbly, cancelling out the proudly to negative zero.
"Well it's not safe out here so tell you what, I do have a boyfriend but he's at the north end of the island until this afternoon. You come with me and get some sleep at my apartment, it's just around the corner and will fix you a great and wonderful breakfast when you wake up. Also get you cleaned up, take a shower and get your day started right later today so you can get your bearings, but, don't come down to this area late at night, ok?" He nodded again as his burger came and he remembered Doc's warnings about Prince Beach and Hotel Street and although something about Kimmy didn't seem quite midwest normal, he felt safe with her around so agreed. Finished his meal and Kimmy picked up the tab and led him out of Joe's and around the corner and into her small tiki filled apartment.
Tiki gods and goddesses adorned Kim's apartment unabashedly plentiful. There was Pele and her consorts, bronzed warriors and warriorettes, standing silently as the incense burner on the table lifted sandalwood offerings to hidden thrones in hidden month to month temples, utilities included, above the clouds and just a little left of visual reality. Mickey had never seen so much statuary in miniature before. A tiny, minuscule movie set straight out of a Jap Godzilla movie where nuclear plants wait to get wasted in order to feed the uranium hunger of the beast. Kim handed Mickey a bathrobe, a long man's kimono really, with lotus blossoms and intricate temples on it, peaceful art like zen, and then she went to brew tea while Mickey showered the kind of long lingering shower a gruff, filthy, leather faced Kansas cowboy craves after ridin' and ropin' and wranglin' and swearin' on the lone prairie with nothing but a harmonica, a can of Skoal and bellowing cattle to keep him company. The shower felt good, he stepped out, dried and put on the Confucian cloak. The incense scent was like a trail of Hansel and Gretel breadcrumbs leading him from the bathroom to the living room, now clean, and ready for mystical Tao, tea. & tiki's!
In later years, Mickey would hang up his Catholic frock of high mass and low mass to no mas, and explore Eastern philosophies to find one that would fit snugly, like a new pair of crotch hugging Levi's. He walked through the crowed marketplace where various religions were laid out on display, slabs of fresh theological meats in a farmers market of dieties. Old crippled women in bhurkas, old brown-faced men with wisdom carved into their faces and the kid from the midwest, squeezing philosophical tomatos for freshness and the firmness of believability. Only zen he felt, gave him more spiritual big bang for the buck.
In a split atom second it seemed, a yin-yang was about to be revealed in one hell of a shell shocked existential moment powered by it's own Newtonian momentum. Kim fixed both of them a cup of tea, in tiny Japanese teacups and sat down on the chair across from him. She spoke. "I don't know if you noticed or not, but I did notice that you keep looking strangely at me. Like something is out of sorts, off kilter, not quite right, right?" Mickey held his breath, throat and tongue got desert drought dry and of course, he lied. "Uh, no, not really." Kim laughed, "I know better so let me just put my cards on the table. I am a woman, but, also, I used to be a man. Played football at the University of Washington and moved here, back home, to work. The problem is I never felt comfortable as a man, and well, one thing led to another, and made some changes," she laughed, "Big changes!" Mickey did notice a sizable rack on her, him, it. Big indeed. "My voice is still in the lower range but will change eventually," laughed again, "And I still enjoy football and can get rowdy with the best of them and still out drink and out fuck anyone in the locker room." Now the adrenalin of fear began to flow quietly, a runaway kayak on the Colorado River doing number five rapids. Out fuck, he thought. Where the hell is this going? Great, I'm about to be devoured by a sexual carnivore. In a nuclear flash, he was projected onto the sci-fi screen, he was now in Patricia Neal's shoes facing Gort the Robot alone in "The Day the Earth Stood Still." The military helpless to stop him, Michael Rennie out cold. No, only three words could stop the madness of outer spaced out obliteration of the planet...Klatuu, Barada, Nicto!
Sensing sensory overload on the kid, Kim interjected the punctuated look of dread on his young face. "Now I'm not some damn Nelly queer you see hangin' out at Prince Beach and quite frankly that's why you're here. I saw you walk into the restaurant and you looked scared and lost, like I was when I was confused about who I am, or rather was. I saw that same fear and loneliness and you were too close to the edge by that damn beach, no telling what could happen there. So, that's why I wanted to meet you and see if you were a stray and didn't stray into the wrong area, or hands. I have a boyfriend who treats me well and that's that, and I hope it answers any unanswered questions you have. Has it?" Relief sighed and the color once drained returned to his face, the drought ended and the waves of fear subsided to placid calm. It was yin-yang, the duality of life, the taijitu filled with summer and winter, and other neo-Confucian confusion, only this one was Dr. Gender Jekyll and Mrs. Hyde. "I appreciate you telling me that, and yeah, I got scared for a little bit." He sipped his tea, looked at her/him and let out a sincere, "Thanks. No, I really mean that. Wow, Doc told me about that beach and thought it was just Doc ramblin'." At least it was all explained and out in the open and he could let down his guard. Damn, he thought. Mrs. Kuramoto and Doc watching out for him and now a bent gender trans angel of mercy. He felt more protected out on his own at 15 then he ever did back in what he referred to now as "that other world."
They both laughed and talked in high speed animation until the sun began it's rise to prominence over the domain of the day, and she told him he better get a little bit of sleep, and then some breakfast when he wakes up to give him a full tank of fuel to face the day, his first real day as a son of a beach! He fell asleep, feeling strangely safe and guarded by a guardian angel with opaque wings, one the yin, the other the yang. Mickey began to drift off to sleep and hoped, honestly, that he hadn't offended her, him, what the hell was it? He knew however that he had acted as a perfect gentleman, as he was taught, because she was a lady after all. As he drifted off to sleep he was cradled in the imaginary arms of Patricia Neal, who sang him a strange lullabye to rock him to sleep...she repeated the same words over and over again as he drifted off. Klattu, Barada, Nicto!
