Member-only story
They feel free and call it wisdom.
You leave the party. You’re the wet blanket, the one who reminded the group of dancing, sweaty bodies that Covid-19 was real. You slink away and refuse to hug anyone. The locals working in the restaurant wear masks. There is fear in their eyes, but they need the money. They hate the tourists — You speak Spanish and you can hear them. Your family is from this country, but you’re American. You feel like a traitor and a fraud...a traitor to your heritage, and a fraud among white Americans.
You feel like you have to go.
You walk back to your hotel room alone. You can’t wait to be back in your family’s house in a small farm town in a local village. You didn’t think the beach would be this bad. You’re a little afraid. You long for home. Your childhood room.
You can breathe there. You can sleep with a blanket. You can go days, weeks, without drinking or smoking pot, and no one will question you.
The beach towns are so hot that your laptop breaks. You get another one and pay $400 more than you would back home, but you need it to work.
You wonder about the beach town. They feel so free, the Americans there. They seem to feel just fine about everything. It does seem nice. Are they really wiser than you, or are they just in denial? Will one of them see someone gasping for air and change their…
