1989 : When A Vacation Was Born

Wendy Flores. She was the neighborhood girl I envied as she walked to school everyday in her Catholic school uniform and oxford shoes. Light brown hair, green eyes, and olive skin, Wendy looked like the actresses in the spanish novelas her mom watched on t.v. late at night. She painted her nails bright red, was the first to wear a bra, and her older brother was the neighborhood jokester, often standing with his back to the window with his arms wrapped around his back like he was making out with someone. Mario never had luck with girls.

After disappearing for a couple weeks, Wendy reappeared on our block in 1989 with a deep tan, her hair all tied back with tiny braids, sipping a Corona beer. In her left hand she played with a lime she occasionally sucked on in between tiny sips of beer. This is what all the kids do in Cancun, Wendy said as she easily slurped from the can, leaving a light trace of bubbles on her new braces. But she said it like Khan-Kune, which made me think of a far off Asian island, not Mexico.

Wendy went on a vacation. This idea–leaving your home for sometime to enjoy and, well, vacate–was entirely new to me. Nobody on our block had gone on vacation, so the concept was as foreign as a far off Asian island. Khan-Kune.

I distinctly remember experiencing a pang of jealousy. All these years later, and I remember that conversation like it was yesterday. Red nails included. Wendy went on a vacation in 1989 and that was the same year I promised myself to one day go on vacation too. Many years later, I'm proud to say I know the meaning of a vacation. To leave everything behind and simply be. JD, Polo, and I snuck away for the past four days and it was the perfect way to ring in the New Year.

Happy First Monday of 2011!