Mecca-Lekka Hi Mecca Hiney Ho

The phone rang and rang. After seventeen rings, I began to feel like he was never going to answer.

"Dammit Honey! Pick up the phone!" I cursed to myself.

Finally, his machine picked up.

"Hey, you've reached Joey Honey. I'll be out of the country for the next three weeks on a pilgrimage. Please leave a message."

The machine beeped.

"Joey, listen, I don't know when you'll be back, but I need some advice. Where the heck are you?"

I hung up and sighed. I played some online poker to help relax me for awhile, and suddenly I had an idea. I picked up the phone again. She picked up on the first ring.

"Joey!"

"Uh, no. Helen?"

"Oh, hello Zane."

Helen didn't really care for me. I don't think she exactly blamed me for their breakup, but I doubt she thinks I did him any good.

"Helen, this is important, where's Joey?"

"He's on a pilgrimage, didn't you listen to his message?"

"A pilgrimage to where?"

"Mecca. All of them are supposed to go at least once."

Damn, I thought. How am I going to get to Saudi Arabia?

"Wait a minute," I started, "Mecca? I thought he was Catholic!"

I could hear her eyes roll over the phone.

"He is. He's going to the Mecca of Cathoicism--the North Pole. Now's the most popular time of year for it. He's going to try and catch Santa before he leaves."

Man, those Catholics have some crazy traditions.

I thanked her and hung up the phone.

I considered my options. I could either wait until he came back, make my way up there (hopefully they would let me in to the North Pole, since I'm not a Catholic. Maybe I'd have to fake it--I would have to buy a phony rosary to wear or something.), or possibly come up with a crazy scheme to kidnap Santa in order for Honey to have to find me. I decided to just make the flight.

I landed at the North Pole on December 24th in the early afternoon. Let me tell you, if you ever consider visiting the North Pole, or are a Catholic who intends on making his pilgrimage: just wait until June or something, because it's a total madhouse this time of year. People all over the place, all the hotels were full, tourists constantly asking each other where the actual pole was, so they could kiss it.

"It's not a Blarney Stone," I muttered to one of them.

The next day, I was beginning to feel like the entire trip was being made for no reason. I would never find him. I stopped into Loaves, Fishes, and Vino, a local Catholic bar, and ordered a bread 'n' fish platter and a large blood of Christ.

I enjoyed my meal for awhile, and tried to put myself in Honey's shoes. I even brought out and began reading an incredibly dense German novel so I would gain some insight into the way his mind worked. It was warm and homey inside the bar, kind of like a warm and homey cathedral.

After reading two and a half pages, I fell asleep at my corner booth.

When I came to, I hardly remembered where I was, and my mind was cloudy from the booze. The first thing I saw was a whiskey on the rocks with a little cross for a swizzle stick, and a small plate with eucharist and cheese.

Then I saw him. He was munching on his meal and leafing through the German novel I'd brought.

"This is a good one," he finally said, "but Swann's Way is way better. You should read that."

"What the heck are you doing here?" I asked him. "How did you know to find me?"

"I didn't," he replied. "I've been coming here every afternoon since I've been here. They've got good Irish whiskey."

"Not from Northern Ireland, I hope."

"I wouldn't drink their Protestant swill if it was the only whiskey left in the world," he said angrily. He paused. "What are you doing here?"

Finally. "I need your advice," I said. "It's about a girl."

He chuckled to himself and stroked his beard. I was surprised, because I didn't think he could grow a beard.

"I'm dating this girl, right? And things are going pretty well. But the only thing is, well, she celebrates Kwanzaa."

"She's black?"

"No," I said.

"Okaaaaay," Honey stroked his beard some more. "So you want her to celebrate Christmas instead."

"No! She wants me to celebrate Kwanzaa! But I just don't get it--she's not black, I'm not black, and I already celebrate Christmas!"

"Why is it so important to her that you celebrate Kwanzaa?"

"She said something about subverting the dominant culture, challenging the white man's hold on authority in the US, and the celebration of principles."

"And this is really a make it or break it issue with her?"

"Well, she understands that she can't make me dress up in traditional African dress and light the Kwanzaa candles, since I already celebrated Christmas when we met. But her words are 'You don't have to celebrate Kwanzaa, but my husband does, you know what I'm sayin'?' "

"So it's either convert to Kwanzaa or break up with this girl."

"I think so."

"Is she cool?"

"She's really cool."

He stroked his beard a bit more.

"Let me ask you this: would you ever, ever convert to Kwanzaa on your own, without her being there? Did you just need someone to come along and help you make the transition? Do you have any interest in it at all as a holiday?"

"No," I sighed. "I think it's kind of stupid. I mean, it was invented in the 60s by a political activist! It has no real African tradition involved in it! I mean, what kind of genesis is that?"

"I see what you're saying," he said, sipping his whiskey. "And here's the advice I'll give you: if this is important enough for her to give you that kind of ultimatum, and in converting you would only be doing it for her, and not for yourself, then you have to end it.

"Think about this. If you do convert and you stay together, you'll resent her every year around holiday time when you're not out buying a Christmas tree. You won't be really happy with it, and you won't be happy with her.

"And not just in this situation specifically. If you're with someone, and an important dividing issue comes up--religion, politics, sex--or my situation with Helen, for example--whether or not Santa Claus is Jesus' brother or not--you have to decide if

1) it's something you can overlook and adapt to.
2) if it isn't, if it's something you might be interested in at all if it weren't for that person.
3) if it isn't, you've looked into it enough and decided that it's something that you dislike enough to end a relationship with that person."

"So for me, it would be important that a girl have an over-the-top sex drive and a fetish for erotic celebrity fan fiction?"

"Exactly."

I thanked him, and getting up, asked him if he wanted to catch a flight back to the US with me.

"No, I can't leave quite yet. I've got an appointment this afternoon to meet with Santa Claus at the mall."

"Gonna get your picture taken?"

"Yeah--oh, and that reminds me, do you want to take the rest of this eucharist home with you for a snack? I don't want to fill up on it before I receive mine from Jesus' brother."

At the airport, I had to select from either the 10:15, the 10:30, or the 10:50 flight from the North Pole to Texas. I took the 10:15, and I hoped I could still make it in time to open my presents with my family.