After a difficult month belly dancing at an Arabic nightclub in Mexico City, my best friend, Kim, flew down to rescue me. We hopped a bus for twelve hours to Palenque in the Chiapas Rainforest. We climbed and marveled at the incredible ruins, the stones crumbling and covered in moss, and made up stories about the people who had lived there so long ago. My mother is Mexican, and she always told me that my great grandmother was a Mayan Indian Princess, so I pretended I was secret royalty visiting my lost kingdom. We made our way over to a waterfall called The Queen’s Bath. There were a few local families taking photos, and Kim and I stood off to the side to try to discreetly change into our swimsuits. Kim bent over in such a way that she was able to slip on her suit without anyone noticing. I followed her lead, and in my usual Inspector Clouseau bumbling way, I bent over facing the wrong direction and mooned everyone at the waterfall. Making matters worse, Kim screamed at my exposed behind, which made me jump, flashing even more people, as I flattened myself to the ground trying to wiggle into my suit as fast as possible, while Kim held up her shirt as a curtain and howled with laughter next to me.
We sat next to each other for a while under a giant palm leaf, recovering, until everyone was gone but us. We waded into the cold and gorgeous water, wrapping our arms around each other for warmth. We had been told the waterfall got its name because the ancient queens used to bathe here, but I thought of another reason: I have never felt more like a queen than swimming in a waterfall in a jungle surrounded by ancient stones with my twin soul, who put her arms around me when I was cold, dissolved my troubles with her deep laughter, and covered me when I was falling apart. Kim passed away two years ago, and I hope wherever she is, she is swimming in a waterfall and feeling like a queen.
