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December 28, 2004

I Went to My Parents' House - Day One

Like much of America I visted my parents for Christmas. The trip went as expected: the plane took off on time and landed in one piece, I braved the near-zero Chicago winter to get myself to the train station, the train took me to my destination, and on arrival my parents were nowhere to be found.
I stood in the sub-zero Wisconsin night and I think was propositioned by a middle-aged woman. "Do you need a ride?"
"No, thanks. I have a ride coming."
"Where are you going?"
"Delavan."
"I'll take you there." It was over thirty miles from the train station.
"No, thanks. My parents are coming -- I think -- and they'd be a little freaked out it I wasn't here."
"Come one and sit in the car with me for a little while." Rubbing the seat next to her.
"I'll be ok. Thanks."
"Just for a little while?"

I finally got to my parents' house and they put me up in a spare bedroom. "There's another blanket at the foot of the bed if you get cold."
Why would I get cold? I thought. I rarely turn the heat on in my house. But I found I would get cold because my parents have decided that, despite the sub-zero outside, the heat will be shut off at 10pm.
I woke up in the middle of the night freezing cold. I was shivering, my teeth were chattering. I grabbed the extra blanket and tried to fall asleep. I waited for the for the blanket to do its job - to feel even the slightest bit warmer. I lay in bed curled in a ball trying to reduce surface area and heatloss. After about a half hour of that I decided it was time to find yet another blanket. I ran around the frozen house searching closets for another blanket.
When I finally found one what I found was not a simple little blanket like the three I had on the bed already but a regular comforter hidden in the closet of their other spare bedroom. Even though they knew the house dipped below freezing in the night they gave me only flimsy blankets and hid the warmer comforter in the spare closet.

I woke up hungry. I had worked up a hunger with the shivering during the night - the shivering necessary for me to survive. I went to the fridge. Even though there are only two people in the house it was completely full - there was not a square inch of free space. The fridge was packed with leftovers, hot sauces, moldy limes (or maybe they were lemons before they were covered with green mold), and nearly three dozen cups of yogurt. "Why do you have so much yogurt, mom?"
"We buy it when it's on sale."
I pulled one out but put it back when I saw the expiration date of 04 Oct (rumor has it the yogurt that expired in June is at the back of the fridge and I was pulling out the newer stuff). "This stuff is expired."
"Oh, Brian, yogurt never goes bad."
I opted for some eggs, as their expiration date was just less than a month prior - 27 Nov 2004. I cooked myself an omlet. I was rushed through eating it because my parents were in a rush to start their Christmas shopping. They had to do it Thursday because people were coming over Friday for Christmas Eve.
On the way to the store I found out what happens to people when they eat expired eggs. "Hurry up! I have to use the bathroom."

We rounded out our shopping day with a trip to the mall. There were two stores side by side with names that seemed to fit my parents and they split up. My mom went into Indian Treasures while my dad went into Milwaukee PC. My dad called to me from inside the computer store. "Look at this stuff." He wanted to point out the high prices and how ridiculous some of the products were - neon underlighting for your PC box, a box shaped like a cobra, etc. My mom's trip to Indian Treasures was fairly short, as it turned out to be a head shop. She poked her head inside the PC store and said she'd wait for us outside.
When we left the store a couple minutes later she was nowhere to be found. "Your mother always does this. 'I'll be in the hall.' We'll never find her." We walked throught the mall. "Ask them if they've seen a crazy lady in a long coat. They're about your age."
"Dad. Those girls are, like, 14."
"They're more malleable at that age."
"Whatever, dad."
"You like that one?" He pointed out a woman in her 40s. Granted she was attractive for a woman in her 40s, but she was still in her 40s. "Now that's a little too old."
"That'd be quite something for a guy my age. She'd be a hot young chic. It'd be braggable."

Luckily the sight of Salvation Army bell ringer dressed as a Klingon (or some goofy-ass Star Trek race) changed the subject. "This time of year brings out all the freaks. Look at him."

We walked through the mall looking for my misplaced mother and came across a store selling fantasy swords. One handle adorn with a skull attached to three blades, A dagger, something to strap onto your hand so you can have claws like Wolverine and some other "weapons" sat in the window. My dad and I laughed together wondering out loud about the sanity of people that spend money on things of that sort. Just then my mom flew by us in her usual frantic way. "Come on in here guys. I want to show you something. This stuff is just so cool."
It wasn't the swords she wanted to point out to us, but the light up, moving water pictures along the back wall. "Look. Aren't these just so cool?"
"Mom, haven't you ever seen these before? They've been selling them in malls for years."
"Oh, I've never seen them before. I think they're cool." I turned around and she was gone again.
"Where the hell did your mother go now?"
We looked around for her a bit before we decided to leave. As we did we passed a guy trying to test out a sword. "Here's my ID. See? 21." The guy behind the counter pulled out a sword-type thing and handed it over to the 21-year-old. He held it in one hand, his arm outstretched, one eye closed; he moved it up and down, eyeing something. It looked like a meat clever to me; a little longer and little thinner, but very much like your basic meat clever.
"You have to be 21 to hold a meat clever but you can buy a gun at 18?" My dad said in a disgusted voice loud enough for both the sword connoisseur and salesman to hear. I noticed a dirty look coming from the salesman as we walked by giggling at the impracticle, obscenely exprensive "weaponry" in the show cases. "Look, brass knuckles with a switchblade souldered on."
There were several different styles of the "wolverine" glove. You could choose from 3 or 4 blades.
"Dad. Look at the saleman giving you those dirty looks. That thing about the meat clever must have pissed him off."
"I don't fucking care."
Right about then the saleman showed up and in a disgusted voice said, "Do either of you have any questions?"
"Yes. I have one." said my dad. "Who the hell buys this shit?"
"I for one." He huffed as he marched off.

That amused me enough to keep on with the shopping for several more minutes.

Posted by calculatoronfire at December 28, 2004 12:09 PM

Comments

OMG, we have the same mother! As I write this there are no less than 6 dozen eggs sitting in the fridge. Why? Cause they're 39 cents a dozen. And my parents don't really even eat eggs! They'll usually use that egg beater stuff.

We're brothers!

Posted by: tuesdayscoming at January 3, 2005 01:29 PM

Brother!
A long lost brother?
My life this year is super cool so far. Like movie cool. That's how super cool it is.
I've met a one eyed giant, found my long lost (maternal only, I believe) brother...
Wait. that's it. Not really enough for a movie. Unless it's foreign. Maybe a French movie. They always stretch out one good plot point. With lots of scenes of people hung over lying in bed all day paying for every hour of new year's partying with two in bed only crawling out to eat omlets.

Posted by: brian at January 4, 2005 12:59 PM