I’ve written before about having the “Tell Me” sign attached to my forehead and I apologize for revisiting this topic but after a few incidents this weekend, I believe the occasional verbal vomit story can be revisited.
As I mentioned I was hit with a pretty nasty case of the stomach flu...well, I am not sure I mentioned I had accidentally shared this incredible gift with my father who was visiting from Washington, DC. He came over on Saturday for a day of family, football and food…what I do best and left with a gift that just kept giving. He couldn’t leave his hotel room for 2 days…one of which was the day my stepmother was arriving from DC for our big mountain family Thanksgiving. Uh oh…
I had just picked the kids up from school and we were headed to our favorite little service corner where we could get lunch, my son could get a hair cut and my daughter and I much needed mani/pedis when my phone rang. The caller ID showed it was my SM, and I knew she was worried about my dad and traveling across the country during one of the busiest travel weeks so I answered.
“I’m stuck in DC, trying to get to Minnesota but I’m going to miss my connecting flight and then I am going to end up sitting in a middle seat in coach, surrounded by amateur fliers and their screaming kids, I think I’ll just get off the plane now. Your dad needs to go to the emergency room and I can’t get there. I am going to just fly to Minnesota and then turn around and come home….” For a good two minutes this went on before I could even say a word. The kids were both trying to figure out who I was talking (or not talking to) while I was trying to figure out the appropriate course of action…while trying to talk her off the proverbial ledge…to the delight of her flight crew and fellow passengers I am sure.
After assurances that I had, indeed, made sure crackers and soda had been delivered to my dad’s hotel room and reminders that planes were flying to CA all day so she’d get here, her flight was boarded and she made her connecting flight okay. She called the next day and asked me to delete the earlier day as she was not herself. I told her no problem but next time, double the Xanax dosage.
Crisis averted, we got settled in our comfy pedicure chairs ready to forget our troubles. However it seemed the relaxation gods were not smiling on us that day as there was obviously some sort of salon drama playing out in front of us. The manager of the salon who was working with me at the time, kept apologizing for needing a couple of minutes and then she’d walk away to have a very loud heated conversation with one of the girls and then would come back all flustered. After the last break she just let it flow “One of my girls want to quit. Sometimes people misunderstand one another and it turn into a big deal”…at which point one of the girls sighs loudly while unpacking the big white bag of personal belongings she had been throwing into the bag during the flow up. My manicurist then went on to tell me about her husband who she married 3 years ago and who has been out of work since…All I could think was I am paying for this pleasure.
So, I am now 6 pounds lighter with great toes and fingers but with an ulcer the size of Texas….Great!
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