Tag Archives: Embarrassing

Crazie T and the Whale

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If you need to catch up on my Crazie Camper Caper, click here and here.

Where we left off…I’d been in contact with Anonymous Kevin, the person hired to deliver my 1955 Aljoa from Denver to Kansas City, and arranged to have him arrive on Saturday, the 6th.  Unfortunately, I would still be out of town but my good friend, Sharon, agreed to meet him at my house to take possession.

During my time in New York, Anonymous Kevin sent several emails updating me on all the work he was doing on the camper.  “Repaired broken taillight.” his text read.  “Saw that camper came with trailer brakes so hooked those up for you,”  was the next.  And finally, “Hooked up the electrical so the camper battery will recharge while you’re driving down the road.”

This last one came in while I was at dinner with some friends.  Although Anonymous Kevin had offered to deliver the camper to me for free because of all the problems, these friends became his champions and begged me to pay him.  “Look how sweet he is,” Kelly said.  Followed by my friend Hunter asking,”I wonder if he’s single?”

All the way home from the airport I anxiously awaited seeing my tiny little retro camper that I remembered looked like this.

Only, when I drove in the driveway it looked like this.

Somewhere in the month that it had been gone, it changed colors and grew about 30 feet!  I closed my eyes until I made into the garage and then pulled the curtains so I wouldn’t have to look at it.  What was I thinking?  I can’t handle that!

The next morning I opened the curtains and I swear, the whale had grown another 20 feet.  I closed the curtains and avoided the front of the house entirely.  In the early evening, I stepped out to the get the mail and noticed that although the monster loomed large, it seemed a little less intimdating.  Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad.  I retrieved the keys and walked over to take a look inside the whale.

Remember, how I bought the thing in less than 20 minutes?  Turns out deciding that catching my return flight home was more important than say, looking it over, was not such a brilliant choice.  If I’d taken my time, maybe I would have seen that the top of the door curved in a perfect way to catch rain as it was going down the road.  Or maybe I would have discovered that the sink not only wasn’t plumbed, but wasn’t even attached to the counter.  Or I could have taken a moment to realize that the lights in the bedroom area had their on/off switches broken off and were hanging by their original threadbare wires.  Or better still, I could have looked underneath the whale to discover the two giant holes, allowing access for any size critter to join me on my camping trip.

Sunday, I pulled on my Grown Ass Woman suit and drove it to the repair shop where I walked away with a four page punch list.

This whole adventure reminds me of what happens when, during a mid-life crisis, a husband leaves his wife for a sweet young thing.  The new girl seems so sparkly and energetic, but after a while you see that she’s more worn out than you realized and she takes a lot of money to maintain.

RULES FOR THE NOVICE SUBWAY RIDER

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My brother, Larry, and I were taking the long subway ride home to Manhattan from Queens when I realized, there should be a list of rules for novice subway riders.

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Larry and I jump on the train and, after standing for a stop or two, manage to squeeze into two seats in the middle of the car.  Immediately my eyes begin their midwestern trait of looking around.  This is not, as my brother has told me many times, a good idea.

I look directly across from me, where I discover the most impressive Dolly Parton breasts I’ve ever seen.  I stare (much longer than appropriate) at the woman’s massive cleavage and eventually raise my gaze to her, quite angry, face.

Blushing, I shift my eyes to the left, toward a young man playing an accordion.  I then break the one unwritten rule I’m aware of: Do not make eye contact.  Beads of sweat break out on my forehead as I realize he is headed my way, ready for a private serenade.

Whipping my head to the right, I focus in on a pile of filthy rags resting on a bench seat, entirely free of any passengers.  The rags are moving back and forth, rhythmically and I realize it is a man.  My eyes focus in on the Picasso-esque structure as I try to sort it out.  There’s his leg, his arm, but where’s his hand?  ACK!  I realize the rhythm of his movements coincide with an exercise my mother said was certain to make me go blind.  Involuntarily my eyes meet his and he grins.

Sweating and blushing, I scrutinize the ceiling of the train, where I read each and every advertisement, attempting to polish up my Spanish by comparing it to the English language advertisement beside it.

I breathe easier now, knowing I’ve figured out the correct subway stare.   My gaze leaps from the signage on one side of the door to the other and lands on a smile so bright I have to blink to keep from being hypnotized.

The handsome young man, who obviously stepped right out of an Abercrombie and Fitch ad, expands his smile and nods his head.  I feel like we’ve made a connection and we’re quietly laughing at all the kooky people on the subway.

At the next stop he lets go of the overhead bar and walks my way.  Mesmerized by his teeth, I flash him a smile which quickly turns into a frown as he moves one step past me, to talk to my brother, Larry.

I spend the rest of the trip staring at my shoes wondering if I’ll need to polish them before I go home, and compiling a list of rules for a novice subway rider.

Rules for the Novice Subway Rider.

  1. Step onto train and grab pole in middle of car (ignoring your OCD instinct to imagine how many other sweaty palms have been there before you.)
  2. Do not yet sit down.
  3. Quickly, without letting your gaze linger, size up the members of the group you will be riding with.
  4. Scope out the people collecting their things, making ready to leave at the next stop, then check out the people on either side of them to look for signs of Crazie.
  5. Slide into empty seat and immediately (IMMEDIATELY, I SAID) stare directly at your feet.  Avoid letting your gaze wander past the tips of your shoes.
  6. Never ride the subway sitting next to your cute brother.

And, here’s a rule that pretty much applies anywhere in life.

If you see a pile of Picasso-esque brown rags – move in the opposite direction, before you go blind.

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On the right side of this page is a picture of my new book.  Click on it, and then, maybe buy it?  I’m trying to earn enough money to taxis the next time I’m in New York.