Well I am back from the hinterland and meeting Sug's parents. His Dad liked me so much that he gave me a very intimate gift: a bitch of a summer cold that has kicked my ass completely to bed for the past three days.
Thanks Dad. So, the following is written through a haze of a Sudafed and Nyquil cocktail. Good luck making sense of it all.
THE COMMENCEMENT - OR WHY I PLAN TO COME BACK AS A BILLIONAIRE WHO DOESN'T HAVE TO TAKE GENERAL TRANSPORTATION IN MY NEXT LIFE
My trip started off well enough. I went to play trivia and get appropriately faded the night before my flight was to leave. My flight was scheduled for take-off at 6:00 am. So I naturally thought that staying out until 11:00 chugging brews would be fine. That would leave me over four hours to get organized, pack, catch 40 winks, shower, dress, pick up some early morning Micky Dees, go by the ATM and get to the airport. Right?
Well, it was enough time to pack, shower and dress. I made it to the airport just in the nick of time, waltzing through security and right onto the plane. I took my seat next to "Manny" from Maui. He flew in for a day. Remember, I am on the Atlantic. He flew in for a day. And was going back. Um, isn't that like 12 hours of actual flying? Manny was apparently a regular passenger on the crazytrain. Cool guy though - Ma halo Manny.
As all flights from the Southeast do, I had to pass through a Southern Hub to make a connection to Phoenix. Let me just note here, that I was astute enough to check out my connection times and on-time arrival statistics in advance and prepared accordingly by wearing my running shoes. I know from past experience, that flying through Phoenix from anywhere to anywhere else guarantees a late landing and a three mile run from gate-to-gate while hurdling the stray luggage and small children littering your path.
As my Phoenix flight was landing minutes before my connection was scheduled to take off, I moved to the front of the plane so I could start the track and field portion of my travel day as soon as the start gun sounded. I located a girl sprawled out across three seats two rows from the bulkhead. I asked if anyone was sitting in the aisle seat. She looked at me with that dear in headlights look. It was evident that she didn't want to give up the seat, but was struggling to think.
She said "My friend is sitting in that seat but has gotten up to take a walk to the bathroom."
"Okay, what about the middle seat, then, anyone sitting there?" I queeried.
"Yes," replied the seat hog.
"Who?" I asked. "And where are they?"
"The same girl," she said as she lowered her eyes and began to blush red.
I countered firmly, "So, what you are telling me then - if I understand - is that one of these seats is indeed free. Isn't that right?" She nodded her head affirmatively. "That is what I thought. So, do you want your friend in the middle or on the end, because I am taking one of these seats."
Without another word, the feeble-minded seat hog drug her friend's stuff to the middle seat and I shoved my briefcase under the aisle seat in front of me. The friend arrived back at the row just at that time. I got up and smiled, stuck my hand out and introduced myself, saying that I would be joining them for the last 15 minutes of the flight.
After we were reseated, the friend and I began talking. The hog glared at me trying to burn holes in my head. The stare became really intense as her "friend" began rubbing my thigh. Oh yeah! I would have been in line for a little girl action if I had just moved up to the front earlier. Oh well, I'm sure my rowmate just wanted to make her girlfriend jealous as they were going on vacation together and were obviously having some difficulties in their relationship.
And finally we landed. With the aid of the attendant, I was off the flight in a matter of seconds and began my run. The lack of sleep and food was catching up with me as I struggled to maintain the hold on my laptop and briefcase as I ran. I ran fast enough this time, though, that I didn't have to hear my name being repeatedly called on the P.A. system. I was the last passenger to be seated - in the last row of the airplane.
As I collapsed into my unreclining seat, whining silently over the fact that I had been up for over 36 hours and had not had a bite to eat, I overheard a flight attendant notifying the woman in the aisle seat of the other portion of the row that she needed to "come get him, he can't be back here." I turned around to see the stewardess reach down and grab a little arm. I expected to see a seven or eight year old - someone old enough to go potty by themselves - at the other end of the little arm. Instead, I behold an 18 - 20 month old toddler that was being allowed to run loose in the galley.
The mother snatched the kid from the stewardess and held him tightly on her lap. The toddler began screaming and fighting, repeatedly kicking the back of the seat infront of him. All the while, the mother kept telling the child, "Don't be mad at me! Be mad at the lady! She's the one making you stay here!" I shot the stewardess a distressed glance that clearly shouted, "M'aidez! M'aidez!" The stewardess disappeared and returned shortly to advise the woman that she had an open row available in the front of the plane (that's 26 delicious sound-absorbing rows away.) The woman said "no, we will stay here." No sooner were the words out of her mouth then mine opened and shouted, "I'll transfer!" Without waiting for an answer, I jumped up and sprinted toward the front of the plane. The guy in the seat being routinely kicked raised his voice too and shuffled to join me at the bulkhead.
I stuck my Sansa headphones in and settled back to listen to the 3.5 days of music I have programmed. The 4.5 hour flight wasn't bad, I was just terribly exhausted by the time we landed. No sleep or food in over 40 hours, and I had yet to wait in the hour long line to clear customs.
Once at the customs portal, I was detained for some unusually in-depth questioning. I was too tired to appear deceptive as they questioned me about my previous trips to the country and the nature of my business there. As they asked me about all the cities in the country I have visitied, I babbled not only about where I'd been, but where I wanted to go. I also asked for a stamp on my passport. I rattled on about how most countries just scan your passport now and how I miss the days of the stamps filling my passport pages. The customs agents glanced at each other as if to say "Let's get this fruitcake out of here," stamped my passport and sent me on my way.
POOR SUG - LITTLE DID HE KNOW
Sug met me outside the airport and I practically collapsed as I shoved my baggage at him. He obliged and took my luggage, oblivious to the storm brewing in my head and my belly. We went to the hotel I had arranged for and checked in. The hotel had upgraded us from a regular suite to a delux suite. We had our own little courtyard in addition to two rooms.
By the time we got to our room, another hour had passed and I was blind with hunger and angry from lack of sleep. I made it known that I needed something to eat immediately. We spent 15 minutes trying to locate the room service menu. Once located, the menu was quickly nixed by Sug, who said it didn't look that good to him. This almost enraged me as I was to the point of being willing to gnaw off my own toes to fill my stomach. He suggested hamburgers, wings, pizza, etc. Some sick twisted portion of my brain reminded me that I am careful about consuming junk food these days and routinely avoid it. Dutifully, I dismissed the suggestions claiming they were too high in fat and calories and overall "too greasy."
Sug then suggested a salad which suggestion triggerred the really hungry portion of my brain to force my mouth to shout, "No! I'm really really hungry! Lettuce won't help! Dammit! I need food! I need you to step up, be a man and take care of this situation! I don't often need help, but I need you to take care of this now! Step up and be a man and take care of it now!!! "
Sug looked at the demon possessed woman in front of him and weighed the prudence of picking up his bag and walking out on me. Instead, he struggled to remain calm and quietly replied, "Let me see if I understand. You want food, nothing too greasy or unhealthy, but not anything healthy like salad."
"Yes, I said - anything, anything, anything! I don't even care anymore!"
He picked up his wallet and headed for the door. "Oh," I shouted, "and get beer! We need beer!" With a deep breath he left. I wasn't sure he was coming back.
He did come back, with burgers. I was happy to see to see they weren't too greasy and in twenty minutes I was human again. Half an hour later, I made my appreciation for his hunting and foraging known. Then I slept. Like a log.
MEET THE FOCKERS
After a good night's sleep, some breakfast and a walk around town, Sug and I reclined by the pool and relaxed, preparing for the big meeting of the parents dinner to occur later that night. At about 4:00, we began to get ready to go to dinner.
The first meeting was relatively uneventful. It happened on the neutral ground of a packed and casual restaurant on a Friday night.
Let me just pause this story before I really get started and tell you: I looked fucking fantastic! No, really. My freshly dyed-dark and finally grown-out hair looked more fabulous than it ever has. The hair gods smiled on me and gave me the perfect sexy do for a day. Farah could not have done it better.
I had also road tested my tres chiq and very "now" outfit the week before, so I knew it would hold up. I wore long straight-leg pin-striped black pants and stilleto heels with a gauzy burnt peach, plunging v-neck babydoll top buttoned under a really cute black short jacket with awesome stitching and back tie details. Everything was the right proportion and the fabrics worked surprisingly well together. Simple oversized gold hoop earingings finished off the look.
My skin was miraculously clear and newly tinted by a day on the beach and a few hours at the pool. I must say - I looked sophisticated, smart and sexy. Yeah, it was pretty hot. And let me also note - this is the one and only time everything has come together for me on an "occassion."
Although I was feeling good about my exterior presentation, I was still so very, very nervous. Who wouldn't be nervous meeting the parents of a lover a decade-and-a-half their junior? I was so nervous that I felt like I would pass out at times. Sug and I had a good half-hour ride to the restaurant and we could only manage tittering small talk. Our palms got a little sweaty as we held hands in the car. That has never happened before.
We had role-played to practice difficult questions earlier in the day, so we were as prepared as we were going to be.
And so we arrived and climbed three sets of stairs to get to the platform holding the table. I did my best to remember to breathe as we approached the table. The parents were already there waiting. Neither stood as we approached the table, which struck me as odd and made me momentarily worry. Instead of focusing on the awkward angle, I smiled and reached my hand out and shook hands across the table before I took my seat.
His parents were much smaller than I anticipated. Sug is so tall that I was surprised by the relatively short stature of his parents. I don't remember much striking about the conversation during that first meeting except that there were NO personal questions of any sort asked. Nothing. Instead, we talked about boat traffic on the water behind us, birds of the area, how much the city has grown in the last ten years, etc. Absolutely no questions were asked of me at all.
Sug's mother, dressed in a lilac summer shift dress with nails painted to match, directed the conversation entirely. Sug's father occassionally peppered my responses to the mother's comments with little orphan punchlines. Sug managed a smile every once and a while and hardly said a word.
I am usually pretty good at routing a stream of conversation to come back around to an unfinished topic. I like my conversations to have purpose, or at least a beginning, middle and an end. It makes me feel comfortable and that nothing was left unsaid. Here, I didn't stand a chance. The conversation flowed in one direction, an ADHD train of one or two sentence statements and observations with my feeble and weak comments tacked on the end like a misfit caboose.
I had told Sug in advance of the meeting that I would get up and go to the bathroom at some point during the meal to allow him to field any questions or comments. As promised, about 2/3rds though the meal, I got up and made my way to the bathroom. I returned to nothing unusual. I am not sure anyone even noticed my absence. Later, Sug told me that when I left, his mother quit talking and the three of them sat in silence until I returned. Anyone else find that a little bizarre? Just me? He says that is the way they usually have dinner. Hmmmmm
Anyway, I was given a hug by Sug's mother as we parted outside the restaurant. So I figured all went well.
After, dinner, Sug and I went to another restaurant for a post-op debriefing. We went to a beautiful little chocolate only dessert place. I wanted some chocolate so very badly. But I had a mild nervous breakdown when looking at the menu items and imagining their caloric content, so I chickened out and had coffee. I should have asked if I could have had one chocolate dipped strawberry or something. Oh well. During the post-op, Sug told me he knew I was incredibly nervous, but couldn't tell at all once we hit the table. That's cool. I love knowing that it isn't readily apparent when I am shaking in my boots. Other than that, Sug didn't have much of a read on what his parents thought.
THE RING
Saturday was spent lolling around the hotel pool and doing some light shopping and heavy drinking and heavier hay-rolling. Sug and I also found time to nap a good bit. It was a heavenly day. Sug gave me a ring. A sweet saphire surrounded by diamonds. It is precious. I haven't taken it off since he gave it to me.
MEET THE FOCKERS FOR A FRIENDLY GAME OF BUSHWHACKING
Sunday we had to go to dinner at Sug's parent's house. Certain that the personal questions were going to come at this meeting, I was a little apprehensive before we went.
This time, it was evident his mother was the nervous one. Sug's Dad looked sleepy and like he'd rather be in bed. Now we know it was because he was coming down with the monster cold he gave me. So, the show was all about Sug's mother.
She did a very nice job putting dinner on the table and the conversation did not get very personal. She did seem surprised to learn that my parents are the same age as she is. I think it jolted her a little to know that I could easily be her daughter. (My mother had me at 26. She had Sug at 41.) She sequed that discussion into talking about having children. The egg counting had begun. She started by lecturing me about having children at as old an age as she was when she had Sug. She advised me that it was a miracle that he turned out alright. I resisted the urge to make several obvious jokes and instead shut down the conversation by demonstrating how much I detest children. Of course, I don't detest children, well generally. I rather like my own child(ren) and those of friends and relatives. I just detest the unrestrained, undisciplined, inconsiderate offspring of the masses. But anyway, that stopped the egg counting without need to resort to jokes about Sug's verility or my feigning transvestiteness.
Then something strange happened. The talk turned political. Now, generally, among friends or family, I will discuss a particular political issue. These discussions are usually quite delicate even among friends. I never discuss these things with strangers. Let alone strangers from another country. Strangers I want to impress.
Well, Mom started the conversation off with a bang. "George Bush is the worst President of the United States ever! I hate that man!"
Ordinarily, those sentences wouldn't get much of a rise from me. I don't know that he isn't the worst President. I don't know that he is. I think I have to take another look at the record of Warren G. Harding to be sure, however. Not being sure, I don't really respond. Finally pressed, I mutter something about being concerned about the errosion of civil liberties that really began with the Regan era.
She continued to press me for a definitive agreement by making some more sweeping statements about George Bush and how little support he has in the United States. Well, now, coming from the business world located in the heavily militarized South, he has a great many supporters around here that I know well. I replied, that I know he has a great many people that support at least some of his actions. She retorted, "Yeah - REDNECKS!"
Okay, now she was insulting people she didn't even know, but that I did. I replied, "no, there are actually some well-educated, wealthy, intelligent people that still support him. They may not agree with every action he has taken, but they still generally support him. And furthermore," I added, "the American Government is not run by only the President, we have a Congress that is charged with designing the laws of the country."
Then she moved on to Clinton. Now, I generally liked Clinton as a President and really wouldn't mind him coming back - but I just found myself not being able to refrain from commenting on these sweeping generalizations. "Isn't it amazing," she said sarcastically, "that nothing happened while Clinton was President."
I said - "Oh really?" Thinking of the USS Cole, Rowanda, preparations for the 2nd WTC attacks, his refusal to budget for and pay US UN dues, etc., I simply replied, "Could it be that things he didn't do contributed to the mess we are in now?"
Without response, the ADHD political train moved on to the next topic and by now a margarita and a beer took care of my inhibitions and I found myself responding to her expressed adoration for Hillary. I could not hold it back. I really really really want to vote Democrat next election, but if Hillary is my choice, I am going to be forced into voting Republican. Hillary is my political button that pulls me out of apathy. So, when asked how I felt about Hillary I replied snidely, "Well, she would be alright if she weren't such a sleazy, coniving hypocrite. I mean, if she would just come out and admit her mistakes, be true to herself and admit who she is, and quit closeting herself all to protect her unbridled ambition for power. If she would say, 'Yes, I knew Bill was cheating, I have known it for years, as everyone else has, but I put up with it because I wanted to be President and I didn't think Americans would vote for a divorced, single woman President.' I would vote for her! If she could say, 'Yes, I knew it was wrong to take so many of the antiques that belonged to the White House when we moved out and I knew that the James Madison table that sat in the Foyer for almost 200 years didn't belong to me, but I had become attached to it and couldn't bear to part with it.' And, 'Yes, I am star struck by Hollywood and Barbara Streisand - Who wouldn't be?' And finally, if she would say, 'This is my longtime girlfriend _______, who lived in the White House with me for months at a time during Bill's term as President and he was fine with it.' I think I could and would vote for her!"
My perhaps mother-in-law-to-be looked stunned and shook her head. "I didn't know Hillary is gay!"
I replied, "I'm just sayin'...." And chuckled silently to myself.
That ended that discussion. Dinner having been finished, we rose, gave hugs and left.
And I felt terrible. Why, oh why, couldn't I keep my mouth shut? Why, oh why, did I feel compelled to respond? Not only respond, but take the opposite approach? Uh...
A QUESTION FOR AMERICANS AND NON-AMERICANS, IS IT UNAMERICAN?
So, the whole occassion really made me think. Does having your country's policies and proceedures attacked by non-resident, non-Americans, automatically put the American in a delicate or sensitive position? I mean, we can agree with the sentiment that our policies are wrong and thereby encourage more and more personal America bashing, feeding the need of the non-American to feel superior. Or, we can argue and defend a policy or regime - even when we don't necessarily believe what we are saying - out of some ingrained sense of duty or honor.
You might be able to tell this sort of thing has happened to me while abroad before. Once, in Ireland, I had an Irish friend of my ex-husband's make nasty comments about the US for what seemed like hours. He finally pulled the last thread when he commented arrogantly, "And the US is going to get kicked out of the WTO." How utterly ridiculous!
I had to stop and laugh and shed my politeness which had obviously been taken for stupidity. "Oh yeah right!" I exclaimed. "As if the WTO could function without the US." Streatching it I said, "The US is the WTO!" Now, I know this isn't true, I just felt compelled to make a sweeping silly statement that is hard to argue with. My plan was to shut the guy up already.
It didn't work as he responded with "The United States is a Whore!"
I laughed and quickly and emphatically countered with, "No, no - The United States is the Pimp. You all - you're the whores!"
Mission accomplished. He left.
Why do non-us citizens feel the need to berrate Americans with political discussions when it is has to be patently clear that I/we do not single-handedly choose the government and decide the policies put in place? Why are Americans loathe to engage in political discussions with non-citizens when outside the US? Why do I/we feel the need to argue on behalf of the US and its citizens even to the extent of arguing for policies in which we don't believe?1
As you might imagine Sug was quiet during the whole discussion which seemed to last hours. Sug's Dad only said, "I've told her not to talk politics with every American she meets!"
But apparently, no hard feelings were felt as a result of the discussion. At least none that Sug would be unkind enough to advise me of.
We know we can tolerate each other - Sug's mom and I. But, I guess we will have to have another meeting to find out if we actually like each other.
ANOTHER QUESTION POPPED
As for Sug and I, we are closer than ever. He asked me to marry him. I said yes. We agreed to have a really long engagement. He is moving in with me in January. We will take it slowly and one day at a time. Uh.......I'm Engaged!
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1(For instance, I actually argued to Sug's mom that the right to bear arms IS an "inalienable" right. Even after she mentioned Virginia Tech. Puhlease. And then I mentioned a recent school shooting in their country. God I can be such a bitch.)
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