In the Trenches: The Road to Turkey Day (Finale)
Turkey Day
I woke up on Thanksgiving day to find that the cooking was underway. My mother was already heating her week old frozen turkey and making way too many mashed potatoes. This last is the result of me once saying that I liked mashed potatoes. Ever since that slip she's been cooking up several quarts of the stuff for me each and every holiday. The rest of the meal consisted of gravy from a mix, corn, a salad, and cranberry sauce in the shape of a can. There weren't any rolls for some reason but I didn't really care. At nearly every meal I'm the last one done somehow. Today I was done in a record five minutes and left the table. After my dad was done eating he went after some of those off-limit pies (you know he's got the diabetes, don't you?), but just little pieces so I don't think they count.
Later, I wandered into the game room to borrow my parents' scanner. I had to make a quick copy of my proof of insurance and decided to use the free time rather than wait until I was back home. The day before I had had to reset my parents' computer wallpaper because they didn't know how. They had accidentally set it to a picture of a horse (rotated 90 degrees) and didn't know how to undo it. I mention this only because someone that had done such a thing should not try to instruct me on how to use the scanner and printer (both of which I set up for them in the first place). But, that's just what my dad started doing. He was very insistent about what I should be using on the computer to accomplish my task. In spite of his help I managed to finish my task and move on.
For some reason my mother later decided she needs bread for turkey sandwiches. Just in case anyone wants one later. I don't, Lisa doesn't, my dad doesn't eat white bread "what with the diabetes and all". I tell her she can go out and try to find some place to buy it if she wants to, but that I don't think it's necessary. She gets in a huff about it for some reason and my dad starts in with "Well, do you want me to go get some goddamn bread or not?" She responds with the ever helpful, "Nevermind! It's fine. Nevermind!" Ah, family.
Much like I did as a teenager, I retreat to my room and close the door. The main difference now is that I have an internet connection and a girl in there. Despite what I would have thought as a teenager I opt to use the internet connection. While catching up on my feeds I hear the omnipresent [cough][COUGH][HORK!!!] from the other room. My dad picked up a cough shortly before we had arrived. He's sure it's not contagious, but I'm somewhat doubtful. Then, I hear quite clearly (because he listens to the television at full volume) the sounds of a television show in Spanish blasting through the walls. I sneak out to find that he's watching a Mexican version of Family Feud. This is made more odd by the fact that he doesn't speak Spanish. He watches roughly ten minutes of it before moving on to something else. I sometimes feel like these people are aliens not so cleverly disguised to look like humans.
To round out the evening, the four of us have an impromptu bullshit session around the kitchen table. We spend the time catching up on family news and I get to hear about how my parents are going to die any day now. Despite that last mandatory discussion of everyone's mortality, it proves to be the most enjoyable part of the trip. There's no television blasting, almost everyone hears everything the first time it's said, and they seem so much like real people.
Epilogue
I wake up the next day eager to hit the road and get back to my own bed and my own internet connection. After she's done showering, Lisa sees my parents eating cereal for breakfast. This means we can hit the road without going to eat first. As I finish my shower I find out that they're still somehow ready to go eat lunch. They're machines! We get tricked into going to some cut rate Chinese-like buffet. The selection is poor and everything is either too sweet or has an extra "bonus" flavor added to it that makes it incredibly unappetizing.
When we get to the table my mother separates some broccoli onto another plate and sits it on the edge of the table. A waiter swoops in and takes it off to the back. "What the fuck was that about," I ask.
"He's going to rinse it off. I can't have any salt." She then sits there not eating. When asked she explains, "I'm waiting for them to bring me more of the shrimp sauce."
"Did you ask for any?" She assures me that they "know." Sure enough her broccoli returns with a cup and a half of some sauce that looks like vanilla pudding. She stirs it into her rice and drenches her shrimp in it. My dad then eagerly takes the rest and spews it on his food as well. He offers some to Lisa and me. We decline and he happily uses the rest of it. Once again, my parents' newfound mysterious love of sauces over food (see the piña colada sauce from the previous entry) is further evidence that they're some sort of alien species. One that subsists on a diet primarily of sauce or sauce-like substances.
We finally make it out of there and have a white knuckle ride home thanks to my dad's crazy driving. I think he's hopped up on the sugar from the pineapple and chocolate pudding concoction he created from the dessert portion of the buffet. Lisa and I hit the ground running, pack, load the car, insist we must do it again some time, and get the hell out of dodge.
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