Day Zero – Chipotle, Swollen Glands and a Special Kind of Hell: Friday May 24, 2013
For the past four years in late May or early June I’ve been heading out to the family farm to play farmer with my dad and older brother, Terry. We’re not really doing any actual farming, but more of a visit to the farm house to clean and fix it after we moved Uncle Ray and Aunt Mary into a “home.” So to say we are good at it would be anything but true, but my dad, brother, and I have a blast playing the roles of what we each think a farmer is; this account begins the day we met up in Livingston, Montana.
Dad showed up at the house after a few calls on how to find us. He’s been here at least three times before. Maybe it’s his oldness. He got out and started talking with my girls. My cell went off while Dad was showing us his new truck. It was Terry.
“What exit is yours?” he said.
“We are exit half-way to hell,” I said.
“Huh?”
“Exit 333.”
When Terry showed up he chatted and goofed around with my girls. Hannah, my oldest, was in the Park High School production of The Phantom of the Opera. My wife, Vicki, had purchased three tickets for my dad, Terry, and I to go see the musical.
Terry was bald and clean shaven. He looked like Kelly, my youngest brother. I don’t remember many times in my life when I’ve seen Terry bald and without a beard. Dad loved the way he looked, but he only likes short and shorter when it comes to hair on the head. He did look younger, but I like the beard on him more.
I took the two baldies over to the Super 8 hotel just off of I-90. When they got all checked in Terry’s stomach was growling. There is a Subway across the way so we partook. Dad was in buying mode so Terry and I were excited. Dad, Terry and I ordered our sandwiches.
“I’ve never tried chipotle before,” Terry said.
We sat down, ate, and talked about what we would do out on the farm. Terry began clearing his throat and stretching his neck, tilting his head up and over to one side.
“We need to get going so we can make it to Hannah’s play,” I said. Dad and I finished our sandwiches, but Terry had a few bites left. He wrapped it up and we walked out. Terry continued stretching his neck and started touching under his jaw.
“Hey, Mike, would you touch this?” He was pointing at his neck. “I think I have some swelling.”
I reached up to his neck to feel the bump that I could see and rammed my finger hard into his swollen gland.
“Oww…” He looked at me. I had a smile on my face.
Terry smiled, “Heehe, oh ho ho.” He didn’t know whether or not to be hurt or laugh. He turned to Dad who also touched his gland, but gentler.
“You are probably allergic to that.” Dad pointed at Terry’s uneaten two or three bites of Subway.
“Yeah, you shouldn’t eat the rest of that,” I added.
Terry looked at the both of us then plunged the rest into his mouth. Five bites and a great swallow later it was gone. We then dropped Terry off at the hospital while Dad and I went to Hannah’s play.
I was excited for my dad to see Hannah perform. It’s easy to be proud of your family like I was tonight. Hannah greeted us and ran up to my dad while we were waiting to take our seats. He beamed at the enthusiasm of her hug. This is going to be a great evening, I thought.
We took our seats right in the middle of the small theater here in Livingston. The lights went out and we were greeted with the announcement of the play. The curtains opened up to the prologue of The Phantom of the Opera with people sitting in rows on stage holding bidding signs. The auctioneer commences the play with the blow of his gavel.
“Sold! Your number, sir? Thank you.”
I looked over at my dad, he looked like he was excited to be here.
“Lot 663…” A poster was for sale. “Do I have ten francs? Five then. Five I am bid. Six, seven. Against you sir, seven…”
“Eight!” yelled my dad.
“…Sold to Raoul, Vicomte de Chagny.”
My dad had nudged the shoulder of the lady right in front of us. She turned and looked at both of us and turned away quickly. My dad rubbed his hands again for another go.
“Lot 664,” said the auctioneer who showed a wooden pistol and three human skulls. “Ten.”
“Eleven!” yelled my dad.
I quickly leaned into my father. “Hey, this isn’t interactive theater.”
I thought of a quote from one of my favorite TV series, Firefly, when Book tells Mal, “… you’re going to burn in a very special level of hell. A level they reserve for child molesters and people who talk at the theater.” I smiled at the thought.
Lucky for me this bid item went up and was done before my dad could bid out loud again.
“Lot 665.”
Dad was on the edge of his seat by now. What the hell? I thought.
“…A papier-mâché musical box, in the shape of a barrel organ. Attached, the figure of a monkey in Persian robes, playing the cymbals. This item, discovered in the vaults of the theatre, still in working order.” The porter holds up the music box and monkey. My dad is ready to buy this item right off the stage.
“May I start at twenty francs?” says the auctioneer. My dad who is sitting to my right has his right arm outstretched. I reach over to pull it down and he recoils away, out of my reach like he’s a frickin’ five-year-old. “…Fifteen then? Fifteen I am bid.”
“Hey.” I get his attention. He looks at me then with a big frown, and folds his arms. The show went on and I showed him each time Hannah was on stage. Later in the show my dad turns to me still frowning and arms folded.
“I don’t even know what’s going on.”
I tried to explain what was happening but he wasn’t interested in the play.
When it was over we waited for Hannah to get out and I dropped her off at home, then I took dad to the Super 8 motel where Terry was waiting, lying on the bed in his underwear. I stayed for a few minutes but wanted to get away from my dad, and I think him from me. The trip hadn’t even started.
Day One – Five Tires Later: Saturday May 25, 2013
Day Two – The Farm: Sunday May 26, 2013
Day Three – No Mo’ Chili: Monday May 27, 2013