Is there anything more hacky than when people say things like “How could it be November already?!” It’s hacktastic. However… I’m guilty of it. Because I’m always genuinely amazed; I’m not just filling space when I say it. I mean, for instance, how could baseball season be over already?? It just started. And get off my lawn, you little shits! I know your daddies.
Anyway, Thanksgiving will somehow be here within minutes. And I thought I’d take this opportunity to quickly tell you about the worst one I can remember, and turn it over to you guys to do the same. How’s that sound? Good, let’s go.
When we lived in Southern California we visited Toney’s mother, Sunshine, in Reno, Nevada a few times. It was a horrible drive, past a million slaughterhouses that produce one of the most godawful stenches I’ve ever encountered. As my dad would say, it was a stink that could gag a maggot.
On this particular trip we left very early in the morning, in my little extended-cab Toyota truck. The older boy was very small, still in a car seat, and I think Toney was pregnant with the younger youngling. We were packed into that thing, uncomfortable before we’d even backed out of the driveway.
For some reason we were listening to a talk radio station, and they were taking calls about the best way to prepare a turkey. This was at something like 5:30 am, so most of the callers were roughly 75 years old. Why we didn’t change the channel, or pop in a CD, I cannot tell you. But, for what seemed like hours, we listened to people arguing about the pros and cons of “brining,” how to properly deep-fry a bird without burning your house down, etc. It was excruciating.
Then we went through Slaughterhouse Alley, which always made me want to upchuck into the console. I remember there was a convenience store in that area that sold many, many different flavors of “gourmet jerky.” I think some of it still had hair on it. It was revolting.
While we were in Reno Toney and I were sent to the store to buy dinner rolls or somesuch, and Toney suggested we walk. She didn’t want to get back into that truck, and I was with her on that one. But there were a lot of questionable characters wandering around that shitty graffiti-laden neighborhood, and it felt like they were sizing us up. Good god. We were deep inside the ‘hood.
Toney’s mother lived (and presumably lives) in a tiny apartment. During Thanksgiving dinner her brother got up, went into the bathroom — which was RIGHT THERE — and blasted ass so loud the felons on the first floor could probably hear it. I mean, he put his full diaphragm behind it. Then, seconds later, he returned to the table and said, “Could somebody pass the potatoes?” I couldn’t believe what I’d just witnessed.
We slept on uncomfortable beds, in a neighborhood full of criminals in doo-rags, behind windows with bars on them. And the next day we folded ourselves back into that truck, and drove through snow across the Sierra Nevada mountains. I was white-knuckling it, thinking we were getting ourselves into a modern-day Donner Party situation.
But we made it through the snow without incident. However… there was some kind of horrific accident near the slaughterhouse/hairy jerky part of the trip, and we were stopped for an hour. I mean literally stopped, on the interstate, with the motor off. People were out walking around, setting up impromptu picnics and whatnot. One family was throwing a Frisbee around.
Yeah, folks were making the most of it, but I felt claustrophobic and trapped. I was mildly panicked the whole time. And at one point some Mexican guy climbed out of a truck, walked to the side of the highway, and started pissing. He didn’t bother to turn his back, or anything. His wang was visible to everyone, and he was peeing in a great arc. It felt like he was showboating a bit, letting everyone in on his mad urination skillz.
It was the day that wouldn’t stop: one of the most uncomfortable and stressful in memory. And it came on the back-end of a Thanksgiving in the slums, with some power-shitting tater-eater, and the joys of Sunshine and Mumbles. Oh yeah.
Now, what about you? What’s the most disastrous Thanksgiving you can remember? Please tell us about it in the comments.
And I’ll see you guys next time.
Have a great day!
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