This is the what. I flew up (all over myself) to Santa Rosa from LAX last night in a tiny plane. It departed late. A woman called her husband from the runway and detailed every way in which late airplanes are TERRIBLE. She seemed to really know her shit when it came to the vagaries of privilege. I sincerely hope things have gotten better for her but from what I could tell her life was going to lead to a lot of complaint letters and general confusion regarding her requirements of the world and its unresponsiveness. DADDY HELP! I’m drowning in a sea of taffeta and maraschino cherries without a hairnet!
I arrived and my dad picked me up at the Santa Rosa airport. He had his sweatshirt hood up, which I have never seen him do before. We were twins of spirit, no matter which road home we took, or what we forsook.
My dad has a level of anger and anxiety with regard to customer service that I imagine parallels living in a war-torn country. He thinks the streets are run by hoodlums just waiting to make it confusing to park, packaging the one color of socks he wants with two colors he doesn’t, and ignoring him upon his impressive entry into their boutique cell phone store.
So we walk out of the airport and his VW wagon is parked among rental cars because he couldn’t figure out where to park at the Santa Rosa airport. I’m not sure what everyone else there did, but I’m assuming they all have passcodes to the officers’ parking taj mahal.
I took my dad to his house then drove to St. Helena where I am staying at a bargain motel. I didn’t realize St. Helena had such a thing. I thought bargains were run out of town with Presbyterians. I checked in with a guy who apparently was laid off from a local comic book store owing to his dry humor/flat affect. Or maybe he used to be in the band Yes. It was deeply unclear to me.
I saw people across from the office sitting in a hot tub. It was 11 at night. I love sitting in hot tubs and water in general but I felt disgusted with them, not sure why. It might have been my step-brother and his wife. But I was scared to find out. If it was them I would have felt better and joined them (in spirit–forgot my bikini).
I got to my room and entered to find a tall, monster four-poster bed. I had to start at the door and run at the bed to get up on it. Once I achieved that gay act, I opened a fruit punch gatorade, the giant bag of Ruffles my step-mom gave me and proceeded to watch a show on PBS about the indigenous people of Scandinavia (the Sami), to whom it would appear I am related. Pale skin, Asiatic eyes and voluminous deerskin jackets, living off the land. They showed a Sami man coming across two female deer who died of starvation together in the snow because they were fighting and their antlers got tangled together and they couldn’t get them apart. I’m not immune to metaphor. Though I don’t prefer it.
I woke up this morning feeling like billions of dollars. My skin was REALLY clear. I don’t know why. The lighting at the sink of my motel room is glorious. Nothing like the 15-year-old eco-bulb I bought at Ikea illuminating my mirror at home. It keeps my ego in check though. I can’t just prance around like my rack of antlers is the prettiest of all.
I drove to my dad’s and we went Christmas shopping. No fact of life escaped his critical laser gaze. Everything was poorly designed and uninterested in seducing his expendable dollar. Energetically he is like a chihuahua full of hummingbirds duct taped to a Tilt-a-Whirl. I started staying in the car while he stopped in different places just to get my heart rate back down to a healthy level. To challenge myself I had him stop so I could get coffee. We called my mom on the way and were still talking when we got to coffee. My dad joked, “Oh no, your mom and I have to entertain each other?” Because they are very good friends. I said, “Well you already got divorced, where else could things go?” Then ran inside and purchased my second soy latte of the day (I know, disgusting), bringing my spending total to $12. What a deal!
We drove back to Calistoga. We saw a guy on the side of the road selling fresh honey. My dad said, “Want some fresh honey?” I said, “Yeah!” He said, “I don’t.” and kept driving. I said, “Fresh honey is actually good.” My dad changed the subject.
Now I’m at the house. My niece and nephew are in the living room spazzing out. My dad is watching last night’s Packer game. I’m really looking forward to some wine and gluten-free foodstuffs. My nephew is also gf so there is always a boon of food I can eat. It’s pretty deluxe. I shall continue to report from the front lines/filthy carpet.