Part 5: CRUNCH

The kinfolk are coming today! Yep, we will be playing host for about a week. All seems to be going well. I swept, vacuumed and Tonya mopped. Fresh sheets, blankets towels-everything is in order.

By sheer chance, while putting the finishing touches on the restroom, Tonya discovers that after all the prep, the toilet doesn’t work! Well, it works, it flushes and fills, it is just that the bowl does not fill up.

Great, the parents coming in and they will not even be able to use their own toilet. This is the way to get things off to a great start. What do you do? I suppose you greet your visitors and just kindly point out to them that in spite of all the comfort you have tried to provide, they will have to pee and pooh someplace else. So be it…at least the shower works!


Out the door and off to the airport. This is the first time to make this journey. I had asked that Tonya get directions. Did she? No. To her, directions are ‘just drive and we’ll find it’. To me, this spells disaster in this crazy place. We have about 40 minutes to get there.

Looking down on sprawl, approaching the airport

35 minutes and counting and we are nowhere near. We are sitting in traffic. It annoys me to no end that Tonya talks to me and tells me street names like I am some one-toothed cab driver with a comb over, whose been trodding these streets for decades. All the names and directional quotes mean nothing. Each cab that inches up beside us tells Tonya a different route. We end up behind some market in front of a sign advertising tattoos and piercings. The kid in the van next to us may hold the key though…Tonya leans out and asks him how to get to the airport. He waves his hand with the cigarette then puts it back in his mouth and tells us to follow him. We do. I know when it is my time to exit when the hand with the cigarette comes out of the window and motions me to the left. We wave and smile and peel off in the opposite direction. That was a nice kid…even if he did smoke.

By the time we make it to their airport and find our way up to the arrivals area, I see the parents already outside with their bags. I feel like a heel, but get out and run to them quickly. We exchange hugs and pleasantries and I grab their bags and start loading them. Thankfully, they’d only been outside about 5 minutes! This is a relief, because it gives us ample time to get lost on the way home. We do this with utmost precision.

some mosaic lumps under an overpass

I am surprised at how cool Dad is. He just sits in the passenger seat and watches the city go by, “Watch that la..”He starts to warn, but too late. My side mirror hits her fruit cart. Yes, the trip up home definitely provides the folks with an up close and very personal view of the city. We ask for pointers from cops, and of course, and cab that happens to pull up. Dad tries his best Spanish once or twice, with an unsteady “Hey…senior…”. At least it gets the cabbies attention.

We end up in front of a place with an archway, like an ancient entry into a city, but this is less glamorous. This is ‘Barrio 18’. Dad doesn’t mind, instead he just quips that, “I am enjoying getting my tour of the city out of the way first!” Thanks.

Barrio 18

At home, we unload the folks and show them around the place. They want to see all sorts of stuff. I am quick to point out to dad that his private toilet will not be working. He fiddles with it a bit (he’s infamous for putzing around with stuff) and gets it to flush. He snoops a bit more then deducts that the inner wall has been broken and the water is going straight down the pipe. How could this be broken…we just had Mr. Cruz in to dispense some magic with his handiwork? It turns out that is exactly why it is broken; Mr. Cruz’s handiwork. We carry on and they get the full tour.

We discuss dinner and then decide to drive to the grocery store. No problems, we know this path very well. We get a pleasant surprise when we check out because the folks pick up the tab! Yowza, and to think we skipped on wine and steaks.

Back at home, things began to fall into place nicely. There is chatter in the kitchen, Dad putzing around on his computer, the dogs wondering in and out, and the perfect time for me to do a little pc’ing.

I sit on the couch and start to type out something like this continuing journal. It feels good having visitors already here, especially that they can take it on the chin that their toilet doesn’t work. The food smells great too (then again, Tonya is a world class cook. Always amazing! I start to get busy on my project and Sunny comes and sits beside me. It is always comforting to have one of the pups near by. I have no idea how far into typing I was when I notice Sunny fidgeting next to me. No big deal, I keep going. To be honest, I was not keeping time or paying too much attention to what was really going on around me. Then I hear a loud ‘CRACK’.

“What the…” was my first thought. When I hear a loud ‘CRUNCH’ and something break in the process, I decided it best to investigate.

Sunny (aka skull crusher)

Since the noises came from beside me, I figured it must be Sunny. I turn to see what he’s chomping on and reach down to check what is in his mouth. He will not open, and he is on full lock-down mode. “Gimme that!” I say as I reach to pry his jaws open. After wresting with him a moment, I snatch the object out of his mouth.

“SUNNY!” I yell as I am shocked to find what I am holding in my hand. “UGH. GROSS!” was just a knee jerk reaction as I realize I am holding a stiff boomerang shaped, half-decayed black squirrel in my hands. Sunny’s crunching was due to this little squirrel’s skull. I look down at my handful or rot and shriek like a girl. Immediately I fling it onto the floor. Almost as soon as it hits, I realize that was a mistake. Now the other dogs think it is playtime with the new dead-thing.

“A Squirrel!” and I get up holding the stiff dead thing as far away from me as possible and head straight to the door. I cannot get to the trash can fast enough. With my foot, I slam the door behind me to keep the line of excited dogs inside. I am so grossed out. I can feel bacteria, germs, probably black plague even, crawling up my hands and onto my forearms. I want to gag, but I don’t smell anything. I toss it into the trash and head back inside.

Everyone is curious as to what is happening after the screams and door slamming. I walk into the kitchen with my arms up in a pre-operation procedure pose, “It was a rotten squirrel” I tell Tonya. She looks horrified. ‘Where is it?” she asks. I stand there with both arms up holding my breath for fear of ingestion more rotten decay, and tell her the deed is done.

“Can you press the soap thingy please….I have to wash my hands!”

She obliges. She give the pump a half-assed pump and a measly, pea size morsel of soap falls into my disgusting palms. I look at her with utter contempt, but she has no idea. She has already gotten back to her cooking. With her back to me she adds “Make sure you clean it up good, and shake all the cushions”. I reach down and with the back of my hand, press down to get some more soap out. I scrub like a brain surgeon pre-Einstein op.

I walk back into the den and see tufts of black hair on the couch and ‘crumbs’ of something around on the floor. I cannot tell you how grossed out I was as I grabbed the cushions and shook them, watching hair and debris fly off. Sweeping up the left over animal bits, I was holding my breath just hoping that when I tossed the squirrel that none of these hairs or koodies ended up in my nasal passages or mouth.

No one wanted to sit on the couch anymore that night. Obviously, Sunny went without any affection for what would be the next 12 hours or so. He was the designated leper of the night. Thankfully though, dinner went off without a hitch and we all had a great night. It was good to have some familiar faces here.