Drunks & Toothless Canadians (pt.2)

The springy haired woman is correcting the drunk over something I have missed.  It turns out the drunk is saying she wants to go dancing at the Cuba Fest in the main square. ‘Listen that is Cuban music” she says pointing her finger in the air. She is wrong.  What she hears is the corny ‘Best of Dave Brubeck’ that the restaurant has been playing.  I keep eating and don’t bother correcting her.  The springy haired lady is complaining of her lack of sleep.  On a sad note, she admits that today is the fourth anniversary of her husband’s death.  The drunk tries to debunk the validity, but the woman with man hands reaches over, places her hand on the drunks and sternly says, “No. It is four years to this very day” and she settles the argument with that.  She raises her eyes and looks at us, and apologizes for her tiredness.  Tonya expresses sympathy to her and then we get a surprise.  “It’s not that.  I just have some horrible renters that I want to get rid of.  They are keeping me up all night.  I can’t get any peace with them here” she says. 

“Oh, they’re horrible people” the drunk adds.

“Have they been with you long? Tonya asks. “No, just a few days.  They are from Canada and they should not be here.  They signed on for two weeks and I don’t think I can take it.  I have to find a way to get them out of my house” the springy haired lady says.  Tonya asks the obvious question; what are they doing or what have they done that is so awful.  The two ladies look at one another and burst out laughing.  Perhaps it is an inside joke that we were not meant to get.  They are laughing so hard that it is hard to understand them; all I get is something about “teeth”. 

The springy haired lady gets her composure back and says, ‘Look.  They just shouldn’t be here.  One of the women is like 250 pounds.  It is not that they are bad, they are just relentless.  The first thing the fat lady says when she arrives at my house is, ‘Where’s the safe?’  I looked at her and said, ‘What do you mean ‘the safe’?  I tell her that I don’t have a safe, but I keep valuables in a locked dresser and that I will happily put her valuables in there if she needs me too” She smiles as she relays all of this.  She raises her hand as if to halt us from saying anything, and she cocks her head, “What valuables do you have?”  The drunk knows the punch line, so she starts laughing. “I have my driver’s license, my passport and my teeth”.  As if on cue, we all start laughing.  “The next morning the fat lady comes down and says, ‘It’s OK.  I solved my problem.  I put all my valuables on top of the wardrobe.  It is too high for anyone to look there,’ she tells as she shakes her head.  She holds up a finger and adds; ‘Now I am worried that one of them is going to die.  I don’t want them to hurt themselves on my property.  I can’t afford a lawsuit.  That wardrobe is very tall.  This is a very fat lady.  She is putting her things up there and standing on old wooden, wobbly chairs to do so.  I just know she is going to fall and hurt herself!”

I ask how old these women are.  One is in her 70’s and the other in her early 60’s.  According to the springy haired lady, one of the women sits on the porch and smokes over 2 packs a day while the more agile Canadian wonders the town. “It’s just not good.  I do not understand why they are here.  It makes no sense.  I know one of them is going to die while she is here.  I have to figure out a way to get them back to Canada.  The one…the poor thing that sits on the porch and smokes, she can’t eat!  All she does is drink water, and it drives me crazy!”

I am curious, and not quite following the story, “What do you mean she can’t eat?”

The two women burst out laughing again.  In perfect unison they yell out, “She left her teeth in Montreal!”  Tonya shakes her head and utters a simple, “Poor thing”.  The drunk beams as she adds, “I know there is a song in there some where!”  As she starts to sing the springy haired woman reaches over and pats her hands to quell the episode, and she continues to tell of how she has been babysitting the women non stop since they arrived.  “As soon as they got here and unpacked, they realized they left the one woman’s teeth behind.  All she does is smoke and drink water.  My maid tried to make her a three day supply of soup, but she will not eat it.  I told the women that I have triple filtered water in the house, but if need be, I would get them a big 20 liter container of water they could keep in their room during their stay.  They said it was ok, and no need to worry.  The second day they were here, at 6 in the morning I hear a scratching at my door.  I could not believe it.  My lover was there with me and he looks at me and asks, ‘What is that?  Is there some sort of animal in here!?’  I had no idea what it was.  It just kept scratching.  I got out of bed and went to my bedroom door to see what it was.  I slowly opened it to see the fat woman standing there saying she was thirsty, and would like for me to get her some water as promised. Oh my!  I could not believe it!”  The springy hair just shakes form side to side.  This is unbelievable.

“I can’t believe this!  They should not be here!  Now I have these two old Canadians who have paid for two more weeks of vacation-but one of them is going to die!  What is she going to do without eating for two more weeks?!  The other one can’t go buy her food or soup, because she had a breakdown and started having a panic attack while trying to find them food in the grocery store.  I can’t go do their shopping for them too!  They just have no business being here-but I can’t let them stay and have the toothless woman die in my house!”

I like the springy haired lady with the man hands.  She is funny, she is polite and she is partial Texan.  She says she likes us too.  She says she wants us to be in contact with her because she thinks we will like her friends who are coming to visit soon. “I just know you all will get along!”  She grabs a napkin and rips off a piece like a cheap floozy does when she wants to pass her number around.  She writes her name and number down and says we must call her and come visit.  She lives up in the hills, but says dinner together would be fun.  We say we will visit for sure.  The drunk grabs the ripped napkin and rips off a very small piece and scrawls down her info as well.  I have no idea what she said because by now it is all slurred.  She waves at the waiter to come over and as he approaches she says, “You’re South African!” as if this is a great revelation.  He just tries to get them all paid up and out of his hair.

The two older ladies finally get their money squared away.  The springy haired lady says she will not be going to dance in the Cuban Fest in the square.  They say how nice it was that we joined them at their table.  We partially agree, and again get invitations to visit both of them.  We say goodbye and they leave out under the stone archway into the night. Whew! Glad that’s over. “My salad was horrible” Tonya mutters. I look at her and say, “Well yeah, what kind of salad is cubed mango on top of sliced tomato anyway?”  “It was supposed to have pesto and all sorts of stuff on it.  Not at all what they brought out, I should have sent it back.  Now I am hungry” she grumbles.  What do you expect from a place called Mandingos’?  The waiter is no where to be seen.  I do not want to sit here all night waiting on him either.  We have had our fill and are ready to go.  I decide to get up and start searching for the supposed South African.

I walk in to a little bar in front of the restaurant.  A group of older Americans are walking out.  They smile and say ‘hello’. I peer in and there is the lanky waiter behind the bar.  He is wearing a hat now.  He is talking to two young ladies at the two-seater bar.  One of the young women is the leggy, braless one who was instructed to go into the men’s room.  I completely understand why service sucks tonight; the waiter thinks he is going to score with one of these two younger women, and I know exactly which one he thinks he is getting too.  I walk in and up to the bar.  The two girls stop talking.  I have totally just poured down on their little party.  I ask to pay up.  I want out of here.  The waiter fumbles for change and knocks over a stack of tickets.  He knows that I know what he’s trying to do.  He hands me my change almost as if embarrassed.  He should be.