A Funny Thing Happened on the Way to My Sexual Orientation (6 page)

I could never understand why comedians always tell stories about how horrible their flights to wherever they were going were. At least they got to travel first class! I never did yet. I also never got to sit next to some overweight person who spilled over into my seat, never sat behind someone who insisted on remaining reclined the entire trip and never sat in front of some little brat who kicked my seat. I have, however, been gypped out of my bag of peanuts and been overlooked by the stewardess serving a meal.

Before when I've flown, I've been alone. Not this time. No, I was with Mary Poppins and her other traveling companion, Jack Daniels. At least she was quiet for the trip and somewhat lucid for the landing.

We had barely stepped into the terminal when our welcoming party shouted out to us, “Hey, Hotdog!"

"Oh, shit,” I mumbled. It was my Great-uncle Chester and his wife Virginia. This really was going to be an interesting ride to Covina.

Uncle Chester always called Grandma “Hotdog” and the other members of the family by some other little pet name; but for some reason, he always had trouble remembering mine—my real name, that is. He also had a reputation for being a bigger pain-in-the-ass than I could ever aspire to be. I liked him well enough when he wasn't talking to me and enjoyed his jokes when I wasn't the butt of them, but I was going to be sharing closer quarters with him than I ever had before.

His wife was fairly quiet, which was a nice contrast to her husband. Nobody really knew too much about her, though. Maybe I'd get an opportunity to start a conversation with her during the trip.

Starting a conversation with Uncle Chester was never a problem. He reminded me of one those drips a faucet sometimes developed, the kind you can never turn off.

"Chester!"

Grandma set her bag down in front of me and ran over to him. Since I was blocking all the people still trying to exit the plane, I took it that I was to be her baggage boy for the moment instead of her grandson. I kept my temper in check and watched as she gave Uncle Chester a huge, tight hug and then a kiss. I wondered how he could stay standing and not get dizzy after smelling her breath. It still had to be at least 40-proof.

Shortly after, Grandma greeted Aunt Virginia and gave her a quick peck on the cheek and a soft hug, hardly the greeting her brother had received. Aunt Virginia was apparently very fragile and had to be handled with care, as it appeared too-rapid inhalation and exhalation of air from her lungs might damage her irreparably.

The three of them talked for a few minutes while I stood by and waited for them to finish. Grandma finally started looking around, presumably for her bag, and then saw me with it. It seemed for a moment she was going to ask me why I had her luggage and then remembered I was a relative who had just happened to fly out with her. Recognition is such a beautiful thing in life.

"Chester, Virginia, you remember my...” Grand-ma looked confused for a moment, as if still trying to place me. “This is Marie and Donald's son."

"Andy.” I extended my hand to Uncle Chester. “The grandson."

"Well!” Uncle Chester snatched me up, almost off the ground, and gave me the same kind of hug Grandma had given him. “Of course you are!"

"Whoa.” I nearly gagged, and he set me down. “It's Miller time.” I now understood why he didn't get dizzy after smelling Grandma's breath. They were two peas that belonged together in the same pod. I couldn't wait to meet the rest of the family, assuming they were allowed out of the Betty Ford Clinic for the anniversary, that is.

"That's a great idea, Adam!” Uncle Chester looked at me with approval in his eyes. “Hotdog, he's family, all right. We've got a few minutes to kill, so why don't we go hit the airport bar for a drink and you can tell me how your flight was."

"We have to get our lug—” Grandma only managed to get that out before she was cut off.

"Oh, nonsense!” Uncle Chester put one arm around her and the other around his wife. “The kid can get all the bags then find us at the bar. He has to earn his keep somehow.” He turned them around then looked at me over his shoulder and winked. “Go bust your hump, Alex. I'll buy you a water afterwards."

I was ready to go bust something, all right, and it wasn't my hump! What the hell was up with Grandma, anyway? She was going to tell Uncle Chester about the trip? She probably couldn't even
remember
the damn trip! I didn't get a chance to say hello to Aunt Virginia, either. The poor woman was going to be so confused by the time I had another opportunity she'd never be able to remember my name, either. Grandma was off the plane for five minutes and the only thing she could remember was that I happened to be “Marie and Donald's child.” Isn't that lovely?

I just hoped to God that the fact he was only going to buy me a glass of water didn't mean I'd suddenly become the designated driver.

It took about twenty minutes before the luggage started filtering out along the conveyor. As I should have expected, considering how the trip had gone so far, ours were almost the last to come out. To make matters worse, while I only brought one large suitcase, Grandma had two. I thought at first maybe she had just brought the second one to pack whatever she decided to bring back as gifts for the rest of the family. Nope. It was full, and there weren't rollers on the bottom of it. I would have thought that, with the amount of money she spent on spirits, she could afford a newer suitcase with rollers.

Old people are so damn stuck on the philosophy “If it works...” It doesn't work! I know. I had to carry her two while dragging my own behind me. By the time I found the others, I was out of breath, out of strength and needing that fucking water!

"We were wondering where you were.” Uncle Chester looked at his watch. “Took your time, eh? Well, you may have set us back a little bit, so I guess I'll just have to try and make up for it on the freeway. Come on, Hotdog!"

The three of them stood up and exited the bar. The only thing I could do was stand there. It seemed the peaceful thing to do, and it beat screaming or throwing things. Just blessed nothingness...

Grandma peeked her head around the corner a moment later. Did she offer to help me with her suitcases? No. Did she offer her brother's help with her suitcases? No. She gave me a dirty look and snapped her fingers to get me to follow. The only reason I picked everything up again and started after them was so I could find a very tall overpass on the way to the car and chuck her cases over the side.

Between her continued dirty looks, finger-snaps, and Uncle Chester's never-ceasing complaints about how slow I was and that I could be “outrun by any ninety-year-old in a wheelchair,” it was a damn good thing there
wasn't
an overpass.

We finally arrived at the car.

"Well, Hotdog, what do you think?” Uncle Chester gestured grandly with his hand at the chariot that awaited us.

"An economy car,” I spoke up, “and a small one at that. How quaint.” Where the hell we were going to fit everything into this vehicle was beyond me. Then again, perhaps he would just suggest tying me to the roof or bumper. After all, it seemed I was expendable.

"Virginia thought we should bring the minivan,” Uncle Chester admitted, “but I didn't really see the point. Why spend the extra money using up all that gas when we can get better mileage out of this?” He opened up a trunk that actually made the rest of the vehicle look much larger. There was no way we could fit three suitcases in it. “Know what I mean?"

"Absolutely,” I agreed with him and shook my head. “Without a doubt.” I mumbled the next part as I started squeezing two of the suitcases into the small confined area. “Why go somewhere com-fortably when you can travel in something the size of a can of Spam?"

The last case just wasn't going to fit. What we were going to do with it was a mystery.

"Uncle Chester?"

All three of them came over and looked at me with disapproval.

"This isn't going to work."

"That's because ya don't know what you're doing!” He looked in the trunk and shook his head. “Why don't you go make yourself useless and I'll fix it."

Why not? I've made it a habit in life to make myself useless when I wasn't needed, so I let him deal with it. If Roberto had come with Grandma, he'd either be having the time of his life or he'd be thinking about throttling Uncle Chester, too. At least now I understood why nobody else wanted to come here with Grandma—I was the family's sacrificial goat.

The whole situation made me start to wonder if my life had really been as difficult as I'd thought before I left home. If I'd wanted to be treated like a Kay-Mart employee, I could have stayed there. On the other hand,
this was California
, home of some of the most sexually attractive and sexually hungry women on the face of the planet! Even I couldn't possibly strike out here, especially since there was a rumor there were women in this state who couldn't find enough men to give them what they desired, so they turned to various kinds of fruit for pleasure. I would be just one more virgin cast out onto a sea of women waiting to engulf me.

"I think we have it worked out.” Grandma spoke up from in back and walked around to the front with Aunt Virginia. “We'll sit in back,” she told her, “and let ... Marie and Donald's son sit in front. There's a little more room up there, and we shouldn't be too cramped in back."

Other than the fact she still couldn't remember my name, I thought it was the first sensible thing she'd said yet. I was six feet tall, and there was no way on God's earth I could have managed to fit in the backseat of that dinky little economy car. Why they called it an economy car was no great mystery. It probably got the same kind of mileage as all the other cars, only with half the room.

Economy car or not, I was glad Grandma was thinking of me and how squished I would be if I had to ride in the back. It just wouldn't have been pretty.

"And I shall graciously accept the front.” I winked at the two women, but they merely glared at me. It was as if I'd said something entirely inappropriate. Since when was taking the front seat such an offense? Should I be complaining? Would that make them happier? Old people could be funny that way.

"Of course you're taking the front!” Uncle Chester ushered me inside the car after Grandma climbed into the backseat. “You didn't expect any of the ladies to drive with this on their lap, did you?"

He forced my suitcase through the door and succeeded in scraping my jaw and then setting it to rest with one corner on my groin. All I could do was groan as I desperately tried to rearrange it in a better position.

"Well, Axel...” Uncle Chester patted me on the shoulder. “...that will teach you to pack a little lighter next time."

He shut the door, but one of the corners of the suitcase was sticking out a little and it didn't close tight. Instead of helping me rearrange things a bit, he opened it then swung it shut harder and looked satisfied when it stayed.

The seventy minutes to Covina was a long, painful and hot experience. It was long because Uncle Chester only drove fifty-five miles an hour, which increased our travel time from the original theoretical seventy minutes to almost two hours. His idea of making up for the time we had lost at the airport apparently meant going the speed limit, as it wasn't such a good idea to push an economy car up to the speeds that all the yuppies drove. He informed us that speeds fifty-five and above were the reasons they had to get their cars replaced so often, and he hated contributing to an already corrupt capitalist system.

The ride was painful because I was never able to reposition my suitcase. All I could do was lift it up off
that
area as best I could and pray he didn't hit too many bumps, which of course he managed to do with uncanny precision.

Making things even worse was that Uncle Chester didn't have a clue how to operate his air conditioner.

"Chester,” Grandma said, “would you turn the air on? Virginia and I are really uncomfortable."

"It is on, Hotdog. Probably just isn't warmed up enough to send out the cool air.” He gave me a sidelong look. “Amos's bag here is probably blocking the breeze. Hope that isn't too heavy for you, kid. Maybe you should start working out, put some muscles on those girly little arms of yours."

He winked at me, and I felt like poking his eye out.

"It's been warming up for thirty minutes. You have to push the A/C button down once,” Grandma told him impatiently, “otherwise it just circulates the air that's already in the car and it doesn't cool—"

"I know what I'm doing, Hotdog.” He frowned and gave her a dirty look in the mirror. “It's either broken or that's as cool as it gets. Economy car, you know?” His good humor returned. “Those air conditioners they have in all those other yuppie cars, why, I'll just bet every time they get used it shortens a hundred miles off the life of the car. Pretty soon, you have to go and buy another new car, and the carmakers have found even better ways to take the life out of that car in a lot shorter time. One of these years, we'll have to get a new car every time we want to go out and drive. I hope I don't live to see that day."

I hoped not, either, and it had nothing to do with having the satisfaction of proving him right or wrong. It just had to do with satisfaction.

Grandma persisted. “But if you push the button down, you'll see—"

"Hey!” Uncle Chester raised his voice. “Who's doing the driving here, missy?” He tried to reclaim his calm. “Now, the air is working just fine, so sit back and enjoy the sights."

Sights? Oh, the freeway—a sight we
never
saw back home. No,
we
just had dirt roads, and horsedrawn carriages.

Everyone in the car knew he didn't have a clue what he was talking about. It had probably never occurred to him to push the A/C button down or that it was even a button at all. How long had the two of them owned the car and never bothered using the air conditioner?

I also figured he was too stubborn to get the manual out and look to see if he was doing something wrong. Well, he was
incapable
of doing anything wrong, so why would he get the book out? It was easier to believe the car didn't work properly. Consequently, he had learned to enjoy the heat.