Captain’s Log February 24, 2007
Aunt Betty died last Friday, funeral services are today at Saint Andrew Presbyterian Church of Santa Barbara
My parents expected me to be at their house at 10:00 AM. This was not going to happen. I called and asked them if they planned on picking me up. My mother said no, but they could. She then called back and suggested my brother, Scott, pick me up. I agreed. This bought me a little more time to stuff my suitcase with random items and funeral attire.
10:33 AM Scott gets me evicted once and for all
Scott arrives in his black Camry and parks on the side of my apartment building, slightly blocking #11’s spot, which is vacant. #11 comes home from a trip to the convenience store and honks as she turns the corner sprightly in her bright green Jetta. Scott rolls his car forward. #11 gets out of her car and glares at him shaking her head. He in turn flicks her off. This is not good. Last week #19 complained to the manager about me. The manager threatened to move “my kind” out if I kept up the troubles. I assured her that me and my poetry reading rebels would tone it down, then I had another reading. #19 came back. I haven’t heard from the landlord. I’m waiting for my eviction notice.
The neighbor is distraught with Scott’s sign language and yells “Fuck you!” He returns the greeting. I tumble down the stairs half asleep. Pass by her. I jump in the car and she turns around, Scott waves and we peel out.
12:19 PM We arrive in Santa Barbara
“Over here.” My mother says smiling sarcastically from the table, she waves us over. They are the only ones in the restaurant. We couldn’t have missed them if we tried.
They are drinking what looks like slurpees out of margarita glasses. The waitress appears.
“I’ll have a margarita on the rocks please.” She brings over a glass of tequila on ice, I think there is a hint of mix in it, but I can’t be sure. I am pretty sure that I didn’t use mouthwash this morning and now don’t need to.
2:00 PM Funeral Services Commence
“Leigh, you’re in charge of the guestbook.” Vera instructs. Vera is the best friend to my Aunt Betty. They’d lived together since young adulthood posing as two old maids. I was never sure which one was my Aunt until my twenties because it was always “Aunt Betty and Vera”. This made Christmas gift tags easy.
An elderly woman comes to the podium to sign the guest book. I smile at her nicely. “This is the first time I’ve ever been to this church.” I smile wider. “I went to First Presbyterian of Santa Barbara last week on fourth street
Scott sees my dilemma and when the old bagpipe walks away, he comes over and asks what happened. I tell him.
“I was trying to think of something nice to say, like maybe God was giving her a tour of his homes before she went to see him.” I shrug.
“You should have told her ‘and it’s only February.’” He’s right.
2:17 PM Notes to Self
The Farkel family takes up two pews. My parents and my brother are at the far end of the second and I am at the other sitting next to my cousin. We rise to sing an anthem.
I wonder if anyone can smell the Margaritas on our breath. Probably. I fidget and write notes while interesting things are mentioned. Occasionally, I glance at my brother with a raised brow to indicate I’m onto something, then he mouths “what” and I mouth “never mind”. The minister has glared at me three times, she knows what I am onto, but she has no idea what I am on! [smirk]
3:14 PM The Reception & Random Conversations
Look at all these cookies! Wow. This is a great spread. Oh and look, ginger ale punch with orange juice, why that would just make me puke.
“Scott, go get me a cup of orange juice.”
“Fuck you, get your own.” He snacks on a cookie.
My cousin Keith says, “I’ll get you one Leigh.” I smile appreciatively.
I have ditched the guestbook by the pictures. (I forgot to tell anyone, I am going to get scolded for sure)
Aunt Judy tells Scott that she’d like him to room with Keith and she’ll foot half the bill. We tell her we’ll think about it. I am under the impression that we have a suite at the Marriott. I am very wrong.
My brother, mother and the kid are laughing too much. Singing “if you wanna be happy for the rest of your life get yourself an ugly wife…” I don’t know why but it’s downright embarrassing. This is a funeral reception God Damn it.
Scott and I agree that we should come to funerals in Santa Barbara
I follow my Father outside to watch him smoke and bask in the second hand moment. (I don’t smoke in front of family)
“Daddy, we shouldn’t be having such a good time, it’s just not right! We’re embarrassing ourselves and the rest of the family.”
“Damn it Leigh, it’s not a funeral. It’s a memorial to Aunt Betty, a celebration of her life.” He waves his hand like a grand reception is behind him. I start laughing and fall a part at the seams. My father is never animated or dramatic.
“Now that you all know I’m writing stories about you, you’re just going to get worse. Each occasion is going to be strewn with hysterical and embarrassing moments trying to top the last. I should have never told you.” He laughs and takes a drag of his cigarette.
4:35 PM There was Something in the Cookies
We are not at the Marriott, we are at the Sandpiper Lodge. A motor lodge from the 1950s. “How much was the suite?” I ask.
“$130 bucks, why?” my mother tells me.
“We’re at a crack motel, great.” I nod my head and purse my lips. My parents laugh. Yes, life is one long laugh track for the Farkels.
My mother unpacks her two travel bags. She pulls out a carton of Winston 100 cigarettes. We are only staying over one night and ironically, the suite is a non-smoking room. The room has grass turf for carpet, a king size bed and an adjacent room attached with two double beds. One television. “How does your room compare to our room?” Scott asks the Kid (Keith).
“Well, it’s got a bathroom too, it has a king size bed” he is cut off by Scott.
“No, I mean how does it compare?”
“It’s got a desk too, um, I think the closet space is on the other side instead of,”
“No, what Scott means is, in comparison, which room is better.” I interrupt him. The concept of comparison cannot be explained, he continues to give schematics of the lay out and I walk out of the room while he is talking, Scott left a long time ago. Scott retrieves a phone book from the drawer to find another hotel.
“Leigh, while he’s doing that you know what to do.” She dictates.
“Find a bar, got it. Must get drunk before dinner.” I say.
“How’d you know?” She says with motherly pride.
4:45 PM “Yes, this is Joseph, do you have any room at the Inn ?”
My family is very giddy today. While Scott looks or an alternate hotel he thumbs through the phonebook.
“Dumbwaiter is in here. You think if I call and just say ‘Dumb Waiter’ and hang up they’ll get it?” This has everyone but me in stitches. I’m wondering what was in the cookies, perhaps someone mixed in their cancer medication?
“Husband for hire, what do you think that’s all about?” We give our various explanations, all of which seem to be themed to cheap disco music.
“I’m going to call the Ramada Inn.” He decides.
My fathers says, “Tell them you’re Joseph and ask if they have any room at the Inn .” He falls back onto the bed and laughs. I cannot remember him ever acting this way and I get the giggles too.
After the Inn rejects Joseph, my brother decides to call the nearest Motel 6. To which my father says, “Tell them to leave the light on for you.” More giggles ensue. Scott handles the business of getting another room, it turns out they have one left but its smoking.
“Mom, Dad, and then we could go smoke your whole carton of cigarettes, let’s go!” My mother calls back the Motel Six and very professionally gets the name of the front desk person and says they’ll call right back after she speaks to her husband. After menial debating, they agree on the motel room.
She packs up her belongings and the carton of cigarettes and the four of them trot over to the motel to get the room. Upon returning, they have Keith all my Aunt to explain they have a room.
“Yes, we got another room, it’s right next door at Motel Six.” He tells his mother. She is asking him questions and he is stuttering. We’re not sure what the problem is so my mom demands the phone so she can speak to my Aunt.
My Aunt says, “he’s suppose to articulate for himself.”
My mother replies, “well apparently he can’t so, here’s the deal.” Scott, Keith and I are going to share the suite. My parents and I are going to
5:35 PM The Farkel Family Has Reached a New Low
Ran out of time to find a bar before the six o’clock dinner. Frantic, I suggest we just slug a couple down beforehand. My parents are all about it. We walk into a Vons which is conveniently located in the same parking lot as the Denny’s diner we are about to eat in with a dozen or more elderly churchgoers who loved my Aunt Betty.
“That way,” I say pointing toward the liquor section.
“I know where I’m headed.” My mother scoffs at me. My father is following at rapid pace. We tally down the aisles at the selection. No chilled wine, this does not deter us. We pick out two four packs of small bottled wines. White for my parents, red for myself.
We pay at the cashier and head back to the car. “How do we do this?” My mother asks.
“We find a parking spot where no one will find us, then we drink. Daddy, remember to take out the car keys, that way you can’t get a DUI. Jeez, weren’t you guys ever teenagers?”
“No.” The whole afternoon has seemed like a Cheech and Chong sitcom. My Dad ambles the car around the parking lot looking for the perfect spot.
“Park by the handicap, whoever is coming out of the restaurant will take a long time.” I tell him, we laugh. He parks right next to the restaurant. “Um, Daddy, I think you’re going to blow our cover.” I say. He turns off the car, takes the keys out of the ignition. My mom passes out the alcohol. I have run out of my cigarette brand and my Daddy gives me one of his. I have a cigarette in one hand and a bottle of cheap merlot in the other.
“Jesus Leigh, whatever you do don’t smile tonight.” My mom says.
“What’s wrong with my smile?”
“It’s purple.” We laugh again.
“I think we’ve hit a new low guys.” I tell them, my father swigs down the last of his mini-chardonnay. My mom has not finished her first.
“No, Leigh, we hit a new low when we checked into Motel 6.”
“Is this what has become of us, Mom?” I finish my mini-merlot.
“You two are done already, God.” She says.
“Pass the next round.” I say, my dad and I crack ours open, put the bottles on the floor. My brother pulls up into the parking lot.
“Shit, throw a sweatshirt on them, hurry up before he sees.” I cover the evidence, drop my cigarette out the crack in the window and start whistling.
My brother walks up to the car, sees a mini-bottle of wine in my Father’s hand and starts to shake his head, “The diner has a full bar.” He mumbles.
We break for the restaurant.
Captain’s Log February 25, 2007
10:22 AM Hotel Room
Heading back to Los Angeles
1:00 PM Door of my apartment
There is an eviction letter on my door.
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