My brain is still working in the
background to figure out the next steps for Maddie and Spence, but at the
forefront are a couple of experiences from my misbegotten (actually wasn’t) youth
which jumped from the depths just yesterday.
I was talking to a couple of
people at the Senior Center and one of them told me to go home and have three margaritas.
I responded that I couldn’t drink tequila because I once got sick on it. I also
can’t drink rum or strawberry hill. Once of the women knew what strawberry hill
was and laughed. This led me to regale them with the following experience.
Long ago when John and I were
separated, he took to hanging out at Goofy’s which was a tavern on Ballinger
Way. When we reconnected, I automatically became one of the gang which consisted
of other males and now and then a female or two were included. The guys always
treated me well.
One summer we all went camping in
eastern Washington. Our campsite was at the corner where two roads intersected.
John and one of the other guys, Brad, got seriously drunk Friday night and made
a horrendous amount of noise. I cannot now remember if the ranger came to our
campsite that night or if he just let us know the following morning he received
a lot of complaints.
John and Brad were both very
hung-over the next morning and I demanded Brad give me equal time no matter how
he felt. So, he walked me into town to the local bar and I began to drink strawberry
hill. I was a cheap and easy drunk so it didn’t take much. By the time I was
verging on drunk, a young cowboy came into the tavern. It was obvious he was a
cowboy because he was wearing a cowboy hat, cowboy boots and one of those belt
buckles.
Well, I was just drunk enough to
make an ass out of myself. I, fortunately, don’t remember everything I said and
did, but I know I made the very young man uncomfortable. I do remember saying
things like, “Is your horse outside? I want to ride your horse.”
Brad was eventually able to drag
me away from the cowboy and the tavern. I was seriously drunk. He managed to
get me back to the campsite to my sleeping bag and I passed out.
I don’t remember this part either,
but there were a couple of other females with us that weekend. They thanked me
(sarcastically) later for driving away an entire truckload of men. They’d
stopped at the stop sign and were flirting with the women when I suddenly sat
up, vomited up all that strawberry hill and passed out again. The truckload of
men immediately left.
I didn’t feel so good the remainder
of that day, but John was PISSED. He was so pissed, he barely talked to me the
rest of the weekend. I was his wife and as such, he expected a certain type of
behavior and I had really crossed the line. I have to admit that hurt my
feelings, but it also made me angry.
The rest of the crew could tell
how pissed John was and Brad was kind enough to take me aside when John wasn’t
looking and tell me more or less that what’s good for the gander is good for
the goose. The gang didn’t think any less of me for my little escapade but I
think they might have thought John was a bit of an ass.