When I catch a cold, I do what most rational minded people do...I rack my brain to figure out WHO gave me the cold so I can assign blame and then hunt them down and destroy them. Sort of like the president vs. the terrorists policy only more effective.
I must admit, I could get used to sleeping for 12 to 16-hours per day. Unfortunately, I’m not a bass guitar player. Plus, my debtors do not accept pleasant telephone conversation or poetry as a form of payment.
Men tend to act like little kids when they're sick. I’m proud to say that I’m NOT a big baby when I catch cold. I simply bite the bullet, stare down the cold, keep a stiff upper lip and then I cry uncontrollably.
Much of the time I lie in a corner in the fetal position screaming for my mommy. I become quite irritable and I beg for hot sponge baths…even from total strangers.
After a full recovery, a few of my writer friends insisted that it was time for our annual Christmas get-together. They also informed me that it would skew a little differently this year. This season it would be a night out on the town for, what they called:
“Trailer Park Christmas”
I’ve never heard of a trailer park Christmas, so I quickly informed them that I do not own a wife-beater or jean shorts. Apparently it’s an evening filled with simple fun, mischief and inappropriateness…ala Uncle Eddie from National Lampoon’s Vacation.
Translation: A bunch of misbehaving writers could potentially be kicked out of several establishments on this particular December evening.
The culprits in attendance for our outing included me, Amanda, Rich, Todd and Marie.
As a side note, before anyone dispatches an irate email accusing me of holding stereotypical preconceptions toward trailer parks, it’s important to note that I did NOT coin the title of our night on the town.
I’ve known many fine people who lived in trailer parks and do not subscribe to blanket notions toward the many, based on the actions of a select few. (As seen on the award winning television program, Cops.)
For that matter, I hold absolutely no opinion toward anyone who has relations with their first cousin or those who suffer from multiple dentifrice anomalies. I’m also quite empathetic to people who scrape by on a budget yet have three satellite dishes and habitual gambling problems.
In all honesty, I’m envious of the 155-inch plasma television parked in the living room of some trailers-- the television costs more than the trailer and weighs more than any of their grown children, who subsequently also live in the trailer.**
**Note: Presumably a double wide
Now that I think about it, anyone who has a television which weighs enough to practically tip over their residence while living under the exhilarating potentiality that they might be annihilated at any moment by a tornado are my kind of people! Plus, they usually have a lot of beer.
Back to Trailer Park Christmas…Our first stop came at 4:30pm. Dinner at the Texas Cattle Corral. Rich and Amanda, admittedly, LOVE this joint for one reason only…they love the hot dinner rolls and cinnamon butter.
I politely pointed out that I love Taco Supremes and Gorditas but I don‘t care to host a Christmas get together at Taco Bell. Rich quickly reminded me that no one in our circle is normal. Touché.
This reminded me that I’ve been putting off adding an item to my New Year’s Resolution list for far too long..."Move to a remote cave in Afghanistan."
Fast FUN FACT…
Question: WHO eats dinner at 4:30pm??
Answer: About 500 people at the Texas Cattle Corral.
We stepped into an atmosphere filled with blaring country music, crying babies, obnoxious little kids, walkers, tank tops, several women who forgot their bras, flip flop adorned feet and some guy wearing a t-shirt with a giant candy cane emblazoned across the front with the following caption:
“Jolly Old Saint Lick”
He further accessorized this snappy/smart outfit by looking like a serial sex offender and he wore a camouflage Santa hat.
Since reservations are not required at the Screaming Baby, Dinner Roll Emporium & Cattle Corral, it took us only 37-minutes to be seated.
While we waited, I observed a teenage guy and girl who served as host & hostess. Judging by, what they likely thought to be, subtle co-worker interaction, these two crazy kids clearly could not wait to run to the back room on their break and have unbridled teenage animal sex.**
**Note: You'd be amazed at how many search engine keyword “hits” my site receives simply by my using a term such as “animal sex.” I’m sure Jolly Saint Lick will bring in some hits as well.
Since I’d never visited the Texas Capital Punishment, Slaughter House, Dinner Roll Factory & Pistol Firing Range, I put my trust in Rich and Amanda’s appetizer suggestions.
Knowing that I was about to eat an entire cow, I was pleasantly surprised to hear that the appetizer list offered a selection of fresh veggies.
The platter overflowed with an abundance of garden delights…all encrusted in about 15-layers of deep-fried batter with several bowls of ranch dressing and melted cheese.
After dinner, we shared a table full of desserts when the inevitable conversation shift occurred... initiated by (no surprise) one of the girls.
Marie: So, what’s everyone’s favorite Christmas memory?
This is a prime example as to why Marie never keeps a boyfriend. I thought we were simply going to eat, drink, act like children and throw-up at the end of an inappropriate evening.
If Marie or Amanda became drunk enough to reveal a pair of candy cane striped thongs after a few drinks, I'd consider it a shining star atop the proverbial Christmas tree!
Conducting a Martha Stewart/Hallmark Channel memory lane flashback was nowhere on my agenda. Nonetheless, Rich, who was already drunk, chimed in first:
Rich: Waking up when I was 9 years old to the brand new bike that I'd wanted forever!
Me: Shut up. All of you, please shut up...I'm begging.
Marie: Awww. That’s sweet Rich….Jim, don't be a f#*%^ng Grinch!
Amanda: Mine was when I was in college. Before we’d all go our separate ways for the holiday; me and my girlfriends would always open a few bottles of wine and do a sleep-over the week before Christmas and exchange gifts.
Todd: (interrupting) Was there any nudity or confused college girl bi-sexual experimentation?
Amanda: Do you EVER have sex Todd?
Todd: I'm married...what do YOU think?
Me: I think Todd poses a valid question. Is there something more that you're hiding from us in your Christmas memory? Most importantly, do you possess any pictures of your thinly disguised college Christmas "get together?"
Marie: Todd, what’s YOUR favorite Christmas memory?
Todd: Sitting around the fireplace as a family. We’d sip hot chocolate and listen to old Christmas records while playing Monopoly until mom and dad tucked us into bed as we anxiously waited for Santa Claus. (longing sigh) Those were the days!
Awkward silence/skepticism among the table
Todd: (breaks into hysterical laughter) I’m kidding! I had crazy sex all night on Christmas eve a few years ago before I married Melissa.
Amanda: THAT’S your fondest memory??
Todd: Absolutely! Oh, we DID have a Joe Cocker Christmas CD on in the background. And, I video taped the entire night!
Me: He's telling the truth...I've seen it.
Rich: Was it with Melissa?
Todd: Of course not. I don’t want to participate in a sex tape involving Melissa. I can see her naked anytime.
Amanda: Yet, I'll bet you still don't.
Me: How, exactly, are you still married?
Todd: She loves my charm.
My favorite Christmas memory was when I got my first car. Primarily because I could slip away from get togethers with crazy distant relatives anytime I wanted.
After dinner I'd politely excuse myself and drive away as though I'd just pulled a bank heist.
My dad used to become irritated, specifically because I didn't take him with me.
In retrospect, my experience at the Cattle Corral was very good. I enjoyed my steak and, as an added bonus, we were served by a friendly young woman named Holly.
Amanda and Marie didn’t like Holly too much but I can’t remember when I’ve received such outstanding service in a restaurant. Todd and Rich agree with me on this.
I filled out three comment cards praising Holly’s outstanding server abilities, her winning attitude and cheerful smile. I snapped a cell phone picture of her:
 |
| Holly! Such a lovely smile and The BESTEST server in the world!! |
This reminds me of when I was a kid and my redneck uncles used to exchange gifts at the family gathering on Christmas day. They’d give one another, and I’m not making this up, a carton of cigarettes which they'd purchased en route to the family gathering.
Nothing says Happy Holidays quite like giving the gift of emphysema. Plus, it’s especially meaningful to receive a gift with a personal message from the Surgeon General plastered across the side.
Venturing in separate directions, once inside the Wal Mart, I headed for the obvious aisle...the liquor section.
I suppose that since the fine folks at Wal Mart figured that the Greater New Orleans area lacked adequate alcohol availability in its 5-thousand bars, a gigantic discount liquor section was needed.
I purchased a bottle of vodka, a 12-pack of Miller High Life, Gummie Lifesavers and a Santa hat before meeting our group back at the front door.
Next stop…something festive. We decided that we would include a traditional holiday stop on our night out, so we visited City Park.
For those who are unfamiliar, in addition to being a prime rendezvous point for those who connect on Craig's List "Casual Encounters," City Park is home to an enormous, self guided, tour of Christmas lights and decorations. It’s called Celebration In The Oaks.
Because it's New Orleans, obviously, alcohol is readily available for purchase. We simply brought our own...trailer park style!
Now that I think about it, I suppose they don't call it "Christmas In The Oaks" because attaching a title with religious connotations to a large public event would incite several public "watch-dog" groups who might line the park's board of directors against a wall and summarily execute them.**
**The preceding was a paid 527(s ) political action committee announcement for Pat Robertson
Among the elaborate decorations, you’ll find hundreds of thousands of breathtaking lights carefully strung from the majestic hundred year-old oak trees. The magical twinkling light show looms high above as young couples, children, families and five drunken writers stroll beneath.
We decided it best not to defile Unmentionable Holiday/Celebration In The Oaks with our “trailer park” outing. That is, until I spotted a highly inebriated gentleman standing in front of the park wearing a t-shirt with a Confederate flag sprawled across the front and a message which read:
“Git Er’ Done!!”
As an added holiday bonus, he was singing a Styx song to himself.
We gave him a beer and invited him to join us for a stroll through the Christmas display and soon talked him into climbing one of the trees while wearing my Santa hat. I requested that, once he reached his perch on a lower branch, he should loudly belt out the timeless holiday classic...“Oh, Christmas Tree.”
We quickly discovered that City Park officials apparently do not enjoy this song as much as we do since they firmly suggested that we leave.
I find myself wondering how our new friend got down from that tree? Most importantly, I lost my Santa hat! We took the kiddie train toward the entrance, guzzling down our Miller High Life along the way as we sang a selection from the Nutcracker.
Next destination…Our final stop for the evening. We unanimously figured that the best place to exchange our Trailer Park Christmas Extravaganza Secret Santa gifts was West Virginia. Since none of us could scrape together $4-thousand dollars for cab fare, we settled on a seedy little bar/pool hall in a fringe area of New Orleans East.
This was a good idea for about 6-minutes. It seems that not everyone in our group understood seedy pool hall/bar protocol as it relates to open discussion of certain topics.
As Amanda and I ordered a round of drinks for the table, all attention in the bar rapidly focused on Rich, Marie and Todd, who were engaged in animated disagreement about a musical number in the Broadway production of "Camelot."
I believe Rich was belting out a few lines from one of the musical numbers.
After assuring the skeptical, no-nonsense patrons that Rich and Todd, in fact, have numerous sexual encounters (with women) attention slowly drifted away from our little group.
We began filling the bar table with our Secret Santa gifts which included:
- An assortment of nail polish
- A three pack of lipstick
- Gummie Lifesavers
- A Chia Pet
- A New Orleans Saints Snuggie
- A package of Trojan Condoms
Marie quickly pointed out that there were six items on the table, I quickly pointed out the most important observation...in looking at the items, it's clear that everyone at our table is clinically insane.
Before going to the bar to order a round, Rich snatched the condoms away and placed them in his bag. He'd accidentally tossed his personal purchase on the table.
I was asked to give a toast as the five of us lifted our shots high:
"Here's to Rich's safe sex choices and to good friends and good times. Through laughter, tears and joy, we're all in this complicated, yet simple world together...until I can figure out how to kill each of you and get away with it."
It decidedly was NOT your traditional Christmas party, but it was time well spent with friends...my extended, dysfunctional family. A gift which can't be purchased...not even at Wal Mart.
Wherever this holiday finds you, I wish you a peaceful, safe and Happy Christmas!
Author's Note: Transportation was provided by several Pakistani cab drivers and the New Orleans public transportation system. Drinking and driving is not our style...it's more fun to be drunk in front of an audience. Hehehe...I mean, Ho Ho Ho. (no offense to Marie)
