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February 1, 2006
home and home
COLUMBUS - After a scant two hours' sleep Monday night—I'll admit it, packing my Super Bowl ticket gave me a bad case of Christmas Eve jitters—and after dining twice with family members, I staggered into d'Andre and d'Pam's lovely guest bedroom and face-planted. Turns out White Castles + pizza = an interesting combination in your gastrointestinal tract, sort of a culinary version of water + concrete mix. I couldn't sleep. I tossed and turned for hours, desperately wanting and needing to pass out. And finally, the sweet release of unconsciousness came around 11:30. At midnight, I felt someone's presence in my room and woke up with that adrenalized start you get when you sleepily open your eyes and see some hulking man leaning over you. You know that feeling, right? Right? Wrong. It's just me. Only I know.
I tried to be suave, pantomiming a phone call and affecting my best Southern-Ohio-redneck dialect. "Officer, there's a lahrge nee-grow sneakin' 'round my bedroom."
d ignored me. "I just wanted to wish you a happy Black History Month," he cooed. And then he turned for the door.
"You what?!?"
"Shortest month of the year. 'Night."
Click.
Ha, ha. I finally got to sleep again around 2.
I was with family for a mere 10 minutes before thinking "I've made a horrible mistake." This feeling did not abate. Even when I cherry-pick the relatives with whom I visit, I still have to hear a litany of complaints against those absent. You can't even imagine. Everyone's a victim. Tales of persecution are unremitting, shrill, numbing. I had to keep telling a middle aged women to "use your indoor voice," lest other diners complain. At least I long ago learned to schedule family at the beginning of a trip, so that I can get 'em out of the way and get to the business of enjoying myself. Like, you know, being terrorized in the dark of night.
posted by john at 6:56 AM • permalink