I went away for a couple of days with my parents and sister, back to our beloved casino. There was no big winning this time, dammit, but we still had a great time.
Well, except for my very close call with garlic poisoning at dinner last night, that is. I’m crazy allergic to garlic and get extremely ill if I eat it. Disgustingly, violently, too graphically to discuss ill. I order the one dish on the menu that doesn’t list garlic in the ingredients, and when it comes I take one bite and chomp down on a clove. Which, to my family’s delight, I then spit out in my hand in my moment of panic. There is absolutely no time for couth when faced with that, let me tell you. Dinner was interesting, to say the least.
That leads me to the point of this post – I have irrefutable proof I come by my mental instability honestly. We all joke that we turn into our mothers, but God help me, I think I already am my mother.
I love her dearly, but can be a little “flighty” (her word, not mine). She’s 72, about 5 foot nothing, feisty and nuts. This morning, we’re leaving the hotel. My sister, father and I have most of the bags, my mother is carrying her most precious bag – the one with her doughnuts in it.
We finally get out of the rooms, make it to the bank of elevators, and Mom hits the Up button. My sister “gently” corrects her and she hits the down button. The doors open pretty quickly and Mom walks in.
Now at this time I have my back to the elevator, trying to wrangle my bags to keep one from falling off the other and not drop all my shit all over the floor.
Next I hear my sister yell “MOM” Followed by my father saying “Christ”.
I turn to see both of them basically standing in the closed doors and my sister said “she’s gone!”
Yep. Mom’s off in the elevator by herself. That had to be the fastest frigging elevator I’ve ever seen.
I couldn’t help myself, I had to say, “Well, she has her doughnuts, she’s really all set.” That did not go over well.
The rest of us make it down in another elevator and my mother was down in the lobby, hiding in a corner, waiting to jump out at us. I’m not kidding. Hiding. In. A. Corner.
We get in the car and she leaned over to me and whispered “I never even pushed a button!”
“Well, you pushed down, right?”
“No! I didn’t push anything! I just stood there and it took me to the lobby.”
So, it’s genetic, and I’m doomed.