The Hillbilly Family Trip is fortified with bones of contention.
Upon arrival at the hotel, Farmer H pulled up to the front of the building, under the archway, and stopped. I waited for him to get out of A-Cad. Imagine my surprise when he said HE was waiting for ME to get out.
"What do you mean, ME get out?"
"I'm letting you out at the door."
"I am not the one checking in. You always do that."
"I'm GOING to do that. You can get out and wait for us, and we'll bring in the stuff."
"You NEVER do that. You always park, go in, get the room number, and come back out. Sometimes we drive around to park closer to where our room is, and go in a closer door. You NEVER haul everything to the desk and ask for the room."
"HM. I ALWAYS take the stuff in. Why come back to the car?"
"Well, I'm not going in to stand by myself. I've ridden for 10 hours, and I'm in no mood to hang around. I want to go straight to the room when you get it."
"All right. Have it your way." Farmer H gave his condescending laugh. He drove down to the next-to-last parking spot. Then we got out, and he and The Pony grabbed our luggage from A-Cad's rear.
"You're taking it in NOW?"
"Yes, HM. That's how we always do."
I'd had enough of Farmer H's shenanigans. YOU try being trapped in a car with him for 10 hours, sweaving across America's Heartland. On the walk to the front door, under the archway, I had ample time to tell The Pony:
"Oh, he ALWAYS does it this way, huh? Not when I'M with him. Last time I went with you guys was to get your very special award (absolutely NOT a leg lamp) in April. As I recall, he parked the car across from the front door. Went in. You and I sat in the car, and you took that picture of a goose you saw walking behind the Burger King. THEN your dad came out, told us our room, drove around to the end of the building, parked, and we went in the end door, pulling our suitcases."
Can you believe The Pony didn't want to hear it? I swear. That boy doesn't like to hear the truth, either.
Today, Farmer H and I came back from dropping The Pony off at his camp, enjoying a casino excursion, and having lunch at a BBQ joint. The temperature was 100 degrees, according to A-Cad. My face was flushed, with near heat-stroke blood vessels trying to release their thermal energy to the surroundings, which were hotter than they. Heat does not flow that way.
I thought, perhaps, that Farmer H would drive under the arch, let me disembark, and go park the car. But no. We're talking about Farmer H. He went right back down to the next to last slot in the lot. I was texting my sister the ex-mayor's wife about my winnings.
"Just a minute. Let me finish this."
"Okay. I'll put in my directions to the Natural History Museum."
Farmer H likes to see sights more than Mrs. Hillbilly Mom. He was planning to go there tomorrow. He fiddled with his Garmin, and I finished up my text, then told Farmer H that I was ready to go in.
"You can turn off the car. I'm ready."
"Oh. Do you want me to walk you up?'
Are you freaking kidding me? Farmer H had not even planned to go inside! He decided he was going to some Goodwill stores. So not only did he not let me out in front of the door...he drove me down to the next to last parking space to let me get out and walk in, while he backed up the car and drove BACK past the archway at the front door, on his way to Goodwill shopping.
MRS. HILLBILLY MOM WAS STEAMING!
Literally.
3 comments:
I'd bet Farmer H is full of testosterone, among other things!!
Chivalry is dead. Well, at least for him.
fishducky,
Yes. But at least now there's a Garmin, so when he's asking for directions, he really doesn't KNOW he's asking for directions, but thinks he's controlling technology.
****
Kathy,
Always has been, for him. Let's not forget that even the bed-rest order from my doctor during pregnancy did not mean I couldn't "stand up for a half hour every night and make supper and wash dishes."
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