Good Morning Jane Goodall Wherever You Are,
Once in a great while the clouds part, the rain ceases, and a big ol’ rainbow shines over me providing warmth and contentment. While short lived, it gives reason to pause and remember not everything that happens to me is bad, sad, or ugly….or mostly anyways.
Oscar Wilde said: Some cause happiness wherever they go; others whenever they go.
The above was never so evident as it was last evening. Instead of my usual trip to ‘Curmudgeon Corner,’ I attended a little soiree’ offered by my friend Cush. For all the grief he takes from me and the other drunks swilling beer at the bar, he mostly shrugs it off rarely taking it personally. I find this attribute to be rare, particularly among ‘red necked’ Teamsters who typically will break a beer bottle with one’s face rather than take harmless ribbing.
Earlier in the week I asked Cush if it would be alright if I offer up one of my “Pot Pipes” for a small gathering at his place. The idea of course was to spotlight the pipe’s charm and functionality. When I arrived I rang the doorbell but nobody came to the door, so I rang it again this time in rapid succession…., nothing nada! So I clutched the pipe and walked around to the back of the house hoping to see somebody…..anybody!
As it usually is the backdoor was open so I walked in warning anyone within earshot I was in the house. As I looked around I found it odd that all the furniture, coffee table, and countertops were covered in plastic drop cloths including the front room carpet. All were securely tapped in overlapping seams keeping them in place. Then I heard men laughing and clamoring up the basement stairs.
This is where it got weird. I mean weirder than above!
Reaching the top of the stairs Cush emerged first followed by five other men all of which averaged 250 lbs wearing nothing but a towel. If I didn’t know better it appeared as if they all just got out of the steam room, but there was no telltale sign of moisture so only God knows what they’d been doing. It was clear Cush didn’t expect to see me as he no doubt forgot I was coming, so when he got to the top of the stairs he turned bright crimson. Stunned he made me take a solemn vow to never reveal what was happening and would allow me to observe should I wish to. So without hesitation I promised to keep silent…..
You realize of course I lied.
The Teamsters removed their towels and sat in more or less a circle. Like grooming monkeys they sat face to back with each man assigned to shave the back of the man in front and then use the towel to clean off the excess shaving cream. I felt nauseous.
“Magic Markers” of all colors were heaped in one of Mrs. Cush’s (noticeably absent) ceramic bowls with each Teamster to take what colors needed and proceed to doodle anything including stick figures, graphic text, or simply balloons on the back of the man they’d just shaved. This went on for more than an hour and was surprised by the drawing skills of a few of them.
What put me over the top was when each man (still naked) rested their respective backs on the upraised knees and shins of the man behind them extending both arms and resting both hands on the shoulders of the man in front.
It was plain to see this was well rehearsed and not the first time this maneuver was executed. But when they began singing “Kumbayah” swaying left and right I actually threw up in my mouth. Not wishing to have my pipe soiled by these…ah hem…”Teamsters” I didn’t need to see anymore and left! I honestly don’t know what transpired after that. I really don’t want to know!
That said, I’ve had nightmares ever since and only hope this accounting serves as some sort of catharsis!