You Can’t Drink All Day if You Don’t Start in the Morning (6 page)

“She didn’t have a good bingo,” I heard the woman at the next table say to her friend while nodding in my direction. “Not good at all.” God, wouldja let it go already?

On the other hand, the relief that play could continue, thanks to my superbad bingo, was almost palpable.

How was I to know they were playing “the letter
L
” game? Afterward, I was much more careful, finally squealing when I successfully won a flashlight in “the letter
X
” game, my first win ever at bingo.

Afterward, my mama and I enjoyed a very nice turkey and mashed potato lunch for a buck fifty. It occurred to me as I was describing the lunch to my husband later that hanging around my new peeps had changed my speech a bit.

Seniors always describe food in such terms as “I had a nice Oreo with some very nice milk today.”

It’s a little
Cuckoo’s Nest
sounding but harmless enough.

As my mama and I were leaving, our former seatmate said, “Psssst” and pointed at me. I walked over.

In a whisper that told me that, for whatever reason, she had warmed to us and wanted to do something nice, she told
me that the Moose Lodge across town had free bingo and chicken salad sandwiches every fourth Thursday if we were interested.

“It’s a nice chicken salad,” she said. “They don’t use too much mayonnaise.”

I smiled at her. “From your mouth to God’s ears,” I heard myself say. Whoa. Where did that come from? I was one week of senior bingo from saying that I sure loved “that a-Cissy and a-Bobby” on PBS reruns of
The Lawrence Welk Show.

On the way out again, I noticed a poster on the wall announcing that Tuesday was corned beef and cabbage day. There was even a festive note at the bottom with a little flowered asterisk that promised “Sadie’s bringing the soda bread!”

I don’t know who the hell Sadie is but I am all in on corned beef and cabbage day. It is one of my favorites. Although sometimes cabbage does give me gas if it’s not cooked long enough.

Strangely, my mom wasn’t nearly as sold on all this as I was, and this was a problem since I needed her to be my “old people’s lunch beard,” so to speak.

Yes, I was only a distressingly few years away from full eligibility to play and dine, but that might as well be a million years when you see the chance of $1.50 quiche and salad (beverage included!) slip between your fat fingers.

“Can’t we go back today?” I whined one Wednesday. “It’s corn chowder day and Sadie’s making the cornbread.”

“I dunno,” my mom said. “It’s OK, but I don’t want to miss my stories.”

“It’s just one story,” I said. “It’s
The Young and the Restless
, and we all know that Victor is going to spend at least the next two months chewing the scenery over his dead trophy wife and cutting himself. So! Who wants chowder?!”

“No, I’m not in the mood,” she said, settling in for another hour with Victor and company. “You go ahead and tell me all about it.”

“Ack! With the complaining!” I said, and flicked the air with my hand like I’d seen Sadie do a dozen times by now. You can learn a few things from these transplanted Yankees, for sure.

“Well then, go to the school. I’m sure Soph would love for you to eat with her class.” She was pushing me toward the door with a broom handle at this point.

“Some beard you are!” I pouted. “Oy vey!”

The truth was that since the stock market crashed, taking with it our savings, Soph’s college fund and, most important of all, my supersecret Dollywood vacation fund, I had been rethinking eating with my kid every so often at school.

Frankly, the school lunches were $3 for adults and you didn’t even get bingo or a beverage. Screw that.

Plus, at the senior center, they let you talk. At Soph’s school, often as not, we were subjected to something horrible called “silent lunch,” which is just the most unnatural thing in the whole world. You can’t ask kids not to talk during lunch. The last time I went, we were all subjected to the dreaded “silent lunch” because one little boy in the class had pooted that morning and then bragged about it.

“You mean we’re sitting here not able to even say ‘Pass the pseudo honey-mustard sauce that contains neither honey nor mustard’ just because that kid over there farted?”

“Yeah,” said Soph. “And stop talking. You’re just going to make it worse.” I felt like we were in Oz—the HBO maximum-security prison, not the Technicolor place with the weird paving job.

The next day, I was back at the Senior Center, playing the bingo and winning yet another flashlight. Prizes weren’t as good as when we’d first started going and it was either the flashlight or a can of Del Monte fruit cocktail—no sugar added, so really, what the hell was the point?

Although winning was fun, it wasn’t the highlight of the day. No, no. That came when I returned our bingo cards back to a plastic box and the sweet old man collecting the cards looked up at me from his wheelchair and grinned.

“You know somethin’?” he said with a twinkle in his eyes. “You look just like Meg Ryan!”

“Thanks!” I said, practically curtseying and wondering if it would sound braggy if I told him that lately I’d been getting more Marg Helgenberger.

“Don’t get too excited,” muttered his lady friend. “He’s legally blind, you know.”

Oh, snap! I wasn’t sure if she was doing the circle-and-spray over her man or if she was just being real with me, but I admired her either way.

Besides, I should’ve figured he was vision impaired when
I noticed he always played on a special card the size of a yoga mat.

Still, it was a sweet thing for him to say and I treasured it. Almost as much as my two flashlights.

• 3–4 cups cooked chicken, cubed
  
• 1 cup chopped celery
  
• 1 tablespoon minced onion
  
• 1 can sliced water chestnuts
  
• 1 small jar pimientos
  
• 1 cup chopped fresh mushrooms
  
• 1 cup mayonnaise (Duke’s, if possible)
  
• 1 tablespoon lemon juice
  
• 1 teaspoon lemon pepper
  

• Topping:
  
• ½ cup slivered almonds
  
• 1½ cups Pepperidge Farm CornBread Stuffing mix
  

Mix everything together in a big bowl and pour into a greased casserole dish. Add almonds to stuffing mix and toss around a bit. Pour on top of chicken salad and bake for about 30 minutes at 350 degrees, covered.

Note: This fabulous chicken salad comes from my friend Mabel Halterman, who knows her way around
the Senior Center and used to live across the street from me. Mabel was one of ten children and she learned how to cook when she was just a sprout growing up in rural Sampson County, North Carolina. She said to remind y’all that this chicken salad is good hot or cold. Serve it with some fresh snap beans and sliced tomatoes in the summer.

Flight attendant: “Good morning, everyone, and welcome aboard OneHotMess Airlines! We hope you’ll enjoy your flight today. In the meantime, those of you who opted for the additional thirty-dollar surcharge for seats with thirty-eight inches of pitch, please relax and enjoy your flight. For the rest of you, well, may God have mercy on your souls.”

Pilot: “Yes, good morning from the flight deck. This is your captain speaking and I want to welcome you aboard. It looks as if we’ll enjoy a beautiful flight with clear skies and stunning views. As we approach the Grand Canyon, those of you who opted for window seats at an additional five dollars will be allowed to see it. The rest of you must pinky-swear promise to close your eyes or risk the additional ten-dollar late “sign-up-and-see” fee. Sneak peekers risk having their
retinas removed by the beefy undercover air marshal presently sitting in seat 4A. Do not mess with him. He once made Steven Seagal cry like a wussy little girl. Really. He did.

“Here at OneHotMess, we not only charge for every checked bag, we also charge $25 for each purse, murse, briefcase, laptop, iPod, and any other portable electronic device you may have brought on board. Additionally, if you are seated in an exit row, you will not only be asked to read the special instructions but also to help push the beverage cart up the aisle as needed. We know that you didn’t volunteer for that row because you give a shit about being helpful in a crash, but that you do like the extra six inches of leg room, so don’t get all haughty.

“If you are found to be acting haughty anyway, you will be assessed an additional $50 surcharge for ‘being kind of an asshole’ on the flight. Also, if you are traveling pregnant, or ‘TP,’ as we say in the industry, please be advised that you will be assessed a fee for smuggling a second passenger on board. At OneHotMess, we do not condone seat-sharing and you will be charged accordingly if you have a recognizable bump. If, upon inspection, we determine that you are not actually pregnant but are, rather, just another victim of too many Applebee’s sizzling blond brownies or a cirrhotic liver, we will cheerfully apologize while at the same time inform you that your extra weight will result in the same fee as if it were a carry-on bag. You also will not be offered any
of the delicious snacks that are customarily offered to our thinner passengers. They are saving fuel; you are not.”

Flight attendant: “Ladies and gentlemen, if you are traveling with small children, please make sure that you have purchased an oxygen mask for them as well. Here at OneHotMess Airlines we recognize that children can be incredibly annoying in general and particularly so on an airplane, and we believe that a lack of oxygen exacerbates this. In a moment, Trixie, the world’s oldest flight attendant, will shuffle her tired ass up the aisle and collect your oxygen-mask money. Please note that the mask itself is rented for $15. The tubing through which said oxygen moves is an additional $15. We suggest that you rent both pieces because they are useless by themselves and will only lead your entire Orlando-based flight crew to double over laughing as you try to gasp air through a mask attached to, well, nothing.”

“Furthermore, at this time, Trixie will be selling seat belts for 75¢ but, please note, in the event of turbulence, that rate will be adjusted to $35.”

Passenger: “May I have an airsick bag? All these add-on fees have made me a bit queasy.”

Flight attendant: “I’m so sorry. Airsick bags are no longer on board because our suddenly-enviro-conscious CEO has decided that they are made of paper and paper comes from trees and therefore, we have stopped providing them so we can go green! Rather like your face. Hmmmm. Here! Use my purse.”

Passenger: “Oh, I couldn’t . . .”

Flight attendant: “Sure you could! Everybody does!”

Passenger: “So that going green thing must be why there is no in-flight magazine?”

Flight attendant: “And they said you looked dumber than a box of hammers when you boarded. You’re right!”

Passenger: “But what about the SkyMall? How will I be able to order the putting green that doubles as a cappuccino maker?”

Flight attendant: “Sir, from now on, you will have to buy your overpriced, weird crap from late-night infomercials just like everybody else.”

Pilot: “Ladies and gentlemen, from the flight deck, I’d like you all to look out on the right side of the airplane and wave to our special OneHotMess Airline priority platinum passengers who have chosen to avoid the dreaded ‘free’ middle seat by simply strapping themselves to the wing. Give ’em a wave, everyone! My wife is out there right now. Hang on, Love Dump. . . . We’re expecting some gnarly tailwinds today. Folks, at OneHotMess Airlines, we don’t have so-called buddy passes for friends and family because, well, that shit costs money. So whenever our friends and family hit us up for discounted or free airfare, we just strap their cheap asses to the wings and most of them arrive alive. Frostbitten, hypothermic, and barely breathing, but alive!

“Ladies and gentlemen, in a moment flight attendants will be dimming the cabin lights so that you will be unable to read any book or magazine you may have brought aboard.
Flight attendants will be coming through the cabin with an assortment of barely used blankets and pillows for those of you who would like a nice snooze during our flight.”

Passenger: “OK, I’d like a blanket and pillow, please.”

Flight attendant: “Certainly! That will be $40.”

Passenger: “Whaaa?”

Flight attendant: “We no longer loan these; you must buy them.”

Passenger: “Buy them? What am I going to do with a blanket and pillow once I get off the airplane?”

Flight attendant: “Are you familiar with the phrase, ‘Daddy, what’d you bring me’?”

Passenger: “Well, of course, but this isn’t exactly a Webkinz. All this price gouging is nuts! Next thing you know, you’ll be charging me to complain!”

Flight attendant: “We
so
didn’t think of that. Thanks! And have a great flight to Vegas!”

Passenger: “But I’m going to Seattle!”

Flight attendant: “You big silly! That’s way farther. Here at OneHotMess Airlines, we tell you where to go!”

Passenger: “Right back at you. . . .”

Flight attendant: “Was that a threat? Was it? Don’t make me call you-know-who in 4A. He will kick your priority gold ass all over this airplane, do you hear me?”

Passenger: “I have to go to the bathroom.”

Flight attendant: “Say please.”

Passenger: “What?”

Flight attendant: “Did I stutter?”

Passenger: “Please. I need to go to the bathroom. Does that cost extra, too?”

Pilot: “Ladies and gentlemen, from the flight deck, I forgot to mention earlier that we have installed pay toilets. You will need $1.87 cents in exact change for each visit to the lavatory. It’s a really annoying amount, we know, but it cuts down on the number of trips. Here at OneHotMess Airlines, we’re sick of you always jumping up and trying to go to the bathroom just as the beverage service begins. Sit your ass down and wait. You should have gone before you boarded.”

Flight attendant: “Ladies and gentlemen, in just a few minutes we will be coming through the cabin with a complimentary beverage service and light snacks. And by ‘light’ I mean ‘imaginary.’ ”