quarta-feira, 23 de setembro de 2020

Version 2.142

I am still wondering how I forgot to eat dinner this evening. I remember working until 5 PM, then Julian decided he would not let me work, so I took him on a walk. Upon our return, I went upstairs and worked some more. A couple of hours later, it hit me that I had not eaten. 

For the second day in a row, I have worked into the evening. I am trying to make progress toward a Monday deadline, but everything feels like it multiplies at the rate of mushrooms after a good rain. Tomorrow, I will try to slow down. I did eat a can of tuna and drank bone broth, not the most exciting food.

One of the friends that I visited during my vacation is coming to see me in October, which I am happy about. She and I have lots of stories together, like the one time when I went to pick her up at the airport and the radiator of my car broke at the door to the airport, in Houston, TX. I remember her walking so happy toward me, since this was her first outing after retirement, as I looked at her in disbelief, horrified with what had just happened. 

Since I have roadside assistance through my car insurance company, I called them to get a tow truck. I specifically said that I needed a flatbed truck because my car at the time required one, but they sent a different kind. I called again to rectify the issue to no avail. The airport security and the police were telling me I needed to vacate the premisses, but I could not get help to do so.

Finally, a police officer came over to talk to me and my friend. He was very shy, painstakingly so, and I was very riled up and ready to take on the world. I have no idea where these moods of mine come from, but they do. He gave me the business card of a man that had a flatbed tow truck, who I called and the man showed up. His name was David, my friend reminded me this weekend, and he was in his sixties.

David arrived and I went to the back of my car to get the hook to connect the front of the car to the cable. Then he told me that someone needed to steer the car and so I hoped in it and steered it into the flatbed as he pulled the car onto it. I got out of the car in my flip-flops, with a sense of accomplishment on my face, and this woman looks at me with her jaw dropped because I can steer a car into a flatbed truck in flip-flops. Then David commented how impressed he was with me.

My friend and I got into the cabin of the flatbed and sat next to David. Since I am short, I went in the middle, right next to him. It was a surreal conversation because he is a Trump supporter and this took place a few months right after Donald Trump got into office. The portion of the conversation that is still vivid in my mind is that David mentioned that he had a former boss who liked to take the employees to strip bars. 

Now, I have no problem with strippers or talking about strippers, but David was not attracted to strippers, which he felt the need to let me know. One thing that I dislike, though, is when men badmouth strippers, so I tend to defend them, which I did. My friend, who mostly stood quiet, tugged at my arm and tried to shut me up for fear that the Trump supporter would kick us out given my blatant disagreement with the man over strippers and other issues. 

The most tense part of the conversation happened when he asked me where I was born and, after I answered, he told me that Trump did not like foreigners and could try to kick me out of the country, so I'd better watch it. "I am American," I said, raising my voice. I ain't going anywhere and if anyone tries to kick me out, I'll raise hell, which I was doing come to think of it.

Our trip back to Bellaire from Bush International Airport took over an hour through dense traffic and there was never a dull moment, but the ebb and flow of the conversation landed us on what is the best place to get barbecue in Houston. David was very keen that I try his favorite restaurant, God knows why. 

We  finally arrived at my mechanic and David asked me if wanted to write my credit card number on a piece of paper that he would process the payment later.  I declined the offer and asked to speak to the administrative assistant over the phone to giver her the number. That I said no to the offer also seemed to impress him. 

Finally, we were done and ready to say goodbye. I was so ecstatic that, not only did I thank him profusely, I also gave him a hug, which left a puzzled look on his face, but I was on a roll. If it were today, he could sue me for sexual harassment over a hug. I locked my car and dropped off the keys in the mechanic's after-hours box and we called an Uber to take us home. 

Thinking about this adventure now is funny, but at the time it was a big hassle. I hope David has not died of Covid-19.

2 comentários:

  1. Pensei que no fim a moral da história fosse que por estes dias nâo poderia ter acontecido irem as duas mais o David na cabine do reboque por causa do distanciamento. Mas afinal (como sempre) a linha final surpreende por ir mais além. Então quer dizer, o David também é um desses Trump supporters que são pessoas decentes?
    Engraçado aqui em PT julgo que ninguém pensa no eleitorado do Trump dessa forma. Só pensamos como é possível não verem o que ele é.

    1. Ele era, e espero que ainda seja, uma pessoa muito boa. Ainda cuidava da ex-mulher, que tinha doença de Alzheimer, e também tomava conta de um jovem mexicano. O que é bastante estranho nos apoiantes de Trump é que muitos são mesmo excelentes pessoas, sempre prontos a ajudar os outros. A coisa mais triste de Trump é mesmo que pessoas tão boas tenham caído na esparrela de acreditar nele.


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