It is 9:25 pm, just finished watching a new cartoon with your cousins, and now I am going to bring in the new year writing to you. 🙂 I promised to share some stories of your auntie and your mommy’s adventures. I chose tonight to share my trip to Boston to see my sister! It was an epic week, with lots of adventure, laughs, and a few freaky stories!
Nine years ago, I was going through some really hard times, I was heartbroken, defeated, and my sister was 1,200 miles away. When life is a mess; a girl simply needs her sister…..So, devastated, and bawling I picked up the phone to hear her voice. By the end of the conversation, your mom being the amazing person she is, had booked me a flight to Boston where she was in college.
First, let me point out that my sibling is brave, courageous and fearless. She had chosen a school in a strange new city, half way across the country (although I begged her to stay closer, she refused…there is that stubborn gene that I spoke about)
I packed a bag and headed to the airport. Let me disclose that I had never flown in a plane, never planned on it, and I was scared to death!!!!!!!! (I don’t have the brave gene she has) The thought of being in a big city, relying on public transportation, welllll that didn’t seem nearly as awesome as it was to your mom! However, I desperately needed to see her face, hear her voice in person instead of a phone, and she would soon have me forgetting about my own dilemmas.
I am already a nervous wreck standing in the ticket line, where they directed me to the correct place to await my flight. I went through security, and in front of me was a man that looked like a terrorist, no joke! He had a backpack and security scanned it and then took the man to another area afterwards…..then I saw him come back out and I was silently praying, please don’t be on my flight, I am scared enough without worrying about the plane being taken down. Sure enough, he boarded my plane……right behind me, and then he was seated in front of me. I am sure if you have your mother’s sense of humor, you find this hilarious, Fidget, but I didn’t find it the least bit funny. I know this is stereotyping but I couldn’t help myself from staring at the man and his turban, his questionable backpack forefront in my mind. (I told you I am irrational lol)
The seats were cramped, inside this tiny contraption they called an airplane. My mind shifted from the man across the aisle and onto certain impending death when we hit turbulence!! My mind was reeling, racing thoughts of I am going to die, I have so much living I still want to do, I knew I should never fly……and then just like that the aircraft righted itself and I breathed a sigh of relief. (I told you I can be a bit extreme) We landed in Atlanta Georgia…….a HUGE airport, like you have to get on these little shuttles to get to your terminal, that kind of huge. Now, with that being said, you should know your aunt has zero sense of direction and I had to ask two or three people directions. I only had 20 minute window to get on my flight and I was freaking out….what if I missed it and I was stuck in atlanta???????? I made it just in time as the flight was boarding. I closed my eyes, laid my head back and prayed I made it in one piece.
The next thing I know I am in Boston airport…I fetched my luggage and waited impatiently for my sister. Then there she was, the face I had been missing for months, the calm in my storm, the “cure all” for my sad heart. Immediately, all the hurt, worries, were all forgotten, the near death experience had been worth this moment!!!!!!! 😉 I grab her and hug her until I was sure that she was real, and not some figment of my imagination. That night we take the subway, and I cannot understand a single thing that the man on the intercom was saying. Thankfully, Sis had mastered translating the heavy accent because I had no clue, might as well been speaking a foreign language to my ears. We exit and begin walking down this tunnel, half the lights were out, the ones that worked were flickering, and let’s just say they were all around CREEPY! I mean I was fairly sure more than one murder had occurred in this place. Then suddenly a bearded, appearing to be homeless man jumps from the shadows shouting, “REPENT NOW OR YOU WILL BURN IN HELL!!!!!” I seriously almost throat punched the guy, I mean WHO DOES THAT!!!!!!! If I had been armed that man would have met his maker, he gave me a dang heart attack. Again, I thought about my impending death in this city but at least I would die happy with my sister.
We decided that we needed ice cream from the local mall……..yeah, I know, Fidget, crazy eating ice cream in blustery cold Boston…When we got outside there was this homeless guy who had followed us there, did I mention, I was sure he could possibly be a homicidal maniac? He continued following us, and asking if he could have a bite of our ice cream? I debated on throwing it at him, like you do a stray dog to get it to leave you alone. I mean did he think we would just give him a bite and then keep eating it? I didn’t know, but this was all very strange to me, and I was more than a little out of my comfort zone. I wasn’t sure whether to run or kick him in the knee cap!!!!!!!! We finally made our way to her dorm, but this wouldn’t be our last run in with homeless/serial killer dude!
We spent that night, staying up way too late, talking about everything that we had missed out on in the passed three months, and just enjoying each other’s company. Now here is the funny part….the dorm room was about the size of a matchbox, and the bed was a VERY skinny twin size bed. This is one of the few times I was grateful that both of us are little. No way in the world could I have slept beside anyone else on that bed, but we were as snug as a bug. I cuddled up to your mommy and I was out in seconds. The next morning she had class so I got to spend the day in the dorms ALONE, while she walked a ridiculous distance to campus.
I was bored out of my mind, and counting the minutes until she returned. There was nothing to do besides watch tv on a minuscule sized television (did I mention I am blind as a bat and had to squint to make out the figures on the screen), there was that or there was sleep. Fidget, you wouldn’t have survived, there was no food in sight…I mean seriously, nothing! I honestly thought about joining the homeless man outside to beg for food at one point….no jokes! I even searched the room for cardboard and a marker…from where I was standing he was fairing better than us. Now your mother can live on just about anything, a few mountain dews, ramen noodles, and other non perishable items (although I am sure she would have enjoyed a good home cooked meal if she had the option). I, on the otherhand, was sure I would die of starvation, I was not accustomed to this “roughing it” kind of life. Then my mind would start processing, oh my goodness what has she been eating to stay alive the passed three months? I chided myself for not paying more attention to whether or not she looked anorexic or borderline malnutrition…I would have to pay more attention when she got back.
I could have went sight seeing or something but I was too scared to leave the little matchbox room! I mean little old me could get lost in the crowd, heck who am I kidding, Fidget, I could LITERALLY get lost in the wal-mart parking lot! Now, your mom has a great sense of direction……me not so much. Ask me some time about our adventure downtown paducah (there are literally like 3 or 4 streets and I got lost)……seriously, remind us to tell you, it is pretty darn funny. Anyways, I found a book or two to read and began turning the pages. I don’t remember the books, so don’t ask, I was too bored to interpret the words, too scared to go outside, and so I sat paralyzed awaiting the end of classes. My mind reeled at the thought of how dang brave or maybe crazy my sister was to make this trek to an unknown land….all alone! All the late nights I had spent worrying for her….well it is a good thing I didn’t know then what I know now or I would have never survived 3 months with her there by her lonesome. No doubt she had made a few friends (that is easy for her) but these people….these people were strange, Fidget.
When someone bumped into you, they didn’t say, “excuse me,” instead they stared you down like it was your fault for being in their way. They talked in an accent that was so thick I might as well have been talking to someone who spoke mandarin. People didn’t open the door for you when you had your hands full, like they did back home. Matter of fact the two idiot boys that lived downstairs (the dorm was co-ed) watched my tiny sister wag all that she owned from the back of a cab up several flights of stairs, without offering to help……I wanted to punch them for being such jerks. I could picture her wrestling her luggage (that was as big and as heavy as her) up that stairwell and I couldn’t help but smile. I know her too well, no way she was going to ask those knuckle heads for help, she would do it herself. I bet she was wiping sweat off her brow and shooting them that sweet southern smile while muttering curse words under her breath. I won’t lie I would have admitted defeat at like stair three. I would have left it downstairs, and made several trips to the main floor wagging arm loads of stuff until my suitcases were empty and only then would I be able to get them up those steps……not your mommy. I guarantee you she manipulated, man-handled, pushed and shoved those bags up all 50 steps…not that she didn’t have problem solving skills like I do but simply to prove to those boys that she could do it….that is the way she is. I would also put money on it that she held her composure the entire time, unlocked her door, shut it calmly behind her before crumbling from exertion onto the bed. I love that about her, the girl has brass!
This time alone gave me time to look around this little place that my beloved sister had called home for three months, and although I had worried relentlessly, and knew I would continue to do so, she had done just fine. She had conquered this land of northerners, impolite people, homeless guys trying to eat her ice cream, and had mastered public transportation. I felt a little sad as I fully recognized that she was really grown up, but I also felt the greatest sense of pride that she was capable to endure this transition. She never failed to amaze me with her resilience, fearlessness, and bravery. I wouldn’t have lasted a day before packing and throwing my luggage over the hand rails, booking a flight back home and that would have been that. But even if Sis was scared, no way she would come right back home….nope, not her style. She would persevere or die trying…..I told you, Fidget, she is stubborn. A key clinked in the door and I debated grabbing anything resembling a weapon but there was nothing besides a GIGANTIC book to hit the intruder with, and I just knew that I wouldn’t be able to throw that far, besides I am a HORRIBLE aim (just ask your mom…another story lol) Thank God, it was my sister and not some maniac because I was utterly defenseless. I smiled at the image of her cute little self. The crazy loon had braved the freezing cold walk to campus with no coat, just a thin sweater. (your nanny would have had a fit telling her she was going to catch pneumonia) Now, here is something else you should know about your mother……she isn’t one to try to blend in, she isn’t one to sway with the latest fashion. I chuckled inwardly as I looked at her in all her country glory. Here she was in the deep north, ariat boots, blue jeans, and a belt buckle….amongst all these schmucks in their jersey shore apparel. I love that she is so confident in herself, so sure of who she is that she doesn’t conform…that is right, don’t even let it cross your mind, Fidget, your mom doesn’t conform. She goes by her own rules, and the only way she does anything is if it is her idea, it is one of my favorite qualities even if it is a trait that has cost me many a good night’s sleep. lol The truth is it also offered comfort to me with my sister out in the vast and crazy world because I knew she would stand by her moral compass, do what she wanted and not what others pressured her to do. The thing with your mom, that you should understand, Fidget, is that what she thinks of herself far surpasses what others think of her. I hope you get this trait, my sweet one, because it will see you through when others let you down.
So, back to the story, she is standing there in all her adorable glory and she says, “Well, what should we get into this afternoon?”
“As long as I am with you, I don’t care but food would be nice at some point?” I said casting a sideways glance at the mini fridge.
“Nothing in there that fancied your taste buds?” She asked with a smirk already knowing the answer. I looked over my sister from top to bottom, yep she had shed some pounds, must feed her asap.
“Ummm negative,” I respond with a giggle. We made our way to the food hall….it wasn’t gourmet, it wasn’t even tasty, but it was sustenance. We ate a few bites of each item we had put on our plates before we both lost our appetites. “What do you do around here for fun?” I questioned.
“Go to school…..there really isn’t crap to do for it to be such a huge city,” she replied, “but we could find somewhere to shoot some pool.” This made a gigantic smile cross your mother’s face as she knew good and well that I sucked at pool but that I was always up for a challenge, yes I got the stubborn gene too. She also knew I could care less if I lost or made a fool of myself because that is just how I am made. Matter of fact, she knew I would be the first to make fun of myself and lack of skills.
“Absolutely, I am down for it…but you know that I am secretly a pool shark, right?” I said trying to maintain a straight face as she nodded and laughed, “I mean I don’t want to beat you too bad or anything. I will take it easy on you.” We both giggled at the ridiculousness of what I was saying because it was all a ruse. I would get my arse handed to me in a game of pool, I would be lucky to get one dang ball to go to it’s home, I may very well injure someone while trying to “break” as the balls fly off the table into the air hitting someone but it sounded like a dang good time to me. Off we went….and we went, we walked and we walked some more. Everything you did there you had to journey across country to get there, I mean allot 1/2 a day of travel no matter where you went. Fidget, did I mention, I hate walking but I took it in stride, pretty proud of myself for not croaking before we got there.
Upon arrival at our destination, I ordered a cold one, before making my way to the pool table to suffer my humiliation. Like a pro, Sis racked the balls or whatever the heck you do when you put the dang balls in the triangle. lol I think back now at how we must have appeared to the onlookers. Two southern girls, miles away from home, we weren’t all dolled up, just in our everyday wear and people were staring. I began to wonder if we had grown a third eye or something. Then I began observing Sis playing pool, after she took a picture of me, I could tell what everyone was looking at. We didn’t have on revealing clothing, we had a tank top under our hoodies, which we had shed because the 2 mile walk had made us hot…but uh hmmm, well when we leaned over to take a shot…let’s just say that our unmentionables were getting noticed. Now, this is going to sound like the start of a bar joke, you know the ones that start with 3 guys walk into a bar….Fidget, this is a true story. I may save this blog for when you are a bit older, but I promise there is no way I could make this stuff up.
Here we were playing pool, laughing, joking, poking fun at my lack of pool talent, minding our own business when….wait for it, Fidget, wait for it…in walk three guys. They make their way to our table, not so subtly, I might add. One was very obviously intoxicated, we called him Patty. He was from Ireland, and I am pretty sure he was in love with us. I don’t remember the names of the other two, but they were from England, and maybe Brazil. We learned they were there on “holiday” what americans call vacation and boy, were they a trip. Us two, very sober sisters, were in for a barrel of laughter. Patty, invited himself to play pool with us, and he kept getting in our face like he was going to kiss us at any moment. I snickered as he hoovered over Sis, and she tried not to gag at the smell of his beer breath. I could see her face begging me to rescue her, but as a sibling you do what your sibling would do if the roles were reversed….and no, I didn’t rescue her. LOL I used this opportunity to get as many shots in as I could to try to win the game of pool while she tried to shake off said Irish dude. Oh, Fidget, don’t give me no lip about it, she would have done the same to me! 🙂 Then the English guy began talking to me, about everything, and anything. I tried to decode his language as he used the word “bloody” often and a few other words that I didn’t typically use during conversation. He was also under the influence of one too many and I tried to fane interest, because I am from the south and that is the polite thing to do……but I can tell you this, I cannot tell you a single word he said because I wasn’t listening! LOL Your mom, being the generous kind, wanted to share her new drunken friend, Patty, with me. (see I told you that she would do the same to me) I knew her ploy as she sauntered, and he staggered back to our table. I shot her a look, THE look that told her she was a brat and I knew what she was up to, which only made her laugh, she’s a punk like that. What she didn’t know was English guy, was just as obnoxious. I had already heard his life story in a thirty minute window. I noted the Brazilian guy was just chilling at the table before his comrades ushered him over, “Great, I thought, just great. Another one to add to our festivities….this should be interesting.” We had ourselves our very own fan club of groupies….they were clinger stage 5, in other words, not easy to get shed of.
Brazil, ended up being just as hammered as the rest of his pals. But he took a liking to our blue eyes. I mean seriously, kept getting right nose to nose with us and just staring at our eyes. “You eyes…sooooooo pretty.” To which we both managed to tastefully reply with a thank you as we laughed way too hard at the absurdity of the moment. We would cast each other a glance, a glare, a grimace and the other one would read what we were thinking before exploding into a fit of laughter. The night continued, with Patty taking the lead of being a foot taller than us, Sis and I struggled to stay upright as his 200 lb frame was constantly using us as a leaning post as he tried to stand and play the game at which he failed even more miserably than me at (that is quite a feat in and of itself). Brazil, would walk up to us randomly telling us how beautiful our eyes were, and England wanted to find true love. Sis and I had only wanted a simple game of pool, but we are roll with the punches kind of girls so we just let it all play out.
We managed to finally shake them (I don’t remember how), and we were on our way out when a short guy, made his introduction to us. As we were walking out the door, we hear a voice say, “Hi, I am Rich.” We were like ok, nice to meet you. To which he retorted, “No, my name is Steve, but when your this short you have to start out with the facts. I am Steve and I am “rich.” Sis and I glanced at each other before letting out a hearty chuckle as we both decided that could go down as one of the greatest pick up lines of all time. We gave the guy props, he was definitely funny, and considerably more sober than anyone we met that night. He politely offered to pay for us a cab. I could tell our minds were analyzing every possible scenario of accepting this, I mean what if Steve asked the cab driver our address somehow, or followed the cab, or a million other crazy alternatives. (I warned you, Fidget, we are over-thinkers)
We politely declined….because we are brilliant like that….. we hadn’t gotten a block from the bar and wouldn’t you know it, the rain started pounding down from the skies, in great big drops, in seconds we were soaked. We both stopped in our tracks, looked back, considering returning to take Steve’s offer for a cab…..then we looked back at each other, knowing full well what had just crossed our minds, and right there, in the middle of Boston we gave in to a fit of laughter. We are ridiculous like that, thinking the same thoughts, and then getting tickled that we were just thinking the same thing. That is the best part about having a sister, at least a sisterhood like we share. We could literally, live the rest of our lives without uttering a word but we could communicate telepathically to one another. It is the language of sisters, and with that being said, we both got the same idea at the exact same moment. We are soaked, we have another 2 miles to walk, there is no getting out of this, no use in fighting it, and simultaneously we began jumping in the huge water puddles that had formed on the sidewalks. Time melted away, no longer were we adults, with grown up problems, no fretting about all the passerby’s questioning our sanity, not a care in the world. At that moment we were two little girls, just enjoying the moment, taking what the universe was throwing at us and making a memory out of it, as if to say in our sassy way, “In your face mother nature, you can’t ruin this night.” We splashed each other, we did the rain dance like Dad used to do, we tilted our heads to the sky our mouths wide open trying to catch the rain drops…….and we laughed harder than I had laughed in a very long time. We sang, “Taying in da rain.” (inside joke) There was no rush in our steps, we just were alive in that moment, allowing all that rain to cleanse us of our worries, doubts, and fears. I can’t say how long we stayed there laughing until our sides hurt as we pointed at one another both of us looking like drowned rats. I am so glad we took a picture because it is one of my favorite memories. I am sure there are a few bostonians that talk about the crazy girls they saw dancing in the rain that November night, and I hope at least one spectator witnessed it.
We had many adventures but I could literally write a book about the events that took place in our mini holiday/vacation. So, I will narrow it down to the highlights of the trip. One day we visited the aquarium, we love animals, making this seem like a great way to spend the day. We paid our admission and entered the aquarium. Close to the entrance was a seal…poor thing was dying of boredom, but it gave us limitless entertainment. It bobbed up and down, up and down, we lovingly gave it the nick knock name of buoy because it looked like a little buoy in it’s aquarium. We made our way to the place where you can have your picture made and of course we had to have our photo taken. I love that picture, I cherish it, for little did we know this would be our only trip, just the two of us before life caught up and occupied our time. Next, we stopped to observe the penguins. Oh, Fidget, I am laughing just revisiting this memory. There were hundreds of penguins, and there was a trainer inside feeding them fish. There were black and white penguins, and then there were penguins that had wild hair, orange, red…all different shades of hair. It came out on either side of their head, making them look pretty hilarious. It wasn’t just their wild hairdo that had us rolling but they did this crazy dance, I am assuming a mating ritual. But in the dance they puffed up their chests, their hair stood straight out and they did this duck and weave movement that was so funny it literally immobilized us. We stood and watched this behavior for a long time, never tiring of this spectacle.
Then, without a word we looked at each other and at the same time began mimicking the dance. Yep, Fidget, right there in a crowd of snooty northerners we ducked, and we weaved, we ducked and we weaved and then we laughed until I thought they were going to call security. We made our way through the watery attraction. We found a GINORMOUS fish to which I made Sis stretch out her arms to look like the fishing tales of how big a fish was…..this was for your nanny the fisher of the family. “It was THIS big.”
We also went to eat at this place called Maggiano’s which is famous for it’s italian food. Sis had raved about it the entire time I had been there and although it was across town, we decided to go. We invited her roomy, Jess, to go with us. Jess, was a funny girl, sweet as can be. But our ways were as foreign to her as her’s were to us. Your mom and I being the mischievous, practical jokers we are…well we had to pull a few over on her. We had this poor girl believing there was such a thing as Llama riders (like with bulls only with llamas). It went something like this.
“In Kentucky we have more Llama riders than bull riders,” Sis says out of the blue as we are doing our makeup. She gives me the look that tells me to play along.
“I cannot believe people actually ride those llamas.” I continue.
“Aww, llamas are cute. I didn’t know people rode them. They seem so docile.” Jess cut in.
“No, they are vicious,” Sis began, “only the bravest of the brave will ride them. They make a bull look like a kitten.”
“Yeah, they buck like nobody’s business. If they buck you off they will spit on you,” I chime in trying to stifle a laugh.
“Oh my goodness! I never would have dreamed they were mean. They SPIT on you? That is disgusting!” Jess was eating out of the palm of our hands, believing every word. And we continued on until we had played out every possible implausible thing that a llama could do. Then we began to talk to her about frog gigging. She had never heard of this term. She asked if it was like frog hunting? What did we do with them? Where did we find them, etc?
Well, being the smart butts we are, we told her that we ate them (the only true bit to this story). We then went on to tell this poor girl that we raised frogs on “frog farms” like one might raise cows on cattle farms. The questions were almost to much to take, and the answers we gave were so absurd that it took all my restraint to keep my composure.
“So, in Kentucky you have frog farms? I mean how do you keep them caged? Do you cage them? That seems inhumane?” Jess questioned sincerely.
“No we only raise “free” range frogs. We let them run amuck we just put up chicken fencing about 7 feet high.” Sis replied matter of factedly.
“OH MY! Don’t they jump on you?” Jess asked her face looking petrified.
“Yes, they get all over you.” I say nonchalantly.
“Yup, frog farmers have to literally have a frog room instead of a mud room where they shake off the frogs before entering the house.” Sis stated.
“Well, that sounds wretched. Llama rides and frog farms. You kentucky people live on the wild side.” Jess exclaimed. To which Sis and I finally receded into a laughing jig, but we never told her we were kidding. Poor Jess, wherever she is today I am sure she has a fear of llamas, and is still telling folks how we have frog farms in Kentucky. Something tells me that Jess will never have the inclination to visit our home state.
That night we traveled on the “t” and walked a good distance before making it to the fine dining establishment. After a few days of not eating anything substantial……I gobbled every bite like a ravenous creature. The food was exquisite. Sis and I barely spoke during dinner, the occasional head shake or nod to Jess, and a few inaudible “ooh” “ahh” “Mmms” was all that we uttered. Normally I would pace myself during a meal, and your mom is a notoriously slow eater…but not this night. I didn’t care about formalities, in two days I had only ingested two bites of a hot pocket on which the box had read “ham and cheese.” Well, I have a few words to the maker of hot pockets, no sir, just no! That is not ham, it is mystery meat, and that fine sir is definitely not cheese, cheese is not orange. The portions were huge and we ate until I was sure I was going to pop the button on the dress pants I was wearing. Sis and I both looked miserable, the worst part was we had to walk a great distance and as soon as the food hit us we were declining into a food coma. We both eyed the waitress and asked for a check and carry out boxes. Yes, Fidget, we were going to carry our doggy boxes the journey across town to the dorm, waste not, want not. Finally, we made it back, where we crashed, bellies and hearts equally full.
There was one bathroom to the like six girls on her floor, and it was in the middle of their hall. Talk about a pain when you had to go to the bathroom or shower. Well, upon many of these trips to the bathroom we had witnessed the shared trash can (yes, everyone shared a trash can, for the price of tuition you would think they could provide every room with one) had garbage strewn out beside it! We were sure there was a wild animal in the building, as it was an old place and probably had a hole for some huge rat/racoon/possum to get inside. It gave me the creeps as I was positive one of those nights on the way to the rest room I would come face to face with some creature. I am not embarrassed to admit I held my pee until morning more than one night. Never in our wildest dreams would we guess what was actually in our trash.
On laundry day, we noted that the trash on each floor was being scattered. Looking like the leftover food had been removed but the trash cans were not knocked over, which made it strange for an animal to be capable of. But we just continued up and down the stairs, doing loads of laundry in the shared laundry room. It housed about 4 washers and 4 dryers, and it took forever to finish a load of clothing. Not to mention it was in the basement, talk about creepy and impractical. I mean a girl didn’t need a gym in this place, just do your laundry, full cardio workout. Up and down stairs, up and down stairs, it was exhausting. Sis and I noticed that the bathroom seemed to be where the creature dragged the food boxes to eat in the sink. The strangest thing was there were smears on the mirrors? We didn’t give it much thought. The good thing about Boston is that place kept you so busy walking and climbing you didn’t have much time to think about anything, until you came upon it in the hallway…but I am getting to that.
One night, after some adventure we had gotten ourselves into. Sis and I made our way to the dorm, where you had to have a key to even get in the building. There was only like ten people in the whole place, so there wasn’t a lot of room for strangers to get in….this gave me what I would soon learn was an unfounded sense of security. Sis knew all the tenants, and there were rarely visitors. We are talking as we are making our way up the endless amounts of stairs leading to her dorm. Did I mention that the stairs are narrow, Fidget, because that is a very important part? Every floor is visible from the stairwell, and it twisted in a way you could see anyone coming down the stairs ahead or behind you. Well, suddenly, as we are walking and chatting we see this strange woman in a black cocktail dress leaning over the trash can on the floor above us. I guess we spooked her/it because suddenly it breezes by us…..it was very strange, the woman never made notice of us, never lifted her head, her/it’s face was stooped in an unnatural way with long dark hair covering it….if you have ever watched the grudge, Fidget, that is what that thing looked like. I looked at sis, she looked at me and we began taking 2 or three steps at a time, basically running to her room. We were shaking and screaming and crying. Whatever it was somehow never hit the second flight of stairs. We noted that the trash on the floor she had seemingly come from was strewn all the way down the hall and on our floor too. We immediately ran into the room and awaited our certain looming death. Sis and I sat on the bed bawling and dialing your nanny on the phone. We were begging her to pray, because at any given moment that woman or apparition or whatever in Hades she was would come through the walls and be in the room with us. We watched the door, we watched the walls, we prayed, we cried, we nearly killed Jess when she came home thinking she was the trash girl. No one slept that night. I will tell you this, Fidget, there were no trips to the bathroom alone after that! No way, no how! I didn’t care how pathetic it was to use the buddy system to go to the bathroom. We took shifts and went together.
The following morning still terrified and reeling from the frightening turn of events the night before; we peaked out of a crack in the door to assure that trash girl wasn’t within sight. Then your mother and I went to each room telling the other girls what we had witnessed. We began investigating, that night by far was the worst, trash was scattered down every floor, all the way to the bathroom where the aluminum foil, wrappers etc were left and streaks of what we hoped were pizza sauce was smeared on the mirror by what appeared to be human fingers. Traumatized does not begin to cover the way we felt. Thankfully, the week was up and I was heading home………I shuttered to think of leaving your mom there after I left. Thankfully, in a whim she decided to accompany me home for thanksgiving. After that encounter I will say that going down in a plane seemed like a better way to go than to stay and be eaten by trash girl.
That was our week, and it was a week that will go down in the chronicles of the best of times, and even the scariest of times. But you see, Fidget, you can endure anything with your sister beside you…….even a trash eating sociopath! Your mom and I are living proof. I have to remember not to read this particular story to you at bedtime, or you will not sleep afterwards. lol I do know one thing I don’t think two happier girls has there ever been than when we planted our feet on Kentucky soil….oh, yes, Fidget, we were positively ecstatic to be back in the home of the llama riding, frog farming state we are from….we would take that over a homeless guy, public transportation, shared bathrooms, 3 drunk guys in a bar plus a guy named Steve and a place that would make you so hungry you would literally contemplate eating someone’s trash. I can only derive that is what made that thing eat our trash, Boston’s lack of food had finally driven it mad…P.S. If you are ever in Boston, be sure to throw your leftovers in a dumpster before heading home. Fidget, I am not playing, do not I REPEAT DO NOT throw your food in your own trash can, you never know where she may be….na na na na TRASH GIRL!
Sweet Dreams 😉
Nightmares brought to you free of charge, courtesy of…….
(I am sure after reading this your little face looks like the one featured above with me and your mommy)