Tuesday, October 29, 2013

She's Got Ellen DeGeneres Eyes

Chicago Trip: Part III of V

My sister and I met the rest of my family in a nice, quiet coffee shop in the heart of Chicago where steaming cups of hot chocolate awaited us, along with warm loving embraces from each family member, followed by caring condolences such as, "Did you have a nice flight?," "Want me to carry your bags for you?," and, "You deserve more mini-marshmallows in that cocoa! Here, have mine."

Oh wait...that was a different family.


This is how my dad and grandfather decided to greet my sister and I as we finally arrived to Chicago: they hid in a dark alley, waited for us to walk past, emerged from the shadows, grabbed us from behind, and shouted, "Give me all your money."

"DAD! You scared me!"

"Ha ha ha!"

"That was your father's idea," my grandfather mumbled.

"Give me a hug!" my dad exclaimed, hugging my sister and me. "How was the flight?"

"There were annoying women," my sister said.

"One of them hit my...leg," I said.

"GUARD YOUR PURSES!" my grandfather suddenly interrupted as we walked by a group of young, black teenagers.

"Dad, pl---" my father started, before his father cut in again.


"BE QUIET," my father shot at him before turning to give a polite nod to the group of men, a nod that not only said, "I'm sorry my father just came across as a loud racist," but also, "I'm sorry my daughters react to this by laughing."

"WHAT?" my grandfather asked after we had passed. "I was only joking!"

"Yes, we know that," my dad stressed, "But they don't. You can't just walk around shouting racial slurs at people and assume they'll know you're joking."

"Well, Pee-Pee knows I'm joking!"

"Pee-Pee? Are you referring to your urine?"

"No! I'm referring to her!" my grandfather exclaimed, pointing at my sister.

"Me?" my sister asked, obviously confused.

"Isn't that what we used to call you? PeePee?"

"Ohhhhh....no, that was Pea-Pod," my sister corrected him.

"Yeah! That's what I meant! PEA-POD!"

"What's the plan for the rest of the night?" I asked, changing the subject as we continued the walk to our hotel.

"Well," my dad answered, "We're gonna go drop off your bags at the hotel, pick up your grandmother from the room if she's gotten enough rest, and head to dinner at this new sushi place that's getting rave reviews."

"Nice! Do we have to dress up?"

"Well, I'm wearing a tie."

"That doesn't help them!" my grandfather chimed in. "Girls don't wear ties!"

"I actually did wear a tie the other night," I admitted.

"Are you a lesbian?"

"No, Grandpa, I am not a lesbian."

"You ARE, aren't you?!"

"No! What? No."

"It's okay. We still accept you."

"Well, thanks, but I'm not a lesbian."

"Well you look like one."

"How do I look like one?"

"I don't know...something in your eyes."

"In my eyes?"

"Yeah...you got them lesbian eyes."

"I have no idea what that means."

"Cause you from Nashveel!" my grandfather said in his best country accent. "But I'm from California, sista, and we have all sorts of gays!"

"Like you!" my dad said. "You're the one with the undying obsession with Brad Pitt. You've been talking about him for years."

"Well, Brad Pitt is a good looking man," my grandfather answered. "Number One."

"Number One as in looks? You sound like a woman!" my dad teased.

"HE'S A GOOD LOOKING MAN AND YOU KNOW IT!" my grandfather shouted. "JUST ADMIT IT, SON!"

"Admit what? That you're completely infatuated with a man you don't know?" my dad asked, egging him on.

"I'm not saying he has to be your Number One," my grandfather calmly stated. "I'd just like you to admit that he is, in fact, an attractive guy."

"Fine. Yes, Dad, Brad Pitt is a handsome man. There. Are you happy now? Now that you've defended your lover's honour?"

"I've never ogled over Brad Pitt," I chimed in.

"Well that's because you're a lesbo!" my grandfather laughed.

"I am not---"

"Oh wait," he continued, "Now I remember. You like black guys!"


"Or was it the black guys that liked you?"

"I don't remember ever having this conversation."

"I remember! You had me pause on Will Smith with his shirt off when we were watching I, Robot!"

"That was years ago and I asked you to pause it because I thought it was an important scene!"

"Yeah, Will Smith flexing his pecks is really important to you, huh?"

"I don't know how we went from me being a lesbian to me wanting to see Will Smith naked."

"PROOF!" my grandfather shouted. "Did you hear that, son?! Your daughter just said she wants Will Smith NAKED!"

"I thought you said she was a lesbian," my dad answered.

"Well, she could be both," my grandfather said. "She could be bi."

"Alright this is getting out of control," I said, looking at my sister for back-up, who was too busy laughing to notice.

"YOU'RE out of control!" my grandfather shouted. "You've been cut down - BIMBO!"

"Did you just call me a bimbo?"

"Whoops, I meant BINGO!"


"Shit, what's the word I'm looking for?"


"TIMBER! Yep, that's the one!"

"Here we are!" my dad chimed in, peering up at a building that read Thompson Chicago. "Let's head up to the room, shall we?"

Upon entering our hotel suite, we were greeted by my lovely grandmother, who did hug my sister and I and did ask how our flight was, all before my grandfather entered the room to make an announcement.


"He's joking," I said, turning back to my grandmother. "I am not a lesbian."

"Oh, Ken," she laughed, "Leave poor Natasha alone!"

"She did save us from getting robbed by a group of black guys, though! She's got a way with them, that's for sure!"

"You were almost robbed?" my grandmother asked, concerned.

"No, Mom," my dad cut in, "He's exaggerating."

"Dad?" my sister asked from inside the room's bathroom. "Please tell me the bathroom door is only see-through from the inside."

"WHAT!" I exclaimed, running over to look through the bathroom door. "Uh-oh. It's see-through from the outside, too!"

"Are you serious?" my sister said, opening the door so I could look in. "There's not even a shower door. The bathroom is the shower."

"Yeah," my dad said, "It's some kind of modern archetectural design...this hotel just opened last week."

"So there's a see-through door standing directly in front of a doorless shower?"


"Brothel..." my grandmother giggled.

"Well anyway!" my dad exclaimed. You guys ready for dinner?"

"Yep!" I said, closing my phone.

"Who you texting?" my dad asked.

"No one," I answered. "I'm typing out all our conversations and saving them in my phone. I feel like I'm gonna have a lot of funny things to quote by the time this trip is over..."


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