Can You Please Pass the Spark Plugs?

During a layover in Houston (home sweet home), I had the displeasure of sitting in a crowded gate area with a short guy from the Philadelphia area who had mistaken his cell phone for a megaphone. Unfortunately for all of us seated around him at Gate C-41, his conversations were just not that interesting.

We were subjected to the "I'm rich, I drive a new Lexus" conversation, as well as the "I'm important, I just got another medical board certification." By the time he reached the "We just finished the remodel on the house. God, was that expensive!" stage, pretty much everyone in the gate area was rolling their eyes.

But, no sooner than you can say, "I hope his battery dies," the conversation took a turn. Since I had my computer out - drafting a follow-up email to the Consulate - I tried to transcribe his side of the conversation as accurately as possible. (The bracketed comments were added later, as I'm not that fast of a typist):

"I don't care what you say, she's white trash. [White trash? You have my undivided attention.]

"You're crazy." [Hmmm, crazy white trash. This is getting better and better!]

"I certainly don't remember ever eating in the garage, but, yes, I agree, eating in a garage does make you white trash. (Pause) You are absolutely wrong. Our family never ate in the garage. (Long pause) "I certainly never ate in the garage. (Longer pause.) Well, I don't remember that." [I've heard of closet eaters, but garage eaters?]

Sorry, I missed the next part of the conversation. I was distracted by picturing the guy, sitting on a tool box, at a table made from plywood and sawhorses, using shop towels as napkins. I started cracking myself up when I got to thinking about the "carving tools".

"How old is she now?" [Wait, go back to the garage!]

"She graduated, right? She should get off her fat ass and get a job, that's what she should do." [Or, perhaps spend a little less time in the garage?]

"You're f#cking kidding me! How'd you find that out?" [What? Don't leave me hanging. Give me something. Anything!]

"Unbelievable. Just like her mother." [We are know who put the fun in dysfunctional in that family.]

"Well, she's your sister too! I think .... Wait. Gotta go, they're boarding."

Since Mr. Lexus-driving, board-certified, Garage Eater was in first class, I never found out what the niece (presumably) did that was just like her mother, but I wish her well!

© 2006 by Cindy Lane. All rights reserved.