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Tequila-Infused Madness

 I hate it here," Bella shouted angrily over the sound of the Mariachi band.

She swiped at the air like a cat as if to scratch away her disgust. A clawed flash of red fingernails missed my face by inches.

"Are you talking about the restaurant, the country, or planet earth?" I asked innocently.

The band was hovering menacingly close to our restaurant table with the persistence of paparazzi. They were waiting for a tip. We sat in the shadows of their giant sombrero hats and played the waiting game. Who would crack first and reach for their wallet?

Tequila was turning the birthday party for my work colleague Jessica into an evening of drunken madness. Somehow I had ended up sitting next to the birthday girl's sister, Bella. I couldn't take my eyes off her. She was amazingly whiny.

"I think you'll like my sister," Jessica had said earlier in the afternoon as we left the office for dinner. "She'll leave quite an impact on you, I'm sure."

Images of road kill flattened on highway come to mind in retrospect.

The lead singer hit a surprising top note that practically shattered my margarita glass. Bella cringed and stabbed irritably at the ice cubes in her green beverage with a miniature pink cocktail umbrella. She had lipstick on her teeth and kept licking her lips in this frantic way that made me nervous. Someone sighed and disappeared beneath the tablecloth to fish around for their handbag. I smiled reassuringly at the guitarist, happy that the music had forced us to press the pause button on our conversation. Money was exchanged with the smiling guitarist. Bella retrieved her wallet from a netted blue handbag and handed over a note as well.

"Do you have change for a two dollar note?" she asked, narrowing her eyes and gripping her money with both hands.

I thought that she was argumentative and difficult. A physical challenge. Or was I being too critical?

She ignored the Acapulco map menu and asked the waitress if they served Wiener Schnitzel. The waitress just looked at her, astonished.

"This is a Mexican restaurant."

"Well, do you have kebabs then?"

We were nibbling on starter selections while we ordered. I was so shocked that I practically choked on my guacamole.

Bella had a cast on her arm.

Casts always make me wonder and she read my mind in a second.

"Don't even think about asking me about the cast," was the first thing that she said to me as she said down.

Jessica told me later that she had broken her arm in a kitchen incident.

"The refrigerator collapsed on her, poor thing."

I wonder if she was fighting with it.

Do you think that you can tell something about someone from their style of their sneezes?

Bella sneezed this amazing sequence like her life depended on it. It was 100 times louder than the Mariachi band. That's loud.

"I always sneeze in three's," she said in a well-rehearsed statement while rubbing her nose with a well-worn tissue.

"I normally sneeze twice," I said, just to keep conversation up.

"I always come twice when I'm having sex with my husband during lunar eclipses," she replied, deadpan.

Somehow we got into this argument as we ate dessert. Bryan Adam's "Summer Of 69" came on. She started singing the song and noticed that I didn't join her. After being asked why, I admitted I didn't know any of the words. Bella was disgusted.

"I wasn't even born then," I replied in my own defence. "If it was the ‘Summer of 99’ then perhaps I’d get into it.”

Bella snorted and said: "I'll bet you don't even know how to do the macarena."

I blushed and admitted that I didn't.

She looked me over and added salt to the wound by saying:

"Your fly is down!"

Have you ever had a friend who insisted that you were going to get along with someone like a house on fire only to end up getting burnt in the end? It's funny how we get along with some people and not with others. Maybe it's a timing thing.

I don't know.

 

Copyright © 2008 Richard Cannane Publishing
03. Mai 2013