My second day of school, I was talking with Peggy, one of the other teachers I work with. I have no idea how we got onto the topic of Thanksgiving (it was July), but I suddenly found myself invited to her house for Thanksgiving. Actually, shanghied would be a better word for it. But I figured that there would be ample time to either get used to the idea or come up with a broken leg or something.
Last week, Peggy found out that her mother - who lives in Cleveland needs bypass surgery...the next morning. So she's going to the mainland for a week and Thanksgiving is canceled - well, at her house anyway. She's not that commanding.
Cool. I can spend the night by myself, which is really what I would prefer. Like a good little jew, I'll get a good piece of fish, maybe rent a movie (for the first time since I've been here) and just chill out. Well, one more little speed bump.
A couple of days after the Peggy announcement, I was doing some work afterschool. As a quick aside, I'm getting the feeling that I'm making some people uncomfortable with the amount of time I spend at school. I'm usually the last to leave. But by the same token, I rarely take work home with me, which most teachers do. Or the good ones, anyway. So, that day, Mark, my boss, is making conversation with me and at the same time steering me out of the building - by turning off all the lights, you know...subtle hints. He invited me over to his house for thanksgiving. Which was very nice of him. But he also mentioned that his wife, Lori (who is very nice) has an aunt's step-daughter - or something like that - who is single and will be there, yada, yada, yada.
OK, I'm not all that hip to the "fix-up" but I'm actually at the point where I don't care anymore. But something like that over Thanksgiving dinner...uh...nah. So I politely decline.
Now I'm back to my good piece of fish. Which was good by the way. I eat the fish, I watch the movie and it's still not really late yet. I notice that there's a salsa band playing at this bar. OK, I can do that. Hang out for a beer and hear some salsa. I did miss the Puerto Rican Festival for the first time in a million years. Why not.
I get there...and it's not exactly a band. Think the Culps from Saturday Night Live.
Now mix in salsa and that's what you have. A keyboard that plays the cheesy percussion. Dude has a guitar and the chick has a tamborine and a gigantic hair-do. Add to that, they're playing pop songs with salsa-ish arrangements. Oy. They were even playing this old Sting song that was really about people who were tortured in Central America. What the???
I was going to leave after a beer, but something caught my eye. This dude who had to be at least 70 years old. He was doing that really fragile, old-man-walk, like his walker is in the shop. But he would shuffle up to a woman, get her to dance and once he was on the dance floor he was a freakin maniac! I don't mean for a 70-year-old. That dude was out dancing just about everyone. I stayed just to watch that guy.
But because it was a holiday, the place closed at 11 so I just ended up going home with bad salsa stuck in my head.
But really...the salmon was good.
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