trip update 1: meeting Madre

Bleary-eyed and struggling to remain upright, I dragged my suitcase through the Newark Airport, trying to keep up with G. He noticed and said, “I’m not trying to rush you, I swear, but my dad is waiting at the curb and I don’t know how long he can stay there until airport security shoos him away.”

“Kay,” I mumbled. I had woken up literally seconds before landing, so I was having a hard time remaining focused.

When we finally staggered out into the rainy New Jersey night, Padre was standing by his spiffy Grand Cherokee. He gave us each a fierce hug and then flung our luggage into the back as though it weighed no more than a can of Coke. “How was the flight?” he asked, pulling out into traffic while simultaneously passing a paper bag to me. “C, there’s a ham sandwich with mustard on white for you. The cookies are homemade and the acorn-shaped ones are particularly good. G, there’s turkey pastrami on rye for you, and there are two bottles of Snapple lemonade and two bottles of water.”

One thing was immediately clear: I would not go hungry on this trip.

During the rainy ride to G’s parents’ house (and Jesus, how many toll roads ARE there in New Jersey?), G and his dad chatted while I nibbled my sandwich and tried to quell the roiling in my gut.

What would his mother be like? Would her impeccable manners be wrapped around a disapproving core? Would she be bothered by her little boy bringing home a shiksa, and an agnostic one at that? I envisioned a perfectly put-together woman looking me up and down and sniffing, “Shanda fur di goyim!”

Eventually, we pulled into the driveway of one of the biggest houses I’d ever seen. I tried to take my suitcase away from Padre, and after failing at that endeavor, I quickly brushed my hair, swallowed my gum, and pasted on a smile to meet Madre.

Well, when we walked in the door, G’s mother stood leaning against the island in the kitchen, looking much more nervous than I felt.

“Oh!” she cried, coming over and giving me a big hug and a kiss on the cheek. “It is such a pleasure to meet you after all this time!”

Huh. Okay, this wouldn’t be as bad as I’d thought.

We made small talk about the flight and then Madre said, “Are you guys hungry? I have lots of cookies here, or I could make you more sandwiches or…”

“Ma, enough with the food!” G said with affectionate exasperation.

Next came the grand tour of the house, which was absolutely beautiful. They had expensive figurines and statues everywhere, and I felt a bit like a bull in a china shop as I carefully maneuvered around end tables and armoires. I admired a particularly beautiful Lladro figurine, and then it was time to see the infamous couches.

Brief explanation: G’s parents have a pair of couches that cost an unholy sum. When G told me about them several months ago, I was shocked and asked what on earth could make a couch so expensive: a homunculus who lived underneath and provided superlative cunnilingus upon request? Nope, they were just handmade by Norwegian virgins or something…which is all well and good, but damn!

After I oohed and aahed over the couches, we finished our tour, and then Madre showed us to our room. We were on the opposite side of the house from the other bedrooms, which put some naughty thoughts into my head. Unfortunately, I was too damn tired to put anything into action, and we were asleep by midnight.

That’s 9PM Pacific time, folks.

Yeah, I love getting older.

(to be continued)