April 2005: The Joy of TUS
A contractor named Reeves with bright white teeth is going to Vegas to turn 40. His family from Massachusetts is meeting him there. His wife and two kids are standing in the Southwest airlines livestock line-up while he and his buddy (Who says at three times, "I LOVE this guy, but I'm not his wife." Then slaps Reeves on the back.) drink and schlep chicken sandwiches back and forth to the wife and the kids.
"Vegas!" says Reeves and slaps the bar, "Great deals on southwest airlines to Vegas! Four people, two nights under a thousand bucks! Love Vegas!"
His enthusiasm is contagious. "Right ON!" I have to add.
His kid had an earache coming home from Mass last time and fuckin screamed the whole God-damned trip. He walked up and down the aisle at least a hundred and fifty times. Everyone on the plane hated them so much that they decided to take a taxi to the parking lot instead of the shuttle bus.
He leaves and Fran the bar-maid serves me another merlot.
I love Fran. I'd guess her age at ealy 50's. She has permed, salt-and-pepper hair and glasses. Down to earth, calm and friendly, Fran represents the quintessential tucsonan to me. She may be hispanic, or she may be simply old-tucson but she has that native american/mexican accent, so subtle it could be overlooked. I find the rhythm of that speech lovely and soothing. She never, ever neglects a glass-half-empty. She's going on vacation next week. She's staying home, but going to finish some projects she started a long time ago. And she's going to the movies.
Another merlot?
Sure.
Fran, I miss you.
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