I’ve been asked repeatedly how I come up with the subject matter for my column. This week, it’s necessary that I answer for all to read. Otherwise, you’ll surmise my elevator doesn’t quite reach the top as your eyes travel below.
First, my family provides enough material to keep several writers busy. However, being that I have a slew of my own embarrassing moments, I’m careful about what I make public. (Do remind me at some point though to tell the story about my mother, Linda Rowe, who decided that just because her daughter (me) was adept at roller-blading, she could do it, too. That story ends at the edge of my driveway…severe bruising and a bump on the head came just after the climax.) Anyway, I digress. The second avenue has me operating under the adage that “truth is stranger than fiction”. That’s where this week finds me.
Tuesday morning, my middle child had an appointment at Baytown’s orthodontic Taj Mahal. (Many of you know exactly where that’s located, and like me, probably feel you should have part-ownership.) While sitting in the waiting area with notebook and pen in hand, a Travel Channel show entitled “Bizarre Foods” caught my attention. I’ve pretty much sworn off television until the elections are over, but this was a nice diversion from the fare television has been serving up. I was intrigued.
The host, Andrew Zimmern, was on location in Spain enjoying and discussing with viewers a tradition the Spaniards refer to as Tapas. I found it interesting, and as promised the foods were bizarre.
My waiting companions included males and females of just about every age group. Most of us were fiddling with something in our lap; some were even talking on cell phones. Then the show turned to a delicacy which honors the great legacy of bull-fighting in Spain. So as not to offend, I’ll put this as delicately as possible. The host, along with world-renowned chefs, began discussing the preparation of, well, the parts that make a bull a bull.
I nearly lost it. I was sitting in the corner with a view of the entire room. People with their backs to the TV spun around to make sure their ears did not deceive them, as the proper anatomical terms were being used. I don’t know what I got more a kick out of: watching the program, or the reactions of those around me.
The lady seated next to me was pretending to read a book. Her face was curled in disgust when I caught her peering over the top of her reading glasses. I was hoping to make eye contact with someone and at least garner a smirk. No one would look up. The men were squirming in their seats.
Sliding into convulsions while trying to maintain some composure, I kept my shaking body quiet. Ever needed to burst out laughing, but felt it would be entirely inappropriate because those around you were being mouse-quiet and apparently not amused? I was in tears! And still, silence. The comments of Zimmern while he dined were hysterical. Surely I was not the only one in the room “getting” the nature of his comments.
I was about to explode when my son came out to get me. That boy has a knack for rescuing me in my moments of greatest need. Of course he wanted to know what was so funny, and I told him. “BULL-oney. What were you really laughing about?” To which I replied, “Not a bull anymore!” tears streaming down my face. He STEERed me straight to the car…no bull!
© 2008 Natalie Whatley