TATER

  My brother and I live ten miles apart from each other, but rarely manage to cross paths.  The few times we bump into one another usually occur on the train commute to work.  It is often a pleasant surprise for both of us, and we manage to fill each other in on all the pertinent events which define our busy lives.  Today happened to be one of those chance occurrences, and our conversation began in the train station and continued as we started our thirty minute commute.  As many of you know, the train ride provides rich people watching experiences, and have peppered some of my blog entries in the past.

My brother filled me in on his family life and our discussion had moved on to work.  As we were laughing about our various bad work experiences, the door to our train car slammed open, revealing a rather stout Italian woman making her entrance in dramatic fashion.  My brother and I were startled out of our commiserations at the slamming of the metal doors, and each stared slack jawed as she weeble wobbled towards us.  As luck would have it, my brother and I were straddling three little fold down seats on the lower level, and our portly newcomer decided that we were the two guys on the train she needed to be with.  Instead of asking, or waiting for us to extend our seat (there were plenty of empty, larger spaces available) she threw her golf bag/purse next to me on half a seat, and then reached down and pushed my leg, while jerking her head to the side in a pantomime of "move the fuck over".  I complied while trying to conclude a sentence I had been in the middle of with my brother.  Apparently I wasn't quick enough, because part of her girth landed on me as the rest of her squashed me into my brother's reluctant embrace.

"Excuse me."  She said brightly.

"All settled in?"  I asked.

She let out a breathy sigh, and I watched in horror as a nose rocket exploded from her left nostril, flew across the aisle, and landed on the polished wing tip of a banker type, buried in his Wall Street Journal.   I turned to my brother to register his reaction, to see if I had been hallucinating this utterly fantastic sight.  Nope.  We gave each other "the look".  The same one that has gotten us into ample trouble over the years in church settings, family dinners, and any other somber event.  We both started cough-chortling uncontrollably.  After a few minutes of struggling to reclaim our composure, he asked me who I was shooting for.

"Red Lobster, they are in for two days to do some table tent shots for their-"

"You're a food photographer?"  Came the booming voice on my right.  "What a neat job!  I'm Italian, *pregnant pause* I love to cook.  Is the food you shoot real, or is it like made of plastic or something?  I bet it's plastic.  Looks too perfect.  How do you get the food to look so perfect?"  Chuckle chuckle.  "Food today is all made of chemicals and shit, and I refuse to eat any of that prepackaged stuff, well, sometimes Lean Cuisine, but only when I have to work really late.  Do you, like, shoot the packaging for frozen food and stuff, too?

The prattle went on and on, and the strong odor of her last night's meal, was infusing my coffee with the heady taste of garlic.  She finally managed to wind herself down enough for me to politely answer one of her ten questions, and then she was off to the races again.  I think she even described to me a pre baked ham that her father had once tried to serve her family, which somehow ended up on their compost heap, uneaten.

"The bugs wouldn't even touch it!"  She shrieked.

I looked at my brother who gave me the look again, right before burying his head in his paper to leave me helpless and alone to her onslaught.  I heard him giggle a few times under his breath as I struggled to detach myself from this unwelcome familiarity, with my new. best.friend.   She talked until the train pulled into the station. 

"You are cheap therapy, bro!", was my brothers parting salvo.

I suppose sometimes I am.  But then again, if I am ever so alone, that I need to strike up a one sided conversation with a trainger, I hope that person will pay me the same polite, attention.

I worked on some product shots for a different company this afternoon, and thought you might like a sneak peek.  I don't usually do product, solely food.  I'm a bit rusty, so please be gentle with me...

Here is something I wrote awhile back, for your entertainment, while I am trying to rebuild my archives from the previous blogsite.

Party Dress 

Another “Kim” Inspired Tale:


Kim woke with a start as a car backfired down on Western Avenue.  She was dreaming of the Bozo Circus Show, and in particular Cookie the Clown.  In her dream, she was dressed up in a pink poodle skirt, a lime green blouse, black paten leather shoes, and a purple ribbon tying back her long brown tresses.  Her bobby sox were lacy and folded down at the ankle, and looked like those paper drumstick decorations on a roasted Turkey, as her legs piston up and down in her angry pursuit of Cookie.  She had been weaving through the bucket game, dodging the wires and cables of the cameras as she took swipe after swipe at that damn clown with the garden rake she wielded like an axe.

The backfire became a pistol shot in her half wakefulness, and she was certain that that Damn Ringmaster Ned had shot her dead.  She fluttered her eyes open and took in the morning light of her bedroom, one she shared with two other sisters in her parent’s crowded, German Catholic home.  She felt her stomach and chest, and let out a sigh.  She laughed at herself, and the chuckle gave way to her beautiful wide smile.  Cookie the clown had somehow been responsible for the theft of her Beatles’ album, which in fact had been stolen by her girlfriend Cookie Bronkowski down the street.  She giggled again as the dream started to dissolve into reality and her thoughts turned to the really neat fact that today was her 12th birthday!

Her parents had arranged a birthday party with her sisters and their close friends at Kiddieland, in Melrose Park!  Kim threw back her covers and leapt from her bed, waking her sisters as she hopped into her slippers and pounded down the stairs to breakfast.  She was anxious to get the party started, and couldn’t wait to get back upstairs and get into that pretty yellow party dress her grandma had bought her special, just for this occasion!

She stood in front of the hallway mirror, and lifted her chin.  She adjusted her glasses and slowly turned on her toes as she admired, first her striking profile, and then, tossing back her hair and smiling, her beautiful full on image.  She loved how the dress was just long enough, but not so long that she felt overly proper.  She swayed from left to right, swiveling her hips to watch the way the dress floated and moved with her.

‘Kim!  Get down here, the fire truck is here.  Are you still in front of that darn mirror?  Jesus, Mary and Joseph!   We’re running late!’

‘I’m coming dad.’

She stuck her tongue out at him in the mirror, smiling to herself again as she skipped down the stairs, through the living room and out the front door. There in the street was the Idora Park Fire truck!  The bright red engine that loaded up your party guests and drove you all the way to Kiddieland!  It was totally cool, and for the first time in her life, Kim knew that she had arrived.  All her guests were waving and smiling as they loaded onto the that truck and started towards North Avenue, bells clanging and neighbors waving, this was going to be the best day of her life!

The ride was super neat, and she loved the way the open air of the rooftop seating blew her hair back and practically snatched the words out of her mouth as she formed them, having to almost scream in order to be heard above the warm current of air and the clanging bell.  She leaned over to her younger sister and tickled her ear:

‘What ride are you most excited to go on?

‘I want to go on the Whip!!’, she exclaimed with a toothy grin.

‘You wanna do that first, or do you wanna save it for last?” Kim asked her.

‘How ‘bout the middle?’

‘Okay, middle it is’ Kim replied as she patted her sister’s arm.  Kim was feeling magnanimous in the spirit of the day, and while the Whip wasn’t her all time favorite, she would be sure her sister and her got to ride it.  She couldn’t wait to play the arcade games and try to win a stuffed animal, or taste the fluffy sweetness of Cotton candy melting on her tongue.  With five brothers and sisters, days like this were very rare occasions, and Kim wasn’t in a mind to waste a single minute.

The Kiddieland Fire truck made its way into Melrose Park, And Kim and her guests could make out the Kiddieland sign in the distance.  The Barber pole with the happy children clinging to it and Kiddieland in silly rainbow print, all topped with a crown.  They could see the little dipper roller coaster, the Polyp (yes, the actual name of a ride), the miniature steam locomotives, and the Whip.  As they pulled into the lot, they were engulfed in the smells of spun sugar, peanuts, and popcorn, and the sounds of gleeful screams, carousals, and Calliopes. They disembarked from the engine and were born into an alternate universe, were kids ruled, and parents grudgingly acquiesced.

Kim had the time of her life with her sister and girlfriends, running from one attraction to the next.  She played skeet ball until she won enough tickets to get her sisters each a teddy bear, ate enough cracker jacks and drank enough soda to fuel her into Sunday, and topped it all off with a delicious dessert of fresh spun cotton candy, careful as could be, not to get it on her dress, or in her hair.  The girls were having a ball, and had hit most of the rides when Kim decided it was time to ride The Whip.  She took the oldest of her little sisters by the arm and pulled her along up to the snaking admission line.

They watched as the ride slowly started it’s zig zag pushing and yanking motion, the zig zag, push pull, of it’s opposing arms creating impossible “G”s for it’s screaming patrons.  It started out slow and easy, with a tilt-a-whirl sensation as the cars gathered up speed, and before long the whipping and snapping of the impossibly fast cars were causing frightened screams and adrenaline yells as it’s occupants were shaken and slammed inside the uncomfortable and seemingly shoddily built compartments.  It all became a blur to Kim as she watched it zip back and forth, and suddenly this ride didn’t seem like such an excellent idea.  Kim felt her sister squeezing her hand, and decided to play it cool and act like it was nothing.

‘Doesn’t that look like a total blast?’ she said brightly!

‘uh huh’ her sister mumbled.

‘Are you going to chicken out?’

‘No!’

‘It’s okay if you don’t want to go on it’ Kim offered

‘I’m going on it, I’m NOT scared!’ her sister stubbornly replied.

‘Okay!’ Kim said, her smile feeling plastered on, as her stomach started to twist and turn,  just like the ride.

They made it to the boarding area and were told to stand at the height requirement sign.  A girl in front of them was told she was too little to ride, and let out a cry of dismay.

‘But I waited in line!  It’s not fair!’  she cried.

‘You could get hurt,’ her brother said to her, ‘you’re too small for the car.  I told you you were too small before we got in line!’

The ride attendant pushed her out of line and toward her parents, and took Kim’s sister and lifted her into the car with the other boy.

‘My sister would like to ride with me, sir.’

‘Sorry little lady, I need you to ride with Pee Wee here, you don’t mind do you?’

Kim glanced over her shoulder to get a load of Pee Wee, and almost choked on her gum.  Pee Wee was a rather large young man of uncertain age.  He was obviously mentally impaired, and this poor boy’s mother decided to enhance the obviousness of that impairment by dressing Pee Wee in a very small dress up cowboy outfit.  Pee Wee smiled and said something slurred and giggly to Kim and her heart sank. 

How could a good girl say no?  She smiled thinly as she looked him up and down.  His fancy western wear was made of red velvet with black and white fancy trimmings and fringe.  The buttons of his shirt were mother of pearl snaps, that were just a slight breeze away from bursting open.  Instead of full length pants, Pee Wee’s mom impossibly decided that black velvet short shorts were the order of the day.  Pee Wee’s fat legs were sticking out of his lederhosen like two Bavarian sausages, and looked like they were in danger of having their circulation cut off.  On his feet were a pair of black and red dress boots and white tube socks that just managed to crest the dressy tops.  On his hips were a pair of fancy chrome six shooters, tucked into a faux leather holster filled up with plastic bullets.  In crowning glory, a fancy red cowboy hat with white trim, perched on his oversized head, with a black drawstring hanging down his dress shirt and red velvet vest.  Kim could barely see his eyes through the coke bottle lenses he wore, and she self consciously pushed her own specs up by the bridge.  His fleshy face was covered with little red pimples accented  with random crests of pus, and dark hair was sprouting above his rather large fleshy lips.

‘Pee Wee here is with a special group of kids, that need to partner up with kids like yourself for some of the rides’ the operator said to her.

‘You look like a nice young woman, would you mind if Pee Wee rode with you?’

Kim stammered and looked at her feet, repulsed by the thought of riding with Pee Wee. and yet raised to feel too guilty not to.  She made up her mind and looked up and smiled at Pee Wee and the ride operator and said ‘sure.’

As the operator trundled them into the car, Kim caught a whiff of something completely unpleasant.  The mass that was Pee Wee, left Kim with less than half an inch to spare, and he kept brushing against her thighs with his leg as  he whooped and grunted in excitement.  She realized that Pee Wee smelled just like his name, and that his shorts seemed damp and moist.

‘Oh My Gawd!’  she thought to herself as the cars started slowly moving into their first zig, ‘he’s peed himself once already, what if he pees again?’

She had a frantic look in her eye that her little sister picked up on in the car opposite as she came gliding by.

‘It’s okay Kim, don’t be scared!’ she said in passing

Kim grimaced a half smile, and was caught slightly off guard as the car jerked into it’s zag, now at an increased speed.  Pee Wee was having a grand old time, and was bouncing up and down on his seat whooping and giggling.  Wafts of stale pee, strong and rich in her nostrils, Kim tucked her new dress as tightly under herself as she could manage with her free hand as she tried to desperately hold herself in place with the other.

The whip lived up to it’s name however, and moments later, Pee Wee and her were experiencing an undesired and forced intimacy.  Every turn of the car slammed Pee Wee’s bulk into her body, his dampness and the pointy grind of his toy pistol digging into her side. His gales of laughter slowly ceased, and morphed into grunts of fright.  The cars picked up speed and Kim could barely make out her sister whirling past with a shit eating grin on her face, her body was slammed into the side of the car by Pee Wee, and seconds later she was crashing into his soft mass. 

‘Sorry Pee Wee!’ she shouted!

‘ish awight,’ he stammered back, ‘i don lie thish anymo’

‘Me Neither!’ she exclaimed.

The speed kept rising and rising, and the g force got greater and greater.  Kim felt pummeled and lost as she could no longer see anything outside of her car but blurs and streaks.  Pee Wee was screaming now, and would only stop each time he had the wind knocked out of him by slamming into her or nailing the side of the rickety metal car.  It was not long after this that Kim felt a warmth spread along her left thigh, and then her buttocks.  Her worst nightmare realized, Pee Wee had become an onomatopoeia.  The tears started to slide across her face with the rhythm of the car.  Her party ruined.  She heard Pee Wee’s plaintive wailing, and reached out and held his arm.  The worst possible scenario had already occurred, might as well roll with it.

‘It’ll be over soon Pee Wee, I promise!’ she shouted in his ear.

‘Don’t be afraid, we’re going to be fine!’

She no longer tried to keep her distance but allowed their bodies to be rocked back and forth together, easing the slamming into a manageable jostle.  She glanced at him and saw him whimpering, and felt angry with herself for being so callous.  She was angry at her situation, but it sickened her to think she could be angry with him.  She brushed her tears off her cheeks and waved to her sister as their paths crossed. 

The ride was slowing down and would soon be over, and she would be able to disembark and clean herself up.  She knew that whatever stained her pretty yellow party dress could be rinsed away in the Kiddieland bathroom sink.  she also knew, that what stained this poor boy next to her, was a permanent thing that he would have to live with his entire life. 

She took Pee Wee’s hand as the ride stopped and the protective bar was raised, and carefully walked him to the exit where his group was waiting.  She handed him off to his counselor, and gave him her brightest smile and said goodbye, gathered her sister and headed off.

It was time to hit the bathroom, find the rest of the party, and sit down to cake and ice cream.  She took some ribbing for her wet dress, and even managed to not slap the neighbor boy when he accused her of wetting herself on The Whip. 

Kim discussed this with her sister years later. They practically hyper ventilated with the laughs they shared over it.  It had been a great day punctuated with an incredibly shitty turn of events.  She told me that it was the first time in her life that she remembers being forced to chose between selfishness and compassion, and she managed to choose the latter.  Unsurprisingly, she ended our conversation stating that her twelfth birthday was also the first time she realized what it was like to feel beautiful from the inside out.

I wish Kim was my President instead of Pee Wee.