Tahoe Hash

Another vacation gasps its final breath, expiring before it really had a chance to spread its wings. Alas. Hey, but at least I'm tan.

This recapping stuff would be easier if I'd brought a laptop along and posted regular updates. My mind is a rather fragile creature and it seems to retain details like an old man's bladder, but my apologies in advance for the long post.

So what do you want to hear, drunken tales of excess? My own personal Rum Diary? Sorry, this brown boy can't hold his liquor very well, and I just can't put it down like I used to. As Cookie says, having fun hurts. But while we're on the subject of holding one's liquor, I do have one little tale of excess.

It was Sunday, day two of the vacation. There I was on the beach at Chambers Landing, sunning and thumbing through a discarded copy of People or US or one of those glossy, celeb filled rags, when I came across a little blurb about Julia Roberts' niece, Emma Roberts. I'd never heard of her and couldn't name a thing she's been in, but the blurb was about how she commands nearly 1 million dollars per picture. I commented to the browning body next to me that, while the young lady in question may very well be talented, I'm sure there are thousands of young actresses who are more deserving, but who lack the famous aunt to give them that much needed leg up. You know the whole Hollywood nepotism thing.

Well, in the interest of not putting anyone on Front Street, let me just say that the "hostile roommate" of another member of our party showed her hostile side. I will try to paraphrase her "Joe" directed diatribe.

"That totally offends me. Where do you get off calling her a rat snatch? You have no idea how fucking hard it is to be on a sitcom. Let's see you show up for work on a sitcom for 52 weeks a year fucker."

Bear in mind that this profanity laced tirade was delivered in a very loud, drunken voice and I fully expected her to either A) strike me or B) douse me with her Budweiser Big Gulp. Meanwhile, I'm looking at my neighbor with a "Did I miss something?" expression on my face, while at the same time, trying to defuse the situation. Heads were turning all across the beach and needless to say that for someone who avoids confrontations like the plague, this was just the teeniest bit uncomfortable. At this point I suggested with only the slightest hint of sarcasm, that she chill out.

"You chill out, fucker!"

Strike one.

I then suggested that she go walk it off.

"You walk it off fucker."

Strike two.

Fortunately, before Strike Three became my face, others persuaded her to walk it off. However, she continued to berate me, loudly, on her way to the parking lot.

Ah, nothing like a nice relaxing vacation! And as I said, it was only day two. It's all that rat snatch Emma Roberts fault.

On Monday my father in-law tried to kill me. Monday morning, we'd taken a boat trip to the Nevada side of the lake. There are many little coves full of crystal blue waters and picturesque boulders and even the occasional nudist. We spent the morning and early afternoon reading and frolicking in the clear waters while the kids tried to empty the lake off crawdads and catch chipmunks in a trap consisting of a fishing net propped up with a stick tied to a string. The kind of thing you'd see in a cartoon. Amazingly though it worked and they caught several chipmunks, always taking care to set them free after a few moments. But back to the attempted homicide.

When it was time to go, we hopped in the boat and the father in-law tooled us over to Sand Harbor where we'd parked our car. As we sidled up to the dock, the boy jumped out and was attempting to tie off the boat. Seeing that he was in need of some assistance, I attempted to join him on the dock. It was at this point that either A) the dock moved, B) the boat moved or C) my father in-law took advantage of what he saw as the golden opportunity to sponge me from his daughter's life.

With my left leg still on the boat, my right leg shot down between said boat and the dock while the rest of me lurched/plunged forward. Fortunately, my chin brought me to a screeching halt when it slammed into the wood planks of the pier. Fortunate indeed! Incredibly, besides being just the slightest bit woozy, I was fine. Chin was a little sore for a few days, as was forearm who apparently jumped in to help break chin's fall. Quite decent of forearm if you ask me. On the plus side, at least I know I can take a punch, so if hostile roommate ever takes a swing at me I won't drop like a sack of wheat. And best of all, I foiled FIL's attempt to do me in. Now that my guard is up he won't get a second chance.

The danger continued on Tuesday when we drove to South Lake Tahoe to stuff ourselves silly at Harrah's Forest Buffet. Father in-law treated us to lunch (a transparent attempt to throw me off. Don't think I didn't have the kids test my food before I ate anything). But the really dangerous part was when sister In-law noticed a nail sticking out of our right rear tire. Out of the sidewall no less. How the hell does that happen, short of someone hammering the damn thing in? So there we were, traversing the winding roads of Hwy 89, with its striking views and totally disfiguring sheer drops, while all along we were possible moments away from a blow out. Sister In-law has an in with Big O Tires and directed me to their shop in South Lake, so while the rest of the gang challenged the links at Magic Carpet Golf, I sought out the comfort of a Big O waiting room.

I don't know what it is with locals in forest towns, but believe me when I say that I felt as if I'd stepped into a scene from Deliverance; skinheads, tattoos, wonky teeth, wonky eyes, the works. Be that as it may, the boys of Big O were nothing but courteous, called me "boss" and took care of the tire even though it was nearly closing time, all gratis. In return, I promised not to say anything about the meth lab they were running out of the parts room.

We swung by Eagle Falls on the way back and took scads of pictures. We arrived home after dark and were in for the night. We awoke the next morning to a sad occurrence. After getting a taste for chipmunk trapping, the boy set his own trap at our place. Unfortunately it was still set while we were gone and Mr. Squirrel was unable to chew his way through the fishing net. We buried him under the porch.

Wednesday was spent doing God knows what. I know Lisa discovered that about a half dozen checks she'd written while paying bills never arrived at their intended destinations. We have no idea what happened but she spent a good portion of the day on the phone to various creditors attempting to save our otherwise sterling credit history. Most companies were very understanding. Big thanks to American Express. To Capitol One I say, "What's Up Your Ass?" Answer: My foot if it were at all possible. I know we spent part of the afternoon at the beach and went to Blue Agave for dinner but the rest of the details are fuzzy. See, as the vacation goes on, the brain starts to relax as well and a relaxed brain is not a detail retaining brain.

Thursday we went to Reno, specifically Circus Circus, but I touched on this during my Mid-week post. We then spent about eighteen hours driving around looking for Costco, the library, The Pirate Ship Restaurant and an In n Out Burger. We arrived home around 8PM and I made the mistake of eating some Tyson® Buffalo Style Boneless Chicken Wings and had the pleasure of a buffalo style shit attack the following morning. You have been warned.

OK, let's wrap this up.

Friday it was back to the beach at Chambers Landing followed by cocktails and dinner at my in-laws pad. Some bears were spotted lumbering across the road, dominoes were played and we stumbled home around 11:30. We spent Saturday, our last full day, at our beach at Dollar Point. It was a typical day of beach fun. Sunday, my birthday –yes I will accept your belated well wishes, we met for lunch at the River Ranch before making the long trek home. Long because we made numerous stops along the way (Colfax, Old Sacramento, and the Sacramento County Jail) in an attempt to collect photos for the Great Road Trip Scavenger Hunt.

And so another vacation draws to a close. I'll be posting a new photo album anon. If you're lucky, I'll post some pics of my tan lines.

Comments

[Rebecca Ortiz]

"buffalo style shit attack" LMAO! That's all. :)