"How was the visit to the dentist?" was the text message I received Friday afternoon from my mom.
"Cancelled. The dentist is in hospital," I sent back.
"That's too bad. We're going to a piano concert of Chopin tonight. Bye." came the response.
My folks were toodling around in Poland for the past week, and sending regular updates from their mobiles about what they were doing and seeing. I realized how good of a time they're having simply from mom's response; she's been on me to visit the dentist for almost 18 months, which basically means that everytime we've skyped, the question has come up.
I was actually looking forward to going to the dentist, myself, since it has been a bit since my last checkup, and I was slightly surprised that los padres sort of dismissed the cancelled appointment. Had they not been on holiday, they perhaps would have pressed for more details, particularly when the appointment would be rescheduled. Of course, let's see if the lady gets out of the hospital first, and then we'll sort out the termin.
Indeed, my folks are on a 6 week holiday in Europe. They arrived in Frankfurt a couple of weeks ago, and we had a great time just hanging out and catching up. I wisely took some days off during their visit, thus we had more time to just kind of relax. I was particularly glad to see them (Bryan needs a little mom and pop time every so often), and didn't even mind that my dad kept insisting on paying the bill whenever we went out to dinner, though I did feel a bit like a little kid, however one that had to do most of the communication in German.
As always, the entertainment value was super high. My parents are great people, but they never fail to crack me up. I've long been known as a primary source of comic relief in our family, anyway, but this time round was seemingly more special. Perhaps it was the new material that came my way...
Upon their arrival, the explained that they'd had a bit of a struggle at the airport during check-in. The guy at the desk made them check their "carry on" bags, because my dad had asked if the bags were light enough. Of course that meant that they were then instructed to put the luggage on the scale, and when they were found to be over the limit, they had to check them.
My father was particularly irked because most of the other passengers carried on their bags that were much larger (and likely heavier than either of my parents'). Before my father could claim that he'd been made a victim, I pointed out that the other passengers probably hadn't asked if their luggage was too heavy to be carried onto the plane.
My father was also most distressed to find that my doorbell doesn't have my name listed on it, and struggled to understand how it could be identified.
"Dad, there are 8 buzzers, and all of them have names on them save one. I think it's pretty clear, eh? And, I don't have to ring my doorbell when I come home, I use my key!"
It's not as if they're the only easy targets, of course. I had invited my folks to bring some laundry over to take advantage of my facilities, and we spent a morning running a load or two. I had hung everything up to dry, and then was standing on the landing of the stairwell just outside my apartment discussing our dinner plans for later that evening, when a little gust of wind blew through my open balcony door and slammed my front door shut.
"Oh fuck," I said, then immediately clapped my hand to my mouth, astonished that I'd just uttered that explicative. However, what was taking a few moments to sink in for my parents was already clear in my mind. My key was on the inside of the door, which locks automatically. My mobile telephone was inside the house, as was my wallet, etc.
I had an appointment across town in about 25 minutes, and had only been walking my parents to the door before leaving myself. Suddenly, I had a bit of a crisis. Nadja has my spare keys, and she was at work. I would have called her, had her telephone number not been loaded in the memory on my mobile phone which was now locked in my house.
For a few moments, I was unsure of what to do. My dad and mom were a bit helpless, though my dad was ready to take action. (it's not as if this is the first time i've locked myself out...just the first time in Germany). I ran downstairs to see if anyone was in the pub, namely the owner, and sort of yelled to my mother that under no circumstances should she leave the apartment building, otherwise we would all be totally locked out.
Fortunately, the owner of the pub was in his garage. I sort of startled him as I ran in and said, "hi, I need to borrow your extension ladder if you've got one!" Thank goodness he did, and I lugged it back over to my backyard and leaned it up against the balcony, only to find it a bit too short.
My father assessed things for a minute, and decided that I could probably climb as high as I could, then sort of "swing" myself onto the balcony, which was about 1 meter beneath the bottom of the balcony.
"Er, I don't think so."
Back across to the pub, got the extra extension, and, with quite a bit of dad help, we got the ladder long enough to safely reach my balcony. My dad held the ladder firmly, while I climbed carefully up. It was rather a windy day, and I wasn't real thrilled at the whole situation, but my mom was in the background constantly saying, "Sam hold that ladder! Bryan, be careful!"
So, I made it safely to the balcony, got back inside the flat, opened the front door and order was restored. I was even only 5 minutes late to my appointment. Crisis abated, though I knew my folks (father particularly) would have a bit of a laugh about the experience later.
I was very grateful for their help, actually, and we did enjoy several chuckles together later that night at dinner.
The time flew by, and it was suddenly the weekend. We all went to a birthday dinner at a local Spanish restaurant last Saturday night, and it was quite the perfect way to finish their visit. They enjoyed themselves greatly, chatting with various friends and acquaintances, ultimately staying out very late, despite the fact that they had to catch an early flight to Poland the following morning.
We said our goodbyes outside of the restaurant, they went off to the taxi stand, and I went back in to join the festivities, hoping that they'd actually wake up for their flight the next morning.
I got the text message the following afternoon: "We're very cozy in our hotel and watching the snow outside. Thanks for a lovely time. Love, Mom."
Rockin. I'm very fortunate to have nice parents.
keep the faith
bryan
...this warm fuzzy posting is brought to you by hubba bubba (hooba booba) gum, and the little smiley with tongue out emoticon. This weeks soundtrack is a basic mix of Flesh for Lulu, Jesus and Mary Chain, and a handful of industrial covers of songs by the Cure.
No comments:
Post a Comment