Number three on my list of Episodes from The Trip.
My rapidly unwinding experiment in just the facts.
No commentary. Or as little commentary as I can manage. It’s hard for me. I mean, I’m basically in agony here, but I want to see how you guys respond to these episodes and I don’t want to poison the well. Oh, but I will surely fail at this. Just so you know.
And, yes, I do understand that three strikes means you’re out, but, well, not for purposes of this unfolding story. Oh, no. Not by a long shot.
So at one point:
~ We were in the kitchen, after hours, helping Resort Dude prepare our dinner. His girlfriend was also there and let’s just say her name is Beasley. It’s really not, but, again, let’s just say it is and you can make of that whatever you wish.
~ I began to chop some garlic cloves.
~ He corrected me. “No, no, no. Do it like this.”
~ Beasley was touching him and groping him and pawing him while the dinner prep continued. And that’s just straight factual reporting. It is.
~ We were making scampi.
~ They were groping.
~ Once dinner was ready and we all sat down, Resort Dude said, “I didn’t have fresh parsley. It needs fresh parsley.”
“It’s fine. It’s really good,” we said.
“No. I needed parsley. It’s not the same.”
~ The subject of the problem with the scampi was dropped for a few moments.
~ Then I said, “Whoever chopped this garlic sure did a good job.”
~ MB laughed, but no one else did.
~ Moments later, Resort Dude said, “Darn it! It needs more salt.”
“No, we like it. Thank you. It’s really good.”
~ The subject of the problem with the scampi was dropped for a few moments.
~ It’s worth interjecting here that God taught Resort Dude how to cook.
~ I swear that isn’t commentary.
~ “Okay. I know what I can do. Lemon,” he said, as he disappeared from the table.
~ I brought up the subject of gay people on purpose.
~ Beasley had some opinions on the subject with which I did not agree — based on her personal acquaintance with precisely zero gay people.
~ Resort Dude returned a few moments later with freshly sliced lemon wedges which he squirted atop our already half-eaten scampi.
“There. That’s better. Taste that. It’s better.”
~ He sat back down and the mutual pawing resumed.
~ Moments later, he said, “Part of my witness for the Lord is that I don’t kiss Beasley. We don’t kiss. Because I know I wouldn’t be able to stop.”
(O DEAR BABY JESUS, I am fighting further commentary with every FIBER of my being!! This experiment is going to break me!!)
Uhm, so, yeah. Strike Three.
Oh, but there’s more to come.
I haven’t even gotten to the worst of it yet.
The level of Resort Dude’s cognitive dissonance is astounding. The patience and self control you displayed is equally astounding, to your credit. As others noted in comments to the first two posts, I would not have stayed the first evening. And I would have been civil but blunt about why I was leaving.
My mouth, it is agape. My face, it is twisted in disbelief. My fists, they are clenching. What. a. douchebag.
Uhm. If you want someone to chop garlic a certain way, well, just do it yourself. Otherwise, unless they ask, turn the garlic over to them. And to God, of course.
Pillar of the Community was groping and pawing… and lauding his mad skillz at refraining from kissing her. The groping was his praise. Promise me he isn’t a joke, Tracey. Promise it.
I totally would have laughed at your garlic joke.
While I agree with him that scampi needs fresh parsley, once it isn’t in the dish, and people are eating, it’s time to move on. It’s over, dude. Step away from the lemons. Put the dinner in God’s hands.
I’m cackling at /I brought up the subject of gay people on purpose./ Hahahahaha. Of course you did! I love you.
I can’t believe you had to have dinner with these slatterns and go home to your office cot.
Part of my witness for the Lord is that I don’t run down people like the Resort Dude with my truck because I’m afraid my insurance rates will skyrocket.
Okay, so now I’m actually AFRAID for you and MB. Like the scene in Silence of the Lambs where Jodie Foster is interviewing the cray-cray guy in his house and slowly she realizes she is face to face with a serial psycho-murderer.
Run for your lives.
Poor Beasley. No wonder she’s pawing the man.
Rude, delusional, and hypocritical–what’s not to like?!
I’m with Sheila. If I didn’t know you came out of this alive, I would think that there is a shishkabob skewer to the eye coming in then next scene.
OR MAYBE THERE IS!
Part of my witness for the Lord is that I don’t punch guys like this. I don’t punch. Because I know I wouldn’t be able to stop.
I think we need to airlift Beasley out of there pronto.
My bet is he goes to a church that just had a sex talk series. Somehow he makes it work to his benefit.
Dude needs to stop sublimating his kissing desires into that poor scampi. It just wanted to be liked and eaten.
Having to see all that pawing–and you still had an appetite? My gosh.
I feel really bad. Apparently I have no witness at all to the Lord – I can kiss my wife and stop, we don’t grope in public, we enjoy our dinners as prepared, we can make a bed, clean a bathroom, and do laundry… no wonder He never favored me with His espresso knowledge.
NF — Hahahahaha. You hellbound monster. See you there, I guess. Hahahaha.
halachah of all at nightfly!
sheila — /I think we need to airlift Beasley out of there pronto. /
Hahahahaha. You know, I’m sorry. She’s on her own.