THE LADY WITH THE KITTY CAT SWEATSHIRT

My mom finally dragged me out of my peaceful squalor for dinner at MCL. I was quite reluctant to go (missing teeth, and all), and I whined and complained as she nagged me to go. And then she said what ALL parents say when they feel their children are being neurotic and vain, "It could be a lot worse, so count your blessings. Instead of missing teeth, you could be missing a limb."

YEAH MARY, I COULD BE...BUT I'M NOT...

I pulled on my favorite jeans, the ones I've been wearing since I was fourteen. She frowned in disdain, "I can't believe you're still wearing those tattered old things. They're filthy and stained." I smiled cheekily back at her, "Well mother, if you're going to drag me from my room into the public eye WHILST missing teeth, I'm going to wear what I want, and you're not going to say another word..."

This seemed to shut her up for a while.

Mary had managed to follow normal traffic laws, and for once I wasn't white-knuckling the elbow rest. I breathed a sigh of relief as she careened the BMW into a parking spot. The bright lights of the familiar cafeteria glowed pleasantly. I love MCL. I love anything that has to do with large groups of elderly, together in one place. I connect with the elderly. They get me, I get them. It's always been that way. I understand their arthritic pains, because I, too have arthritis; and they seem to like me. The old men at Bob Evans ALWAYS flirt with me, making jokes I've never heard before, "Get me an arnold palmer..no rum!" Ha. Ha. Ha. "Clever, sir!"

As we walked in, I smiled. These were my people.... I happily surveyed the crowd: two walkers, four canes, eight hats, and three fur coats. The elderly know what's up. I was starving after a long day of lying in bed, so I carefully chose my meal. Two chicken legs, mashed potatoes, corn, yeast roll, unsweetened tea with three lemons. This was bliss. Carefully, I picked up my tray of 2000 calories and quickly scanned the dining hall. What we needed was a booth. And, joy of joys, there was one open booth left! The flourescent lighting above the table seemed to twinkle as I slid into place. I began to un-tray my food, and I licked my lips with delight. My mom followed behind, "Good score on the booth," she said.

As we began to plunge into our meals, our ears perked at a shrill sound. Loud, twinkling, metalic. It could only be the ringtone of someone over fifty. My mother closed her eyes and inhaled deeply through her nose. She had a headache, I could tell by the crinkle between her eyebrows. But WHERE was the ringtone coming from, I wondered..And then a sugary-sweet voice barked into her phone, "HELLO STEVEN, HOW ARE YOU?" Why adults think they need to scream into their phones is beyond me. But they are always doing this in public. It's kind of pathetic, and at the same time, makes you want to rip the phone from their hands, and hit them over the head with something made of metal.

I flinched in pain. I suddenly realized that the sappy voice that broke the sound barrier was from the woman at the booth behind me. I had been unable to take my eyes off of her as I walked into the dining room because of the darling sweatshirt she was wearing. It was white, with little grey kittens with roses prancing around. Underneath, she doned a green turtleneck. She wore glasses as thick as bottle caps, and her bottle-red hair was teased. Obviously, she was a plot from PUNK'D and in a few minutes, Ashton was going to pop out in his Von Dutch trucker hat, and yell, "DUDE YOU JUST GOT PUNK'D!"

Kitty Cat sweatshirt-lady began a tirade about her recent airline experiences, "I'M REALLY DISAPPOINTED WITH NORTWEST AIRLINES THESE DAYS. I MEAN, THE SEATS WERE SO UNCOMFORTABLE, NOT TO MENTION THE FACT WE SAT ON THE RUNWAY FOR AT LEAST TWENTY-FIVE MINUTES.." she continued.

I realized that Kitty Cat sweatshirt-lady was NOT going to shut up. It had been ten minutes since she picked up the phone, and I had learned much about her love-life. Not only were she and her boyfriend John, going to be married in June, but they had met on an all-Christian dating website. They were "completely in love". They finished each others sentences, and "never disagreed on anything." He had two kids from a previous marriage, so he was really excited when he met Kitty Cat sweatshirt-lady because she was unable to bear children. It seemed obvious to me that she was on uppers, and that John was gay.

I finished my meal long before my mother, so I was forced to listen to Kitty Cat Lady ramble on and on about John, her cell-phone plan, Kansas, and wedding plans for a solid twenty minutes. By this time, the dining room was completely silent, and the only sound you could hear was, you guessed it...Kitty Cat Lady. I wanted to take my fork, reach over, and stab her in the head.

I kept sighing audibly, so that Kitty Cat Lady might hear me. "CAROLINE, STOP IT. YOU'RE EMBARRASSING ME," my mother hissed underneath her breath. "I'm embarrassing?" I laughed. I shook my head and picked at the leftover corn on my plate. I glanced around at the other diners, and they all had the same expression, as if they were being made to watch babies being skinned alive and fed to alligators. I imagined I had the same look on my own face.

Kitty Cat Lady continued, "YOU KNOW, EVER SINCE DAD GOT THAT HEART PROBLEM DIAGNOSED, THINGS HAVE JUST REALLY GONE DOWN HILL," I put my head down on the table as she relayed the story some more, to poor Steven, "I MEAN, HE'S JUST A TICKING-TIME BOMB AT THIS POINT. THE DOCTORS SAY HE'S INOPERABLE. HE DOESN'T GET OUT OF HIS WHEEL CHAIR AND HE HARDLY REMEMBERS ANY OF US. WE'RE BASICALLY JUST WAITING FOR HIM TO DIE. I THINK HE SHOULD BE PUT IN A HOME..."

At this point, I'd had enough. I got up from the table, and my other seemed to understand. I went to the the little "lobby" at the front of the restaurant and played with my cell-phone. Amazing, even thirty feet away, I could still hear Kitty Cat Lady.

And even though Kitty Cat Lady had completely ruined my dinner, and I was now ready to tackle the next person who spoke, and shove them down a flight of stairs, I was thankful to my mother; who, loved me enough to bring me out in public, even though I was missing teeth.