Time Fries!

Time Fries! by Fay Jacobs Read Free Book Online

Book: Time Fries! by Fay Jacobs Read Free Book Online
Authors: Fay Jacobs
the gay pride we felt was only barely more than the personal pride I felt surviving this particular camping experience. It was my outward bound, kids, and, as I am fond of saying, bad decisions often make good stories.
    The decision was to stay overnight in the RV on the bridal party’s driveway the night before the wedding reception and the night of the party itself. Okay, on its own, it wasn’t a bad decision, given the expectation of two days and nights of eating, drinking, and dancing. So the devil, they say, was in the details of powering up the camper.
    On Friday, after pre-wedding dinner and dancing, as I closely monitored the New York Senate marriage equality vote on my smart phone, its battery gave out, making it a dumb phone in every way. So, we said our goodnights and headed to the RV, where I could plug in the Droid and follow up our live pre-wedding party with the virtual New York gay wedding watch.
    But alas, a second RV was on site as well, and with both of us plugged into the same garage electric circuit, disasterstruck. Minutes after we staggered back to the creature comforts of The Bookmobile, the circuit blew, plunging us into total darkness. Minus the air-conditioner, the RV soon became a pitch-black Native American sweat lodge.
    â€œCrap, even Motel 6 leaves a light on for you. God, it’s dark in here,” I said, “and no guide dogs. But I’m glad they’re with the dog sitter, not suffocating with us.” As I lay frying, indeed. No air, no light, no marriage equality updates.
    â€œWe’ll be okay,” Bonnie said, “it will cool off soon. But let’s sleep with our heads at the foot of the bed where there’s more air circulating.”
    As we reclined, about-face, panting and sweating, a miracle happened, and we drifted off to sleep, aided, perhaps, by three hours of champagne toasts.
    Suddenly, Bonnie let out a honking snort of a snore, I scooted over to smack her, but being upside down on the bed, I went the wrong way and fell off, wedging myself between the bed and the wall.
    â€œWhat the hell???” hollered Bonnie, jolted awake by the thump and the expletives. She turned to find me, and likewise, went east, not west, plunging off the other side of the bed. Now we’re both between a rock and a hard place on opposite sides of the bed and of course, starting to laugh.
    But it was searing hot in the vehicle and we were desperate. So, getting back to her feet, Bonnie feels her way by Braille, inching to the control panel to turn on the battery operated fans. Who cares if the batteries die and the rig won’t start tomorrow. It won’t matter if we suffocate tonight. I reach out to guide her back to bed promptly poking her in her eye, and while she’s flailing and shouting “Ow,” she crashes into my knee caps and we’re now back in a pile on the floor, still laughing.
    Back in bed, air starting to move a little, we drift off—and then we hear it: a beep like a smoke detector. Beep. Beep. Beep.
    Me: “Jeez, now what?”
    â€œIt’s that thing on the wall,” Bonnie says, presumably pointing to the tiny red light blinking on the plastic device at the head of the bed. I inch toward it on my hands and knees, put my face up to the meter, with one eye trying to read the words by the glow of the blinking, beeping red light. The largest letters say “Replace by 2006.” Oh, goody.
    Me: “I can’t see this thing, shit, it’s like the bottom line on the eye chart. Nobody our age can read this. Wait, wait, oh for god’s sake, it’s in French. It says defaults…oh, here’s the English, F-A-U-L-T. It says fault.”
    Bonnie: “Fault? What does that mean?”
    Me: “It means it’s your fault. This whole camping thing is your fault. Why did you ever think I could adapt to living like this? Jews don’t camp.”
    So the two of us are laughing again and have to pee, and

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