DOUBLE TROUBLE (Part One)

I have never been overly fond of high school or college reunions, especially when they weren’t my alma mater. However, when George called W.S., and told him that their college fraternity class was having a reunion, and that tickets for a football game were included, it was just too much for W.S. to resist. He had a few vacation days coming, and wanted me to see where he had misspent his youth.

“It’s only an eight-hour drive,” he pleaded. “And you like George and Cheris.” I had to admit that George was a fine fellow, and Cheris was okay in small doses. It wasn’t that I didn’t like her; I just wanted to avoid her shrill voice. Cheris had vocal chords with a range pitched so high, that I didn’t want to stand under a crystal chandelier when she got wound up. “But then,” I rationalized, “How bad can one weekend be?”

The next morning, George rang our bell, and told us that he was double parked, so we hurried to the car. “Hi, Cheris!” I said, as I climbed into the back seat. “Ha, Ha, Ha,” she trilled, “I’m not Cheris.” “What do you mean, you’re not Cheris?” I replied, “Of course, you are.” “No, she’s not,” a voice shrieked beside me. “That’s my identical twin, Claris. Scoot over!” Scoot I did, and now I was sitting in the middle of a stereo nightmare. On either side of me were two of the best arguments against egg splitting I have ever experienced. Doomed I was to be wedged between these identical twins, of identical voice pitch---for eight hours.

For some reason, the sisters thought they could shout to one another right through my head. I guess they figured there was nothing that would interrupt their conversation on the way through my ears. After two hours, I remembered that Cheris loved to play games, so I suggested Charades. Other than “smother your neighbor with a pillow,” it was the only quiet game I could come up with. “I’ve never heard of playing Charades in a car,” said Claris. “Well, now you have,” I replied, closing my eyes. “Guess what I am.” After a few moments of blessed silence, Claris poked me. “Are you a sleeping person?” “You got it!” I said. “Your turn. Isn’t this fun?”

Charades only lasted for 10 minutes, but then we played, “Twenty Questions.” I think that W.S. played along for a while, but by then my ears were ringing so badly that I couldn’t hear the questions, let alone come up with any answers. I shoved toilet tissue in my ears during the bathroom break, and from then on, games be damned, I sat with a stupid grin on my face for the rest of the journey.

We finally arrived at our destination and checked into the hotel. George asked if any of the other fellows and their wives had arrived. “What fellows?” asked the desk clerk. Each time George gave him a name, the clerk said, “Nobody by that name is registered here.” After the 20^th name, George turned to Cheris and said, “That’s strange. Do you think they checked in somewhere else?” “Did they RSVP the invitations?” she asked. “What invitations?” said W.S. “We didn’t get an invitation.” Looking at me, he asked, “Did we get an invitation?” I shook my head from side to side, as the toilet paper flew out of my ears. After a lively discussion, George came to the conclusion that the invitations, which Cheris had so lovingly designed, had never been mailed and were probably still in the out basket on his messy desk, which he was now doomed to clean up the minute they got home.

“Does this mean that no one else is coming?” I asked. “Looks that way,” said W.S. Giving him my, “I’m going to get you for this,” look, I said, “You mean we drove for eight hours to re-unite with the people we came with?” “But look how much fun we had on the way up,” said Claris. “I’ll call Henry and Maxine,” said George, sounding rather desperate.” They only live three hours from here. Maybe they will join us for the game.” It turned out that Henry and Maxine couldn’t join us, but invited us to stop at their house on our way back.

I was exhausted. My ears were ringing. My head hurt, and I just wanted to go to sleep. W.S. begged off meeting our comrades for breakfast, but we arranged to meet them in the lobby the next afternoon, so we could go to the football game together. It began to drizzle.

 Esther Blumenfeld (To be continued---) 

CROSSING WITH THE BLUE LIGHT, Blumenfeld c. 2006