Saturday, March 31, 2007

HHI, weddings, babies, PETA, Mommy Dearest

Last night I had a creepy dream.

I found myself in Hilton Head Island, SC, where I was looking at waterfront condos. Unfortunately, my mother was along, and she was pitching the most embarrassing line to the realtor and everyone else looking at or showing the properties.
"Oh, this kitchen is too small for my daughter. She is an excellent cook. Do you know what she does for a living? She's a _____. She has a law degree but doesn't practice. Ever heard of someone with a law degree not practicing? But I don't care, she's my daughter and I'm proud of her." There she was, lying again. She didn't even know what she was talking about, as usual. I tried to lose her a few times, and pretended that I didn't know her. I'd look at her curiously, as if she amused me in a roadside attractionesqe sort of way, hoping that everyone else would feel sorry for me because this stranger had latched on to me.

It must have been a Saturday, because everywhere I looked, I saw brides and bridesmaids and grooms and groomsmen, all dressed up in their wedding finery. Hundreds of them, swishing past me and Mom and the realtor. Every different style of gown imaginable was represented it seemed, and I felt a bit out of place in my cargo capris and sneakers. Dirty sneakers. So the last condo had a special feature. In the basement (I know that there probably aren't basements at HHI, but it's my dream, right?) there was a secret tunnel to the basement of the local mall.

Sure enough, I ended up in a marble-clad monstrosity, complete with every department store I've ever heard of and more. I realized that I was holding a baby. He was probably 9 months old. I was alone, and I didn't know how to get back to the condos. I wandered around, hoping that someone would recognize the child, but nobody did. I didn't have my purse with me, so no money for some coffee, which I was beginning to fear I would likely need.

Something started to smell. Really stink! It was the kid. He started to get fussy. I started to get fussy.
He got fussier. I quickly found a restroom, and with relief, barged in. But it didn't have one of those baby changing stations! There was nowhere to change a baby! What is wrong with society? When a helpless young law-degreed-pride-of-her-mother's-heart dreamer can't find a baby changing thing in a freaking mall?

I rushed out, this time in a panic. In front of me, I saw a hospital-like triage area and some medical personnel hanging about. I ran up to the counter, "Please, I need to know where the nearest restroom with a baby changing thing is. It's an emergency." A girl looked at one of the men sitting on their asses, and reluctantly said, "I'll show her." She took off in another direction, and I followed. We passed a pet shop on our right, where PETA was protesting something. They had all sorts of stuffed animals chained together, with some activists chained to the stuffed animals, and the whole apparatus prevented anyone from entering the store. "Serves them right, cruel bastards," I thought, although I didn't have time to see what the crime was.

Finally. I was shown to a restroom with a baby changing thing. I pulled it down, put the baby on there, tore off the diaper, threw it away, and then realized that I didn't have a diaper to replace the one I just threw away.
End of nightmare. Thank god. Last time I ever take Mom with me to open houses.

1 comment:

ZuDfunck said...

Nice style you have...

the mix of images and text

my compliments