It's So Hard To Type With A Gun In My Mouth (10 page)

So I'm sitting in coach reviewing my trip. First class to New York, limo pick up, hotel, food, limo for the day, limo to the airport, 3000 dollars in travel vouchers.  The check is definitely bouncing.

The plane lands and there is my driver... he takes my luggage and drives me home. He leaves, I tip him, wave good-bye and run inside to get my car keys. I throw my bags on the comforter that no one is allowed to sit on (that's how rushed I was) and run to the bank to deposit the check.  Six working days later it bounces like a kiddy bouncy hut. I'm not so stupid... with a head cold I can smell bad fish.  But, in this case, it's not all bad. I had earned 15000 air miles and 3000 dollars in travel vouchers...lemons to lemonade.

The following week the limo driver called me. "Did your check bounce?"  I told them yes and then learned the checks to the airline, the hotel, the restaurants... they all bounced. The TV show was a scam to the tune of 250 Thousand dollars. I was not the only person who got the royal flushed treatment... many entertainers had been flown out. It was the weirdest show biz experience of my life but I came out smelling like a rose.

I decided to take my travel vouchers and buy a ticket to Paris and this is where it gets good.

March 22, 2006
- TRIP TO PARIS Part II

OK, so I had been given a 3000-dollar travel voucher and was about to purchase a ticket to Paris for the dream trip of a lifetime. Then I remembered I was agoraphobic. I can't go to a country where I didn't speak the language, who would feel my forehead to see if I had a temperature? How could I ask where suicide prevention was? Who would cut my steak?  I remembered that Bella, my neighbor, spoke French fluently and so I made her an offer. "I'll buy you a ticket to Paris, you take care of the hotel."  I had a travel companion, which made me sound like I was an elderly woman in a wheelchair but I didn't care.

And so the day of departure was very exciting, the dogs were in the kennel, the house sitter was in place, the phones were covered, the bills were all paid...nothing was going to get in my way of having a good time. Nothing but my LIFE!  Then, in the cab on the way to the airport, Bella says, "Shit".  ME. "What shit? What are you shitting about, we're six minutes into the trip, how could you shit already?"  And she turns to me... "I forgot my luggage keys."  "Bella!!! How are we going to get through customs?" to which she says, "I speak French, I'll just explain to them what happened and we'll be fine."  Thank you! I now have my 13-hour flight obsession... not being allowed into France for lack of keys.

I get on the plane and we have great seats...bulkhead... center. I am on the aisle. Across the aisle from me is a dark woman with a mustache. I smile, she smiles. I stop smiling and she doesn't... and she smiles...and she smiles...and she smiles...and she smiles...and she smiles...and she smiles...and she smiles. Out of the corner of my mouth I say to Bella, "utna on the ailsekay".  We take off and Mona Lisa is still smiling... and staring at me. They serve the drinks...she's still smiling.  I'm like; so uncomfortable I want to pluck my eyebrows off. Bella has a wonderful sense of humor and loves torturing me so she reaches over me and says to the dream girl, "First time to Paris?" To which Miss Toothpaste replies... "I first go time. Me see. Me see".

This now opens the door to a wide area of conversations with  "Rain woman".  "I come to book. I see. You see. Book on table. I run with book. Come look at book."  And other unnatural phrases she's learned at Berlitz.  Bella is wetting herself she is laughing so hard. I am on the aisle and must maintain composure however, it's not working. The more Gunga Din talks the harder it is for me to keep a straight face. Now I start laughing at Miss Malaprop and Miss Malaprop starts laughing. And that's how I spent the first 6 hours on the plane...laughing with Mrs. Goodbar.

Finally the movie starts and I'm saved. We land and then I remember about Bella and her keys. She's fine with it as she approaches immigration. "Bon jour" and lots of other French words that I don't understand.  She's very composed and positive... the agent is not.  I see him take her and her luggage to a private room. She turns to me and says,  "They are going to open my bags."   The immigration guy looks at me and says, "Are you with her?" I nod... I'm in a private room; a room in which they are removing every single thing from my suitcase.... including tooth paste which they stick a prod in and my pills, which I had to explain. "This one is for anxiety and this one is to sleep and this one is for anxiety when I sleep and this one is to bite in case I'm captured behind enemy lines." No laugh... I need a pill. "They take out every piece of clothing I have packed and shake it, tap it and pat it down and when they are finished with the packed clothes they start on the ones I'm wearing.  I am strip searched and given a prostate examination, if you get my drift.  The ordeal lasts about an hour and I am cleared. It appears I look like some terrorist... me?

I meet Bella in the waiting room and see her luggage has been pried open and all her stuff is in plastic bags. She looks at me and says, "There's not truth to the rumor the French are not friendly... look how nice they packed my plastic bags". I am not in a good mood. I've been in the country ten minutes and I've already been prison raped... and without dinner and a movie.

So we gather up what's left of our belongings and we head to the hotel. We walk in with shopping bags and suitcases wrapped in masking tape and our hair all a mess and I can't sit.  Bella gives the desk clerk our names; he looks up the file. "Oh. I am so sorry." He purrs in a French accent. "Your rooms are not ready." tick-tick-tick... "When will they be ready?" I growl. And he says, "Thirteen hours."  "THIRTEEN HOURS!!!!" Bella calms me down. "Let's get something to eat. They'll hold our clothes Baggies"

I have wanted to go to Paris all my life but so far it's not what the brochure said it would be. The hotel clerk takes our crap and we go out for pizza. We're in the gourmet capital of the world and she takes me to Shakeys. I am really depressed at this point. Bella can see I am not happy and pays for the pizza... not spending money always makes me happy.

The pizza comes and we begin to dine. Bella is all up and happy. She's telling me about what we're going to see this week as I take the first bite. I'm chewing when Bella notices the expression on my face. "What's wrong?"  And as calmly as I can, I tell her. "I have just swallowed at 1600 dollar gold and porcelain crown" And open my mouth to show her the gaping hole left in my smile. She starts laughing... "Oh, don't worry... what goes in must come out."

And that was the understatement of the trip; for the very next day, in my Paris hotel room, I am on a treasure hunt. And that's where the fun really begins.

...To be continued

March 23, 2006 -
TRIP TO PARIS - PART III

So I ate the pizza and swallowed my crown. Bella said not to worry it would come out the next day and I could save it. And I believed her. My first mistake. 

The day after the pizza feast I get up to do my morning rituals. I tell Bella, "I'm going to the bathroom." and she says, "You'll need something to find your tooth."   So she gets the room cart and hands me my surgical equipment, a plate and a fork.  I head into the bathroom and she heads down to the lobby. We're going to Versailles; she needs directions.  In French bathrooms there is a toilet and a bidet. (A fixture similar in design to a toilet that is straddled for bathing the genitals and the posterior parts.) The French are so piss elegant. Ain't they?

My ritual is done and I get everything on the plate. YA-HOO, I'm a shit wrangler! Then, I start the task of probing. It's like looking for a body in an avalanche.  I sit on the bidet and am deep into my work. I cannot believe I'm doing this. Who would believe it? This is not what I came to Paris for.

So anyway, did you ever get so deep into your work that all surroundings cease to exist? That's how I was on this 1600-dollar treasure hunt. I was working in complete concentration. Then, for no reason, I look up... and, much to my chagrin, the maid is standing there. Ashen. "Monsieur! NO!!!" And she runs out of the room. I am now known, by the hotel staff, as The American Shit Eater.

Bella comes up. "What did you do to the maid? I just passed her in the hall and she's crying." I tell her what just happened and Bella starts on a laughing jag that lasts 15 minutes. Every time she composes herself, she looks at me and starts all over again.    "You'll find it tomorrow." she says as she wipes away a tear. "Do you want me to wash your plate?" And she's off again laughing. 

We take the train to Versailles and Bella is still giggling.  Versailles is magnificent, looks a lot like my Aunt's house on Long Island.... only with less gold.  We're enjoying the gardens when I say to Bella... "I have to go to the bathroom again." And she says, "I'll get you a plate and fork."  I go once a day like clockwork so I am sure this second time is the tooth eating its way out.

I get to the men's room but in France they have a woman who sits in the entry. She says in broken English." I take the plate?" And I shake my head no. "I need it." RED FLAG! RED FLAG!  I'm in the stall and I see two sets of feet outside the door. There is a tap on the stall door. "Monsieur! Would you come out? Sil vous plait."  And now I'm trying to explain to the police why I need a plate and fork in the toilet. They're not buying it and we are thrown out of Versailles. Bella is in her glory. "Oh God, I wish you had found the tooth there... Versailles is the perfect place to find a crown" and she's screaming with laughter. Meanwhile I look like Aretha Franklin with a huge gap in my mouth.

Ok this goes on for the rest of the week. Plate, Bidet, Fork... plate, bidet, fork. Nothing. No tooth. Now I'm sure it's hooked itself onto something in my intestine and it's going to cause some kind of abscess that will explode. I'll need a colostomy bag and will never be able to wear shorts again.

We arrive back in LA and I call my dentist for an emergency session. She makes a temp for me because the next day I am opening in Vegas. I figure I'll make one last ditch effort at home to find the tooth. I take a triple dose of Ex-lax. I am determined to get this tooth out of me. Next morning... it's like my intestines died. Nothing. Not even gas. I chalk it up to eight year old Ex-lax (I really have to clean out my medicine cabinet more than once a decade).

I'm on the plane and we are taxing down the runway. We're at 350 mph and the nose is just about to lift off when all of a sudden my asshole explodes. I have never had to go so badly in my life. The seat belt sign is on but if I sit there they're going to have to repaint the cabin. I need to get to the bathroom. Now the plane is in assent and at a 45-degree angle as I pull myself up out of the seat and up the aisle. The flight attendants...all of them.... start screaming "GET BACK IN YOUR SEAT... THE SEAT BELT LIGHT IS ON.”  To which I reply, "If I don't get to that bathroom, we're going to arrive in Vegas 15 minutes early because the jets on this plane are nothing to what's about to blow out my ass."

I make it to the bathroom. (This is all before 9/11...today I would have been shot but back then things were a lot looser, you should excuse the expression.)  And lo and behold there is the tooth. I reach down to get it and the plane hits a rough spot. The flap on the toilet bottom gives way and the tooth drops into the tank of waste. I am now screaming profanity like a champion!  There is a knock on the door. It's the captain. I'm in deep shit, literally. He sits me down and explains why I have to sit in my seat or will be arrested when we arrive in Vegas. I tell him the tooth story starting with the maid.  "Get back in your seat." is all he said.

EPILOGUE

I'm at the dentist and I tell her about the plane ride. And she says, "Steve, even if you found it...would you really want me to put it back in your mouth?" She's got a point!

THE END

March 23, 2006, 9:24 a.m. -
MY CAR GETS STOLEN

So far nothing has fallen on me. There is no fire. I have all my teeth and my mother hasn't called. It's just another day.  I keep remembering stories I want to tell you, but it's always when I'm on the toilet or in the shower...and there's no usable paper in there.

I have a minor trauma today. The guys showed up to clear off the hill behind my house. In LA you have to clear your hill as protection against fire or else you get fined. I am happy to say I have never had a fire but the year is young and maybe soon!  The hill guys were due here next Monday... but here they are 8:00 a.m. on Friday. My day is totally fucked. I have business meetings I need to be at but I can't make them because I have to be here to scream, "NO!! Not that tree!" But that's not a "life sucks" moment...it's only a burp at the banquet table of daily existence.   I can't find anything funny in it... what's wrong with me? It's the Beta Blockers?