The End of the Day

"Addie's Day" did not end with dinner, in fact, things were only getting started. The following is the story of a very interesting night for the Spanglers Three:

Just after dinner Greg got a call from the hotel. It seems there was a large Hispanic wedding taking place and the band and the dj weren't working together and they needed Greg to come in and rent out and operate some equipment for the wedding reception. Off he went (not too excited about it all). Amy and Niki decided to rent a "chick flick" and make the most of the time together. Greg called home after about an hour, announcing that he would have to stay at the hotel all night and "don't wait up."

Greg's Evening:
Greg got everything in place for the wedding reception and the band started playing. Now this wasn't the kind of music he normally listens to, unless you count when the neighbors have a loud party. This was "Banda," Hispanic music with a lot of tuba, played by men with big guts who wear cowboy boots and matching outfits (this is of course a broad generalization). They played LOUD and the party of drunken dancers got started. After thirty minutes, the band started packing up. Bewildered, Greg asked what was going on. That's when he saw them- band #2- which he described as Banda's version of a boy band. A thirteen-piece group (3 drummers, 1 tuba, 2 trombones, 3 trumpets, 1 oboe, 1 clarinet, and 2 vocalists) that sounded like a cross between skaw and mariachi (so he says).

When the second band had finished and the third came on scene, Greg was really grateful he'd put in earplugs. They played until 2 am, at which point Greg turned off the speakers. They finally called it a night and Greg got home, exhausted, at 3 am.

Meanwhile... back at the ranch...
Niki's Evening:
Just as Amy and I were finishing the movie, we both saw a very fast, big bug go crawling across the front of the entertainment center. We both sucked in our breath and pulled our legs up off the floor (why do women do this? It's as if we are afraid that immediately more bugs are going to come crawling out from under the couch). "What was that?" I said, "I'm not sure" she replied.

Amy bravely stood up on the couch to get a better look at our torturer. "Was it a roach or a spider?" (I didn't want to know the answer). "Spider." "I'm calling Chris" I said (our neighbor and friend, who could lend a little testosterone to this situation). The phone rang. More ringing. Oh no, they were already in bed. No one answered the phone. I left a panicked message that I'm sure they laughed at the next morning. Then I told Amy I was going for help. She was still standing on the couch- wanting to see the bug so we knew where it was, but not wanting to see it at the same time.

I went outside to see if ANYONE had lights on, and only two other people did. Swallowing my pride, I knocked on the first door. Our neighber R.G. answered and said he'd be glad to help. When we returned to the apartment, Amy was still on the couch pointing at the floor. "It crawled over there!" (this little bug didn't like to crawl behind things, he liked to go out in the open just to freak us out).

R.G. looked but couldn't find him anywhere. He asked me if I had a fly swatter. I ran into the kitchen and grabbed it, so glad to be helpful in some way. "I've got it!" I said victoriously, feeling so proud of myself, like arming a knight with his sword. "Good" he said, "now if it comes back out, you hit it with that! Goodnight!" And off he went.

Of course it came back- and almost as soon as he was gone. With flyswatter in hand I made the approach. Amy made the classic female statement of fear "don't let it get away!" Because the only thing worse than seeing a big bug is seeing it get away. I smacked it once against the wall and when it fell to the ground my fear motivated the finishing blows- all 20 of them. I whacked on that thing with primal instincts until it's pathetic little carcass was hardly recognizable. Then Amy and I high-fived and celebrated like we'd won the World Series. I wanted to leave it on the floor to show Greg, but the cats immediately wanted to come eat it (where were they when it was alive?!?!?!?!). So now you understand why Greg came home at 3 am to find a drinking glass and spider carcass on the kitchen floor.

We had a good laugh telling each other about our wild nights. Never a dull moment at our house!