Postaday for June 15th: In a Crisis. Honestly evaluate the way you respond to crisis situations. Are you happy with the way you react?
Of course “crisis” comes from the Greek word “cri” meaning “to shed tears” and “sis” meaning “female sibling.” Isn’t language weird? It turns I don’t have a sister, and I don’t tolerate crying in my presence. But let’s, for the sake of argument (”arg,” meaning “frustration,” “u” meaning “you” and “ment” meaning “a spicy herb used to make refreshing teas and chewing gum,” which altogether means, “frustrating you with language that you sip or chew on” i.e. “blog”) pretend I do have a sister and I do tolerate weeping. How would I evaluate the way I respond?
I’d evaluate my response as excellent. My made-up sister and I have almost nothing in common. I am a white male, married, in my forties, in need of losing a few pounds, fond of video games, running, and procrastinating on my taxes. My fake sister is Indian, single, in her twenties, skinny to the point of making people uncomfortable, and overly fond of extremely bitter chocolate, staying in touch with the friends she made on the Model UN in high school, and getting her taxes done, on, like, January 2nd. Not that she has a job. Lazy!
We had a crisis situation last Christmas, when we were supposed to travel together to our parent’s ranch in Southern North Dakota. Talk about a Clusterfubar. First, our flight was canceled. So we looked at taking the train. We were on the rails for about 30 minutes when, ha ha, the train wrecked. We walked ten miles in the sun and snow to a bus station. Get on the bus, and we’re attacked by zombies. Great. We fend them off, but all the tires on the bus were popped in the process (my sister’s aim with the shot gun is not what it used to be. I blame her liberal arts college). So we flagged down a farmer in his truck. I paid him cash for it. Everything was fine. We drove for about eight hours.
We’re nearly out of gas but there’s signs saying a gas station is ten miles ahead. We pull in and I fill up while my sister goes in to the use the bathroom, buy some salty snacks, call her boyfriend, and call my wife (who isn’t talking to me because she’s mad at me because it was my idea to book a more expensive flight, which got canceled, and the cheaper, not-direct one she booked for me didn’t get canceled, and when she found out she said to me, “Told you so!” and I replied “You only booked the cheap one because you couldn’t go with us— if you didn’t have to work, you would have booked the more expensive direct flight!” And that made her mad because she knows I’m right.)
I top off the tank and screw the gas cap back in. My sister comes out with Doritoes, Skittles, a diet Mountain Dew for me (probably because after talking with my wife on the phone she took her side, the lazy little traitor) and a virgin Lime Ricky inna can for her. And we get in and we drive off and… yes, you guessed it. We get pulled over.
For drinking and driving! Because apparently just because a beverage is a virgin, that is, has no alcohol, the cops will still pull you over “for suspicion.” And I tell the officer “I’m not the one drinking it! Little miss Bolivia over here is the one guzzling it!”
And my sister BURSTS INTO TEARS because she wasn’t Bolivia in the Model UN, she was Paraguay. This is a crisis situation because I’m pretty sure my sister got me an Apple Watch for Christmas (even though I said this was last Christmas. I’m making this up, remember?) and if she thinks I’m trying to be insulting because Bolivia has 10 million people to Paraguay’s 6.5 million (i.e. I’m calling her “fat.” Women!) then she might not give me the watch after all, and, probably, will tell my wife they next time they talk on the phone that when we were shooting zombies on the bus I even shouted “Take that, Carla!” My wife’s name isn’t even Carla!
But I handled the crisis well. I tell the officer “She always cries like that when her brother is accused of murder.” And the officer goes “Murder?” And I’m all like, “Then why did you pull us over” And he says, “Drinking and driving!” And I say “That’s impossible!” And he says “The guy in the gas station said you bought a virgin Lime Ricky inna can!” And I shout “ENTRAPMENT!” because right then I notice officer “Leyner” has the same last name as “Leyner’s Gas n Go.” HA!
The cop blushes. He let’s us go. He gets in his cruiser and leaves. I turn to my sister and say “I always get Bolivia and Paraguay confused. I should know better. Of course you’d be the country that was the home of the Guarani. Only a jerk would represent those damned Quechua. Please forgive me.”
Want to know how the story ends? Not only did I get my Apple Watch, but my sister also called my wife and took the blame for the flight switch. BOO-YA! Yes I do handle crisis situations very well. Like the time I didn’t know how to respond to a blog prompt. 892 words!