‘Twas the afternoon on Christmas, when all through Phoebe’s parents house Creatures were stirring, hipsters and Jew louses!
Yesterday afternoon, Alex, Ilya, Sari and I piled into Phoebe’s car and drove west on I-10 to the Pacific Coast Highway, which we took north for a mile or two until we reached Pacific Palisades. The car ride was slightly tense, as Phoebe echoed her earlier sentiments about how nervous she was bringing such riffraff into her parent’s home. She repeated this throughout the car ride, and we tried to allay her fears by reminding her that we’re not such bad people that we’re going to wreck up the place or leave a sour taste in anyone’s mouth. Still, she seemed a bit anxious.
And, of course, we absolutely charmed the shit out of her parents, grandparents, aunt and uncle. We gorged ourselves on a Thanksgiving-like feast of turkey, stuffing, blintz soufflé, cranberries, yams, breads, salads and more. We drank champagne, wine, beer (and soda pop, for me). Her aunt asked everyone what their first concert was to break the ice, and everyone laughed at my expense when I told them it was a double bill of Boys II Men and TLC. It would certainly not be the last time I was chided. Phoebe’s grandfather spoke at length about growing up in Jersey City, and asked Alex about monuments he remembered from his youth. When all our bellies were full, we played a rousing game of Apples to Apples. I came in last place; I was the only person at our table of eleven not to win a round of the game. And to make matters worse, when the adjective card was “Absurd,” Sari had the gall to write-in “Evan” on her blank noun card. Then everybody laughed like a bastard. Talk about adding insult to injury. I can’t believe I didn’t win a single round of that game. Phoebe’s grandmother even won a round, by saying that “Pond Scum” was “Outrageous.” I know.
Before dessert, we drove over to the bluff to watch the sun as it set over the Pacific. It was beautiful. Then we walked out onto a jetty-like cliff, turned around, headed back to the car and returned to the house. Dessert was an Australian meringue cake thing that was quite good. Phoebe’s mom brought out some photo albums, and I finally had the opportunity to laugh at somebody else’s expense. When the time came, we departed and returned to Echo Park. In the car ride on the way home, during the first two or three minutes of our voyage, I let loose a flurry of increasingly vulgar remarks. It’s hard for me to stay in character all day when I have to act like a normal human being in front of nice old people.
Later on, Phoebe dropped by to say her family loved us all. We were each reviewed on an individual basis. Sari was “decorated”, and “a participant.” Alex was “very intense and deeply passionate about the things he likes, but with the ability to be equally light-hearted and funny.” Ilya was “not what we expected,” which is partially my fault because Phoebe’s mom read my top-ten list of things I like/hate about Ilya, and figured he would be “too cool for school,” when in fact “he was really nice and down-to-earth.” I was “outgoing,” if you can imagine that. She also said something about me being “comfortable in my skin,” or “in touch with myself.” I don’t remember exactly. Also, I was grandma’s favorite, which really warmed my heart to hear. I guess after being such an introvert for so long, I figured I would never, ever again be referred to as anything remotely related to outgoing.
After some more food, an episode of Planet Earth and an episode of Garth Marenghi’s Dark Place, Alex crashed early, Ilya disappeared, and I spent the remainder of my night uploading and deleting music from my iPod. All told, I give my first ever Christmas a score of six bloody hooks, making it better than a Baja Fresh Nacho Burrito, but slightly worse than Wegmans.
