Then I hear a trailer door being opened. "Tiffany?"
"Yeah. I need to pee.'"
"Oh, hell, me, too"
"What should we do?"
Walmart is closed.
Taco Bell is closed.
We do the pee dance.
Then I say, "Well, hell, we've got buckets. Wanna pee in a bucket?"
"I wanna pee in a BUSH."
And then she's out the door, and before I can say, "REALLY?" she's back, only she's not pee
Well. Broken window theory. I mean the bush has already been peed on, ya know?
So the next thing I know it's morning. Six o'clock. I stagger over to Walmart and do a legitimate pee and brush my teeth. I still feel dreadful. Tiffany and Laura are dead to the world. So back to laying quietly and trying not to cough.
Eight AM. I start dialing for doctors. We get wind of a walk-up clinic, and from the map, it looks to be about a mile away. Laura and I will go, and Tiffany will start huntin' down coffee and charms.
Well. Our mile stroll is 90 percent uphill. And. Our map is wrong. We survey the entire freakin' town below from the hilltop -- and call a cab. Who blows us off. So down we trudge.
Finally, we're walking past the Chamber of Commerce, so we walk in to grab a charm and verify where the stupid clinic is. The lovely lady at the CofC looks at us in horror when we mention we're on foot. She looks at me as I cough up a lung. She calls a cab, which shows up about 17 seconds later.
Two hours after leaving the trailer, I am delivered to the doctor. Now, we spent the night in a Walmart parking lot, people. With no power. Everyone's phone is near dead. Mine is just shut down. I try to siphon a little juice into my phone while in the doctor's waiting room. Laura manages to get a text that Tiff is actually near by, at Shari's. So Laura goes to join Tiff for breakfast and pie, and I wait.
A hundred dollars and a doctor later, I have been told that my ears, nose and throat are "not in a happy place right now" and given an Rx for a Z-pack.
Now. While all this has been going on, shortly before my iPhone blackappled me, the garage called and said the front seal replacement would be about $500-$600 and done after lunch. Oh, and they don't take American Express. Platinum, my ass. So for the first time in my life, I'm soon to be a Western Union recipient. Happily, the Western Union is at the Safeway directly across from Walmart where the doctor has phoned my Z-pack into the pharmacy. Finally, I walk over the Shari's and join my girls for a well-deserved piece of pie.
We call the cab people, who know us all too well by now. It is a small town. And get a nice driver, who not only drives us down the massive hill, but also stops at Thompson's RV where we collect our trailer charm. Woohoo.
At Safeway, I'm united with my Z-pack and briefly with my money. I say briefly because I walk across the street to Ziegler's Car Repair and hand most of it over to them.
Easy come. Easy go.
I am also reunited with Big Blue. Tiffany and Laura are back at the trailer packing up. Now that I'm no longer a pedestrian, the town seems extra small and I zip around grabbing charms in a free-for-all. A horse from the feed store! Playing card charm from the Historical Society! A saddle from the famous outfitter Hadley's! It's dizzying, this charm-collecting business. Until Tiffany texts me: R U LOST?
To which I reply, "No, I'm a DUMB ASS, OMW."
So, 24 hours after hour "lunch break," we pull out of Pendleton.