I can't remember where Sunday went. I know it was a full day. I suppose much of the day was spent talking and catching up with family. We had lunch at the house. Uncle Ted cooked some fried catfish, which seems to be very popular in these parts. It was very good. I'm not sure why we don't see more of it on the east coast (or perhaps I'm just not looking hard enough). After lunch I took Uncle Ted and Aunt Kay to a wireless hotspot to show them how to use their wireless cards. We then hurried to Brionna's Birthday party.
Brionna's birthday party was huge. It was actually a combined party for her and her friend (who's name I'm forgetting at the moment, maybe Elle). I think there were about 50 kids running around. Doug had organized all these games for them to play, and divided them up into groups. The adults were all given tasks (mine was to photograph) supervising the various events the kids had to compete at.
Aunt Kay has a Vespa that she hasn't ridden it in over a year (only had 16 miles on it), and she wanted me to see if I could get it to start. Surprisingly, it started without much trouble, but was nearly out of gas, so she asked me to take it to get gas. After sitting for so long without being ridden, the gas that was in there was in pretty bad shape... the kind of stuff that clogs injectors I'm told. This would explain the poor throttle control I experienced on the way to the station.
Now, remember that I'm in Texas, a place where Chelsea assures me that you can get your ass kicked just for saying you support gay marriage, regardless of your sexual orientation. Now picture me putting down the road at 35 mph on a turquoise Vespa with a matching helmet. Just about everybody I passed, and who passed me took a good long look at me. I even heard one woman laugh at me as she turned left in front of me from the opposite direction. I saw some rough looking gangster types look at me in a way that made me feel very uncomfortable.
After filling up the tank, I wanted to see if they had any of that stabilizer stuff you can put in your tank to help preserve the gasoline between infrequent rides. So I walk in wearing my Diesel jeans and a black turtleneck, and asked the service attendant. He wasn't sure what I was talking about, so he yelled "Is there anything you can put in one of those Vespas to preserve the fuel?" back to one of the mechanics. The mechanic walked into the room with a smirk on his face, which grew to a full blown smile when he took a look at me. He spent several minutes debating with himself on what the best course of action was, and while he was doing this, he'd occasionally look at the Vespa, or look at me, then he'd have to fight from laughing at me and look away. I kept mentioning that it was my Aunt's Vespa, but I don't think any of the guys in the room were buying it. In the end, he was somewhat helpful, and while I was felt quite emasculated, I was just happy to make it back to the house alive.
That evening, we went to watch Alex's soccer game. Fortunately, his game was in Wichita Falls, as I don't think I'd have it in me to drive back to Dallas for another game. I got more good photos of Alex than of his sisters, because he played on the same side of the field as the spectators.
Tagged with blog, road trip