Perhaps some of you may recall that I had extended an invitation for a friend to come and visit so we might bury the hatchet. Little did I know the learned man's time was short!
I sent him a round trip ticket from his mountain retreat to Los Angeles. He called to say he would meet me at the airport. I prepared myself with a signboard cut from the side of a Kotex box with his name written in large letters.
A cantankerous grey haired man was the first off the plane, followed by an attractive stewardess who was pushing him ahead. He wore a Sherlock Holmes's hat and a large Nixon button, a cross between Elmer Fudd and Mister Magoo with a little Andy Rooney thrown in for cantankery. Arguing furiously with the stewardess, he threw up his hands, resigned to his fate.
The waiting police escort was called off just in time. Seems he had been muttering about a literary bomb and was misunderstood. Needless to say his return ticket on that airline was canceled.
I met him as he entered the terminal, waving the sign.
"I guess a Trojan box would have been too small," he snarked."
He had only one bag, an old style suitcase.
Heavy as hell, packed with various masterpieces he carried for inspiration and a ten lb. Roget Theosaurous.Too heavy to carry, I rented a wheeled luggage carrier and we proceeded to the parking area.
I helped him up the running board of the yellow Hummer.
"Gas guzzler," he commented under his breath.
"You'll stay with us," I said, "unless you have other plans."
"First we'll see the accommodations," he muttered.
"Can you put on the air conditioning? God damit's hot."
"I thought you lived in the desert."
"You don't know shit about me," he smirked.
For the next half hour we drove in silence.
He had taken control of the radio and was switching rapidly between stations.
"What music do you like?"
"I haven't decided yet," he barked.
Finally the traffic broke and we drove with ease, right up to the driveway of my home.
"Don't you have a garage for this monster?"
