GRILL!: The Misadventures of an RV Park Fast-Fry Cook. Diane Stegman

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СКАЧАТЬ or I’ll make your life miserable!” She can be such a pushy little bitch at times. Bandito is ducking his head as if to say, “Please shut her up!”

      Along the way to Hacienda we stop at yet another day use area and breathe in the wonders of nature. I feel so in my element. How often I have wanted to live in a serene and peaceful environment, letting my dogs run free without something around their neck to hold them back, working in my garden, collecting wood for my fire, and living where I could catch glimpses of wildlife. I realize that at fifty-one years of age, it is rather late in my life, and I can’t regret the choices or mistakes that have made me a hostage to myself. For now, here I am, and I’m going to make the most of the moment. Whatever happens after this day, this place in time, is not a concern. I can always worry later. For today, maybe just for this hour, I have no past. I have no future. I am ageless and free.

      I carry this tranquil state of being as I get back on the highway towards Hacienda. The parking lot has several cars in front and three RVs have engines rumbling. Two are pulling out. I notice for the first time the billboard below the Hacienda sign, ‘Annual TRI-TIP dinner Friday 4PM.’ That’s tomorrow! Well, that blows my theory about an easy-going casual job. Am I cooking? Billy couldn’t really expect me to do that! There’s no way. I take a deep breath to stop my anxiety from ruining my morning of joy.

      I park and walk up the stone steps. It’s a warm cloudless morning and feels as if it could even turn hot. The RV spaces look half full of guests. I hear the golf cart off in the distance somewhere. The trashcan is worse than yesterday, and now has a bad odor. If that doesn’t get emptied soon, I will do it myself. It makes the place look so trashy. I can smell the pancakes and bacon from out here. There are five people in line at the cash register, which is also the RV registration counter. Someone other than Billy is working behind the register. She is showing someone a map of the premises and handing them a key. That same roaring male voice I heard yesterday is now laughing loudly at something. The restaurant is full, and a few people are shopping in the aisles for supplies. A small lady about my age scurries from the restaurant to the register with a worried look on her face. I have never seen anyone walk that fast. She rings up a breakfast customer while the other lady checks-in a guest and then scurries back to the restaurant. It’s almost as if she has roller skates on, but she doesn’t. She better slow down.

      I look over toward the kitchen and read Bubba’s special for the day: ‘DON’T KNOW WHAT IT IS. BUT IT’S ALL GRILLED UP WITH MUSKRAT GRAVY.’ As I gag in disgust, I hear that booming male voice yelling, “BETTY! ORDER UP!” I see the very top of the head of the lady with roller skate feet, zoom behind the glass-fronted meat counter that separates the kitchen from the restaurant, and pick up the order.

      “Can I help you?” says the lady who was checking in the guest.

      “Oh yes, hello. My name is Denise. I spoke with Billy about a job, and she had told me to come and pick up the key to the fifth wheel and a key to the restroom today. Is she here?” I gaze toward the doorway where Ray was standing yesterday, but no one appears.

      “Yes, hello Denise. My name is Vi, and Billy told me all about you. Welcome! I’m kind of busy, but the keys are right here.”

      Vi hands me the keys and at that moment I hear and feel the heavy steps of someone on the wood plank floor approaching the counter. I assume its Bubba. I turn around and see a large man in his late thirties with short dark cropped hair. He looks really strong and has a large beer belly that looks as tight as his muscles seem to be. His navy blue shirt is splattered with grease. He also looks mean and intimidating. He pretends to ignore me, but I can tell he’s checking me out. He must have heard the conversation with Vi and myself, since the building is so large and every noise seems to echo.

      Vi does not introduce me and he fiddles with something behind the counter before he stomps back to the kitchen, stopping along the way to bang the back of an old rancher eating breakfast. “DID YA GET THAT CRAPPY OLD TRACTOR RUNNIN’ YET HENRY?” he bellows out as he puts one of his heavy logging boots up on the redwood bench. Henry must be a regular customer since I had heard his name yesterday. Betty scurries past them on her way to the register and almost slips on a wet spot rounding the corner of the table where Bubba is talking. “BETTY! DAMN IT! SLOW THE HELL DOWN! HOW MANY TIMES I GOTTA TELL YA THAT!” She ignores Bubba’s comment but I notice her cowering body language as she passes him, like a frightened puppy. She quickly continues her fast pace to the register. Bubba sounds like a big bully to me. Hopefully I don’t have to deal much with him. I’m not sure if we’d get along very well.

      From what I can see, Bubba is everything I am running from. If he were my boss, I’d never have considered this job in a million years. He reminds me a lot of my father, my ex-husband, my boss in Ashland, and a few of my last and final relationships. Bubba is the type of man who is self-focused, inconsiderate, loud, and completely unaware of how his actions distress those around him.

      I leave the chaos and drive over to the restroom to relieve myself before I get to work on the fifth wheel and unpack my car. My toilet stall has no toilet paper. Maybe Ruby is around and I can tell her about that. Someone is taking a shower and I can smell fruity shampoo.

      As I slowly approach the fifth wheel my stomach tingles with anticipation. I’m not sure if it is excitement or fear. Bonita and Bandito have been observing all that is going on from their vantage point on the pile of blankets, and recognize that we are at some final destination. I need to set up the fences before I can do anything else. A redwood picnic table is about fifteen yards away. I go over and grab one heavy edge and walk it, one side at a time, closer to the trailer. I need to lay out the damp tent and blankets that are on top of the fencing. Bonita’s demanding bark is driving me nuts; so making the dogs comfortable is my number one priority at the moment.

      With everything drying in the warm sunshine, I get the fencing set up around the table, and give the dogs food and water. Next, I dab some tea tree oil on my itching neck and get the keys out of the car. As I walk toward the steps of the trailer, I can hear the golf cart whizzing by on the dirt drive that is on the highway-side of the trailer. The entry faces the lake so I do not get a good look at Terry, but I am aware of how fast she is going, and get a good taste of the dust she’s stirring up.

      The trailer steps go straight out from the doorway. One side has a railing, and the other side is open and dangerous. It would be easy to fall off if one weren’t careful and it seems to me that the fifth wheel could have been parked two or three feet up from this point to avoid the utility post that is located dead center at the bottom of the stairway. It will be awkward avoiding that post while hauling my belongings to the inside, and hopefully, not breaking my neck by falling off the unprotected side. I suppose at some point I could turn the steps so that the open side is against the wall of the trailer and away from the utility post, but not right now, and not alone because they are made of heavy steel.

      At the top of the steps, I turn to look at my view of the park. Hacienda is shaped like a football arena. The lake, or pond, depending on how you see it, is not quite as big as a football field, but close to it in size. The surrounding parking spaces, laundry, showers, main building, would be the stadium area around the field. At about two o’clock and thirty yards from the fifth wheel is a giant propane tank where the guests probably buy their propane. Across from the dirt drive behind the restaurant, and sitting next to the lake, is a big oil drum looking thing, cut in half, hinged open, and set on steel legs. Perhaps it is a homemade barbeque of some sort. The rest of the view is of the lake, which is only a stones throw away, and the beautiful mountain range behind. The lake has lots of cattail grass and small brush growing around the perimeter. Billy calls it a lake, but it is just a large pond. I see a group of mature ducks, possibly twenty of them, quacking toward the rear of the kitchen, so do the dogs. They love to hunt and would love to be let loose right now. “Hush! I said hush!”

      Terry has driven to the rear entry of the restaurant, which is at about one o’clock СКАЧАТЬ