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

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      I turn around and notice that the door to my new residence seems pretty abused. The plastic window has slipped halfway down inside the core of the door. Most of the aluminum sheeting is loose and not connected to anything. I put the key in the door and feel it unlock. As soon as I open the door it falls on my foot, and pain shoots up my leg. I see that the top hinge is broken off and the bent hinge on the bottom holds the door from coming completely off. It’s as if the door has been slammed a million times and finally broke apart. Aggression on a door could only mean one thing; unhappy aggressive tenants. This is not good, and makes me feel uneasy about the bad vibes that float out like vapor as I lean the broken door against the outer wall.

      The inside is a completely different story. It stinks! I mean it really stinks! I step over several objects on the floor to get to the windows. I pull back the curtains to reveal a thick film of dirt and fly specks. Dead flies are collected between the screen and the windows. I open every available window and also the two sky lights, which crank open for air. The horrid aroma overpowers my mind and I don’t know where to begin so I go to the car to find my snacks and pull myself together. I eat a banana and drink some juice at the picnic table to refuel for the long day ahead of me. As I sit at the table, Bubba and Terry drive by with a load of full trash bags in the back of the cart. They skid to a stop at the back entry of the restaurant, dump the trash next to a huge pile of empty cardboard boxes, pop open another beer, and take off again. I guess it’s not their job to be the welcoming committee.

      I head back into the fifth wheel and plan my attack. Dishes are piled all over the sink area; most of them are still coated with old dried food. The small refrigerator is full of moldy food and the inside walls are coated with specks of mold. There are blankets, clothes, papers, and empty bags of fast food scattered everywhere. On top of all the debris there is a thick layer of road dust. I begin to open the cabinets and find more leftover food. An open bottle of ketchup has completely turned dark and hard inside. I look in all the cabinets now to confirm my belief that they are all packed with crap! I venture into the tiny cramped space of the toilet and unexpectedly feel the burn of tears brimming over my eyelids as I realize the source of the pungent odor. I feel distressed and disgusted all at once. Is it possible that the holding tank has not been emptied since whomever the hell, crazy-ass, slime bag, grub lived here? I wipe away the tears and try the water pump to the toilet and realize that I need to plug in the electricity, hook up the water, and light the water heater. The contents in the holding tank are probably as dried up as the bottle of ketchup. Okay, I need some trash bags, duct tape, bleach, rubber gloves, sponges, paper towels, and that blue holding tank chemical. It’s time for battle.

      I find all the items inside the store area of the restaurant at inflated prices. The trash in front has been emptied. Vi told me that Billy had said not to turn on the water to the inside just yet, because there’s a broken pipe somewhere. She said to use the water straight from the outside. There was a hose somewhere under the trailer. If I needed a bucket she had one. She also told Vi to tell me that Ray would be by later to check out where the water leak is before he fills up the propane tanks, and to be ready to go to work at 7:00AM, because we all had to pitch in for the busy day ahead with the barbeque in the evening. Vi said that Billy and Ray had gone shopping for the barbeque in Redding and would not be back until pretty late. Isn’t Redding a hundred miles or so away? I thought to myself.

      After plugging in the electricity, which seems to be in working order, I begin filling trash bags with everything inside the fifth wheel that is not bolted, glued, hammered down, or part of the trailer. There is not one single item in the stuffed drawers and cabinets that is worth a dime except a large kettle that I decide to keep for cleaning purposes. I don’t mess around taking my time on this current cleansing excavation. When I clean, I show no mercy. I pile the rancid trash bags by the bottom of the stairs. Mid-way through this task, I decide to look for the hose under the trailer. While under there I notice the thick, gray pleated plastic tubing coming out from the holding tank. I find the opening for sewage over by the electrical post and stuff the pleated hose into it. The hose makes a dry crackling noise. I probably need a new one of those too! I put the water hose into the toilet, turn on the water and begin to fill the tank. The water hose has several leaks along its length, so I quickly turn off the water, dry the hose off, and use the duct tape to seal up the many drips. After repairing the hose and filling the toilet tank with water, I add the thick blue chemical, probably more than recommended and continue filling up trash bags. I use the entire box of twenty heavy-duty trash bags; five of the trash bags contain ripped, dirty blankets and discolored pillows. The other fifteen contain clothes, towels, dishes, old food, and hard-core trash! Next, I retrieve my Coleman stove and fill the large kettle with water from the hose. I put the stove and kettle on the picnic table to heat for cleaning. I hear a lawn mower off in the distance and notice the park is getting full of RVs. People are wandering about the premises, fishing and walking their dogs. My dogs bark like crazy every time someone with a dog walks by. I need to get this done to the point that I can bring them inside the trailer.

      My loaded car has most of the practical items needed for living fairly comfortably—a small vacuum, a small microwave, an ice chest, a boom box with my CD’s and cassettes, a few dishes, silverware, tea kettle, drip filter for coffee, a couple of small pots and pans, bedding, toilet paper, and a small assortment of packaged and canned food. I have a habit of keeping my chaos fairly organized.

      By now my car has all four doors open and boxes and bags of my provisions are spread around. I get the toilet paper and vacuum and head back inside the trailer to take a quick, creepy, crawly-feeling pee in the toilet. I will drain the holding tank after it soaks for a few hours and hope that its contents have broken down enough to flush down into the sewer. While pulling up my pants, I hear an approaching diesel truck coming down the highway going extremely fast, shaking the trailer like an earthquake. At the same moment I hear pounding on the exterior wall of the trailer. In my panic to escape the confines of the tiny cubicle, I slip on a small area of water that had leaked from the duct taped hose and ram my hip on the door knob of the tiny bathroom. The pounding gets louder. I limp over to the door, which I have bungee-corded open and connected to the side of the trailer, rubbing my new bruise. It’s Ruby. She has a beer in her hand and has tears in her red eyes.

      “I’m sorry to bother you Denise, but I’m so upset! My dog, the one I told you about yesterday? Well, he got bit by a rattlesnake this morning and I just know he’s going to die! Billy’s gone and I need to take him to the vet, but I don’t have any money. I don’t mean to be a pain in the ass or anything, but could you lend me a twenty? I promise I’ll pay you back!” I don’t see a car or a dog and wonder how she got here and where the dog is. She continues talking. “I’ll bet this place is a mess! Last guy to live here was the last cook Billy hired over a year ago. He was a druggy, and ripped Billy off for hundreds of dollars. He’s even suing Billy and Ray over something that never happened.” Ruby’s nose scrunches up in disgust. “What stinks?” Ruby is no longer crying and I’m appalled to think that I will be sleeping in the bed of a “druggy.”

      “I think it’s the holding tank. I’m trying to clear that out. Listen Ruby, I’m pretty busy and don’t have much time. I’ll loan you the twenty, but I’ll need to get it back as soon as you can repay me. I’m kind of short on cash myself these days.”

      “Cool! Thanks Denise! I promise.” After the supplies at the store and this twenty, which I might not ever see again, I am now down to $110. Ruby walks away and heads toward the restaurant, tossing her empty beer can on the ground.

      Steam is rising from the pot on the Coleman stove. I get a couple of towels to carry the hot kettle with, go pick up the empty beer can, drop it into the trash bin ten feet away, and carry the heated water into the trailer. I put on the new rubber cleaning gloves and pour bleach into the hot water. I start a smaller pot of water to heat up in case I need more, and I can’t help but think that I will certainly need more. The water turns a mustard СКАЧАТЬ