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

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СКАЧАТЬ It’s coated everything! I wipe like a mad woman. No nook or cranny escapes my feverish cleaning— inside cabinets, outside cabinets, walls, counters, and bathroom. There are now several flies that have entered uninvited. I hear the dogs barking and need to stop cleaning to bring them in and feed them. First, I bring in the second pot of water, empty the first, and refill it to heat up again. I get the dogs and shut the screen door that is attached to the broken front door. To my amazement it works just fine. It even snaps shut. I hope this will keep those darn flies out now.

      Bonita and Bandito are very happy to have joined me. They explore the small confined area they are in. Bandito runs and jumps up the two steps that go to the double bed in the far rear of the trailer and acts like he’s ready to play. Bonita looks concerned and apprehensive. I feed them, and then go to the car to find my Bug Zapper; a tennis racket-shaped tool that has a battery operated electrical current to zap flies and mosquitoes. I zap until I feel I have conquered the majority of them.

      After another hour of cleaning with bleach, I feel satisfied that I will be living in a slightly more sterile environment. I know I have only touched the surface of all the details that need to be done to get the trailer up to my standards, but I have all summer, so I begin carting in all my belongings. I have no idea what time it is, so I check the clock in my car and see it is 4:00PM. I go back inside and set my travel alarm, so I can at least know the time.

      The sun is approaching the edge of the mountain range. There is a slight breeze coming up, and the drying tent has blown onto the ground. I roll up the dry tent and put it in the trunk of the car and bring in the dry blankets and down comforter. I lay the comforter on the bed first to separate me from the old, well-used, discolored surface of the “druggy” mattress, and then place the fitted sheet over the comforter. I make a mental note to purchase some Lysol. After that, I make my way back outside to find the valve to empty the holding tank. It was easy to find over on the highway side of the trailer where a large red arrow was pointing down to it reading: ‘To empty holding tank turn valve to the left.’ As I do this, I hear and see the rumbling, heavy, discolored water gushing through the fragile pleated hose on its way to the sewer. When I no longer hear water in the hose, I shut the valve off. I go get the water hose and refill the tank through the toilet and add more blue chemical. Now that the trailer seems to smell better, I make a tuna sandwich and drink a small glass of wine. I finish eating and go outside to drag all the plastic trash bags over to the pile that Bubba and Terry have going.

      “Okay kids! We’re going for a walk!” I announce to Bonita and Bandito upon my return. They are out of their minds with excitement.

      I decide to walk the dirt drive outside the fifth wheel that leads away from the main building parallel to the highway and wind around the entire oval-shaped park. I had noticed earlier that the small row of trailers next to the highway, like mine, seem more permanent, while the temporary RVs are on the one end and the other side of the lake. The dogs are very happy with their sixteen feet of mobile freedom they are allowed with the leashes.

      The sun has just dipped behind the mountains highest peak. There is still plenty of daylight left. It didn’t get too hot today. Thank heavens for that.

      About six spaces from my trailer, I approach a trailer that has the golf cart parked in front. So this is where our charming couple live! The area has the look of a full-time tenant. I see the lawn mower, a few attempts with potted flowers, an older, red, beat up Jeep, a huge fire pit with a huge pile of logs next to it, and various bent up cardboard boxes filled with empty beer cans.

      Bonita and Bandito see the tiny kittens darting from under the trailer at the same time that I do. They shoot out like bullets from the extending leashes, barking like idiots, springing to a halt and flipping their little bodies around when the line runs out. I have learned through time to keep a firm grip on the handles. They want, need, and desire to rip the heads off the cute little kitties. I hang on tight and slowly reel them in.

      With my presence made known, I feel embarrassed. I get a chill down my spine when I realize that Bubba and Terry are probably observing me from somewhere inside their trailer. “Bad dogs! You stop that! Do you hear me? That’s not nice!” As we pass the golf cart parked on the side of the road, I see the ice chest tilted in a sea of empty beer cans in the cargo space of the cart.

      We continue walking around the park. About five spaces down from Bubba’s, I see a large cement drainpipe extending into the lake. Water is flowing at a steady stream from its opening. I presume that the flowing water is the continuous source and supply of the lake. A group of mud hens honk and float near the rippling water. Bits of trash float near the waters’ edge.

      As I round the farthest curve at the far end of the park, I see the forest of pine trees that borders the park. There is a dirt road that curves off the main circular drive and disappears into the forest. Good road for a private walk, I think to myself. On closer inspection of the pine trees, I can see fragments of color beyond the tree line, like large tractors, or equipment of some sort. They are barely noticeable, but it’s evident that there’s a back area in there for storage of some kind.

      I hear the golf cart start up and come my way around the park. Are Bubba and Terry after me for scaring the kittens? Instead, they zoom past me laughing loudly about something, each holding a beer, leaving in their wake, thick, floating dust. How could anyone drink that much beer all day long and still function? I don’t get it! I see them disappear down yet another side dirt road further down, possibly another entry into the forest storage area.

      At about mid-way on my walk, I hear the grinding of a truck trying to get started. The sound is coming from deep within the cover of the pine trees; back there, in the forest. What in the hell is back there? I will explore this soon.

      Guests are enjoying their spaces, grilling up hot dogs and hamburgers, swatting flies, and most of them have satellite dishes set up or in the process of getting set up. So I guess the deal is to eat and watch TV in the presence of nature. I do not see many of them walking around. “Ouch!” I feel the sting of a mosquito bite on my ankle. “Gosh darn it anyway!” I hurry up our walk so I can go cover my legs and feet. Mosquitoes love this time of the evening. I am only wearing my flip-flops, a short-sleeved t-shirt, and capri pants. I look at the lake and see the thin layer of mosquitoes floating above and around the water’s surface. We pass the group of ducks resting beneath the cattail grass. I am very happy that the dogs did not notice them.

      As I round the front of the main building, bypassing the straight path to my trailer which is behind the main building, I hear the rumbling engine of a large and really old looking dump truck. It looks beat to shit! It shakes and rattles its way to the rear of the restaurant. There is a pile of trash bags about halfway up the teetering side wood panels. Oh, I get it. That’s where they put all the trash. Then what? Whatever, I’m sure I will find out later. Bubba is behind the wheel and Terry is following him in the golf cart. They disappear out of view behind the restaurant.

      The front parking lot is full of restaurant customers. The majority of the cars being Jeeps, well-used trucks, a couple of all-terrain scooters, and cars with license plates from many different states. Two logging trucks, empty of driver and logs, are parked with engines running on the other side of the highway. Three RVs are in line by the edge of the lot and some kids are climbing the small fence that borders the park. Someone is obviously registering for a space inside while the family waits. Billy must have quite a crew working for her! I suddenly feel very insecure and apprehensive about my new job as cook. This must be the only place to eat for miles!

      I walk the final curve toward my trailer and climb the inconvenient, awkward stairs. Once inside I unleash the dogs and peek out the window next to the dining table. I see Bubba standing with his back to me, looking at the pile of trash bags. He is standing in front of my pile of additional trash bags. His heavy stumps of legs are spread apart and his fists are planted on his hips. He lifts his baseball cap with one hand and scratches СКАЧАТЬ