In this particular instance, the fault was mine. I should have NEVER trusted the woman! Forgive me for thinking that, when one jumps in as a passenger to accompany a trusted family member to a solemn occasion, that family member would know where the hell they were going. My bad.
There were no red flags.
Well...there was a flag guy who tried his darnedest to park us in an efficient, organized fashion. Silly man. We had arrived at the funeral home. Spoiler alert. Let me amend that: We had arrived at a funeral home. It's not like we'd never done this before. We walked in...dignified. Solemn. Sincere. We signed the little book. We carefully approached the bereaved. Aunt Sally extended her condolences, explaining that she was the beloved aunt of so & so. I heroically refrained from rolling my eyes. The bereaved, obviously overwrought and understandably confused, asked, "Who?" Aunt Sally shot me a look so I sailed in to clarify. Grasping our new acquaintance's hand comfortingly, I too, offered my sympathies, explaining my own questionable link to the family. He leaned in and repeated, "Who?" I took a step back and glanced around the room, realizing that there was not a single familiar face in there. A-W-K-W-A-R-D...awkward (My friend Sarah has little tune that accompanies the singing of this little ditty and it was rolling through my brain as I sought to graciously extricate myself from this uncomfortable situation).
The funeral director valiantly took me by the elbow and guided us discreetly off to the side. I assume someone else was alerting the authorities that two lunatics were crashing funerals. "Who were you hoping to visit?" he asked. Oh no. This was only going to get worse. Flummoxed, I shrugged my shoulders in what I hoped was an adorable fashion. "I'm not sure," I admitted. My aunt punted what she thought the last name was while I confidently said that the first name began with an "h." I think. Desperate to get us out of the building, he scanned the goings-on listed on his competitor's schedules. Trying to lighten the mood, I told him that we were starting a new trend. "Some people bar hop," I smiled, "We funeral hop." He finally succeeded in sending us, smothering our giggles, out the door.
Take II.
This time, we entered the building with a great deal more caution. We were determined not to leave a paper trail until we were certain that we were at the right place. Ah. Familiar faces! We again extended our condolences, this time, to people who didn't stare at us like we'd sprouted additional heads, wings, and tails. Aunt Sally and I took nothing for granted this time...inching our way along trying to avoid catastrophe, disruption, and embarrassment. Whew! We made it!
Returning to the parking lot, victorious, we complimented ourselves on this successful outing. I waited patiently on the opposite side of my aunt's vehicle for her to unlock it. After a long pause, I heard her begin to stomp away in disgust. "Wrong vehicle," she shouted at me. I blame myself, naturally.
Even with our differences in height, my Aunt Sally TOWERS over me when it comes to getting into trouble!
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