Nobody Better, Better Than Nobody by Ian Frazier

Author:Ian Frazier [Frazier, Ian]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Essays, Literary Collections
ISBN: 9781466828773
Google: iW6l8SDuGjEC
Publisher: Macmillan
Published: 2003-10-01T21:17:53+00:00

What actually happened was I got hardly any sleep at my motel, because someone kept slamming a door right next to my room all night, and then I got up in the morning and took my shirt off the hanger and a large cockroach jumped out of the shirt pocket and landed on the floor with a strangled cockroach yell. I drove out to David and Poncé’s, and Poncé and I sat around and talked for a while, and then David said, “Let’s eat.” Poncé and I got in her Datsun 280 ZX, and David and Tom Carey, a partner in David’s plumbing business, whose sister Sue was Poncé’s college roommate and maid of honor, got in David’s half-ton Ford pickup. We drove to a nearby restaurant called El Jarro, owned by Arthur Cerna, whose wife’s uncle was married to Poncé’s grandfather’s sister and whose cousin was Poncé’s mother’s doctor. It was happy hour at El Jarro, where you got two drinks for every one you ordered, so the table was quickly covered with margarita glasses. Tom Carey said that sometimes when Poncé and David got into arguments he, Tom, would referee, and would jump in and yell, “Time out!” He asked me where I was staying and I said the Miramar and he’d never heard of it. Poncé said that she had had a dream the night before that she made David ten color-coordinated bibs with little clips on them like the clips on a dentist’s bib, and she was so sure the dream was real that when she woke up she went looking for the bibs. I ordered the cabrito, which is goat, and a Carta Blanca beer, and they brought me two Carta Blanca beers. Poncé said, “Did you know that the Chinese have different sweat glands than we do?”

After lunch, Poncé picked up the check, and we went into the parking lot, which was very bright, and got in the car, whose seats were hot, and we drove back to Poncé and David’s. Tom Carey got in his car and went somewhere, and I got in my van, and Poncé got in David’s truck. I followed them into San Antonio on the freeway—everybody passed me because I was going only sixty—and at a stoplight David leaned over and lifted Poncé’s sunglasses and looked at her. We went to a restaurant-bar named Yvan, where it was also happy hour. Poncé said, “Did you see they’ve invented a pill that you take and it tans you? Turns you kind of orange. Only problem is, it turns your palms orange, too.” The bar filled with people, and Tom Carey showed up again. Poncé said, “Did you see that they’ve invented a flyswatter that looks like a little gun and the swatter shoots out and comes back?” Then the owner of the bar came over and talked to us. Tom Carey went somewhere again. Poncé said, “Do you really believe the Egyptians built the pyramids with wooden rollers?” Some guy with a beard came up to Poncé and asked her where she worked, and she said, “I’m a writer.

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