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DOGS AND SNAKES by Tony Larson


Nick and I barely made the flight. He called me the night before, and I absolutely pounded into him the importance of leaving at 10am. "Dude, be here at ten. Seriously, we have to be there at least an hour early. It's an international flight. Hong Kong will not wait."

"all right."

I got out of bed at 8:30, plenty of time to pack and take inventory. I'm never late. If I am it's usually not my fault, or I'm just a couple of minutes tardy. At 9:30 I called Nick, just to make sure he realized the time parameters.

"We're leaving right now," he said.

"Later." I hung up. In a semi-anal attempt to promote anti-tardiness, I wrestled my back
pack from my bed and headed down the stairs to my quiet street to wait for Nick and his girlfriend, our driver. I thought to myself, if I stand out here I'll see them if they're lost, thus removing at least one negative factor.

Ten till.

Five till.

Five after.

Come on Nick.

"Oh, she's beeeeautiful." I was yanked from the tracks of my approaching panic by two neighbors
discussing a new pooch. "Her color is soooo unique." The dog was rose-colored.

"Thank you. Can you say thank you Rosa?" There are a lot of dog owners in my neighborhood and they all know each other. And each others dogs. The dogs know the other dogs. The cats are always nervous.

As I vicariously joined the dog appreciation session, I was distracted again, this time by the scratchy splatter of hose water being sprayed behind me, uncomfortably close to speckling my shoes and nearby backpack. It was the dick landlord who owned the across-the-street property. "SUP!" he spit at me from his red face.

"Nothin'." As I contemplated his red face, I suddenly became surrounded by all the pooches. "Hellos" and "sorrys" were exchanged between myself and the owners, both women.

"Hey!" Red face barked again, this time at the women, with no apparent particularity. "One of my tenants has a complaint. They don't like your dogs running up their private driveways."

"Oh Gaaawd... why? "

Just then one of the dogs ran up the driveway in question, squatted and coiled. The timing stank worse than the shit.

"Right there! Right there!" He got redder.

"See this plastic bag I'm holding?" one of the women replied. "I use this to pick up the shit. I never leave the shit there."

"Well, thank you, I appreciate that." A weak attempt at civility. "But the shit doesn't fall from the sky." His tone became more incensed.

"Well, we don't like you hosing this cul-de-sac and letting all the dead leaves wash into our driveways and piling up."

"Then tell Jay to clean his property once in a while." Jay was another landlord.

"It's not his leaves that are piling up!"

"Bullshit! That's his tree and it sheds on my property, and I know he refuses to hire a gardener."

"Oh my God, give me a break." Red face continued to hose and the two women continued to tell each other about problems they've encountered with this guy, just out of earshot but close enough for him to get it.

Where the fuck is Nick? I knew this was going to happen. It was 10:30. Our flight leaves at 11:50. Rad.

"Don't worry," red face started again, " I'll just wash this dog piss off the sidewalk. I got it."
This guy is a dick.

"You know what?" Rosa's owner quipped. "Fuck you!"

"I don't wanna fuck you. I already have a girlfriend." My mouth was open.

"Oh yeah, what's his name?" It was the other dog owner. They both laughed. So did I. It really is amazing the level of immaturity that so many adults maintain throughout their lives. I waited for the na-na-nana-na's and tongues to come out. I really hoped that the in-flight entertainment would be this good. That is if we ever make the... OH MY GOD WHERE IS NICK?

10:35. I ran up the stairs to my apartment, opened the door and sure enough the phone rang. Guess who? "Dude, I forgot the directions. What street are you on?"

"Are you serious?" I re-yelled the directions and scurried down the stairs again. The owners
had returned to their homes and Red Face was still at it, hosing and raking away. He looked at me and I smirked and walked to the end of my street. Why does this always happen to me? I remember talking to my fellow Art Dumpers about the problem I have with problems. Rob said it's a problem because I let it curse me. Andy and Mike just laughed. All valid reactions. Or maybe they were just fucking with me. That's a problem I have, too. Nick and his girlfriend pulled up and popped the hatch of the SUV. Nick got out.

"Sup dude. "

"Think we'll make it?"

"Hell yeah."

"You know it leaves at 11:50, right?" Blank stare.

"What? Eleven-fifty?"

"I told you and told you that. "

"Shit," he sighs.

At this point I took over. "all right, the fastest way to get there is the 101 to the 110 to the
105. It'll dump us right at the terminal."

"But what about Highland to..."

"No, " I snapped, " I drive this everyday." Curious stare from Nick's girlfriend. I see it in her rearview mirror. She's not stressed at all. Actually, either is Nick.

"Hey honey, does my hair look stupid all hella flat like this?"

"No, sweetie..."

Oh........My.........God. Little traffic. Enough for me to doubt the success of this blemished
mission. We get to the airport with me barely surviving ridiculous conversations based on questions like "Hey dude, is that Compton? Gnarly." and "Honey make sure you call me from the airport when you get there."

11:30. More traffic. My dad works for the airlines and I know how bad this is. Frantically I begin to tell Nick's girlfriend what to do, which lane to get in.

"Hey, you just relax back there!" she just snapped at me. I got hot, beads began to form. I'm older than her. I'm missing my flight. I'm older than her. She's going shopping or something after this. Finally, we lunge out of the SUV, grab and go. Ten minutes till take off. We luck out. The gate lady said run. We run and make it. Fuck you Nick. They'd better have beer on this flight.



©2001 Tony Larson