"My mother went to EPCOT and got drunk," I said.
"that’s funny," he said. "We never even thought of that."
"No," I said. "Remember? I had a glass of wine Italy. Or was it France? Somewhere. I bought a glass of wine and I remember that I had it until we got to Mexico."
"It’s funny," he said, "to hear you speak so glibly of globetrotting."
"Yes," I said. "I started drinking at Montmartres, beneath the Eiffel Tower and then I rounded a corner and look, there was the Coliseum, and look, there was the David."
"And then you tripped across a bed of koi and up onto the Mexican peninsula."
"Yes, I saw a Dragon parade and almost bought a Samurai sword and then I was in Aztec territory."
This is, of course, exactly how my mother described her visit to EPCOT, sans children: "What was first, Canada? We had a drink there. And then England, and then on to France, a drink everywhere."
Except, of course, they boycotted Germany. "We thought about it, but no," my mother said.
We like to think there’s a yearly ritual during which Jewish ladies go to the Germany in EPCOT center and they pour out half a glass of Chardonnay on the ground as an act of forgiveness. "We forgive you, Germany!" they cry, as they sadly surrender half a glass of Chardonnay, secure in their menschness, because they are forgiving Germany. Just like we take ten drops out of our own wine glasses as we recite the 10 plagues, or just like pouring half a 40oz (that would be 20 ounces) on the ground.
But wouldn't that make a nice short story?
In other news, apologies for my non-posts. I have the worstest headache EVER and it won't go away.