The Wedding Continued

Babcia asked the Lesbian Justice of the Peace, "What are you doing in a Polish Catholic Church if you are Lebanese?  You should be in the Lebanese Catholic Church across the street."

Babcia had completely lost her mind.  There never was a Lebanese Catholic Church in their Polish community.  The only outsider was the one and only non-practicing German Lutheran, but she was married to a Polish Catholic.  That made her Polish Catholic through marriage.  Everyone talked to her like she was Polish.  She only knew one word in Polish, "Tak."  Can you image only knowing how to say the word "yes" in a different language?   I think that is how they ending up getting married.  He asked her to sleep with him and she had no idea what he was saying and yes was the answer.  Nine months later they are married because that is what they did back and then they started to mass produce.  After awhile, she learned what he was saying.  That is when she learned her second word.  "Nie", or as we say in English...NO!  But I digress!

Babcia was thirsty.  After all it had been forty-five minutes since her last beer.  The longest she had gone without having a beer in her entire adult life.  She started to become cranky.  The old Polish woman, Babcia, demanded the lesbian give her beer back to her.  She was sure that the Lebanese people were stealing all the Polish Beer because, of course, Lebanese people do not make as high quality beer as the Poles.  Fumes started coming out of grandma's nostrils.  "Where is my beer, Dammit? I want my Polish beer!"

As we stood on the boardwalk by the sandy Mexican beach, we attempted to calm down Babcia by telling her that we were getting her a beer.  My brother, the middle child, brought her a cerveza.  She took one drink and spit it into the lesbian's face.  "This ain't Polish beer!  The Lebanese man is trying to kill me.  There is something green in this beer.  It looks like a lime.  I bet it has rat poison in it.  You can't trust those Lebanese!"

With a straight face I said, "Lesbian...Lesbian...Lesbian, Babcia."

"Well, if that is what those Lebanese people want to be called now then fine.  I can call them Lesbians."  She was livid. "The Lebanese or Lesbian is attempting to kill.  Whatever, they want to be called know.  I know the truth.  I know who they really are.  Can't fool me!  Damn Lebanese, I mean Lesbians."  Babcia threw the glass bottle of cerveza at the Lesbian Justice of the Peace, who was getting to be not so peaceful. Babcia continued ranting on, "Burn in hell! And take your cheap ass beer with you.  Trying to poison me.  If I die, I'll come back and haunt you and all your Lesbian Lebanese friends till the guys in the white coats come and get you.  Fucking Lebanese Lesbians!"

My husband to be became very quickly my ex-husband to be.  And the Lesbian not Lebanese Justice of the Peace informed me that I was still going to have to pay her fee and then some for Babcia's little explosiveness and abuse.  My eldest brother went to the rental car and got Babcia a Polish beer to calm her nerves.  Babcia was very happy and calm as she drank that Polish Beer.   She only had three Polish beers left and we were not sure if we would make it back to Wisconsin without further incidents. It would prove to be a long trip home.