If popular culture is to be believed, there is no such thing as a Thanksgiving meal uninterrupted by drama. It might be a tipsy and belligerent uncle, a cook's meltdown when the entire table skips her gluey mashed potatoes, or a cousin who decides that the lull between the clearing of the turkey carcass and the presentation of the pumpkin pie is the ideal time to announce that his roommate isn't, uh, just his roommate. TV and movies are rife with over-the-top T-Day debacles, but is that the case in real life?
Most of mine have gone smoothly, so the few incidents that occurred have burned onto my brain like marshmallows on the edge of a sweet potato casserole pan. A guest power-chugged cheap Champagne in the last 15 minutes of her stay, smashing a bottle on the street when we tried to hail a cab for her. A relative who will remain nameless phoned her parents, stone cold sober, and berated them for not making her feel loved enough as a kid. My Grandmother deemed me a "slut" for having at one time had a platonic male roommate.
I celebrate Thanksgiving with several friends now.
Silence. Then, from across the table, an aunt...
"WEEEE DIIIIIID NOT COOOOME FROOOOM MOOOONKEEEEEEYSSSS!"
The calming down took a tad, and once an bitingly insincere apology was issued by the brother, the blessings recommenced - this time, with a cousin, freshly released from drug rehab. "I'm (snort, eyeroll) thankful for my family."
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