THE SEARCH FOR MR. ADEQUATE
Part XXXVI
By Susan Silver

On a happier note, I was regaling you all with the report of my trip to California. I was leaving Monterey which was great and heading to Los Angeles.

As I wait for the plane with a couple of the other participants at the Renaissance Weekend, an overweight and over friendly guy accosts us.

“Say, where’ ya headed?” he asks.

The other two women, make the mistake of answering him which dooms us to a twenty minute monologue. He insists on giving us the best restaurants in Los Angeles, though two of us have lived there and the third is not stopping there. He refuses to accept the places we are intending to go, and makes up an itinerary that will be “much better for us.” He reports in excruciating detail about his golf tournament and others he has been to in the past. He is about to launch into a discussion of his college education when, thankfully, the boarding is announced.

I rush to get away and the other two are stuck with him all the way out to the tarmac and onto the plane. We all pray not to be sitting next to “Cliff Claven” as one of them dubbed him ... the know-it-all mailman on “Cheers.” Fortunately, none of us pulls him for a seatmate. The poor captive woman from Australia, who did, is bouncing off walls when we land and we have to hold her up so she can navigate to baggage. He had a laptop on the plane and forced her to view photos of his last two vacations.

My good friend of more than thirty years, otherwise referred to as the Drill Sergeant (Column 12) has insisted on picking me up at the airport, which I believe is above and beyond the call of duty for friends. In other words, I would never do it ... ( though you are allowed to call me at all hours of the day or night if you need to talk and I will accompany you to all doctor’s appointments and hospital occurrences.)

As you may recall, DS is the world’s most organized human and a stickler for neatness. Nothing, and I mean nothing is out of place at her house which I dub a “model home with photos.” If there is a crumb left on a cabinet or a remnant of a ring from a glass on any surface ... she notices. I am constantly retracing my steps with a paper towel. The newspaper is read and refolded and replaced into perfect alignment, for the next person. She collects coupons, as others of us do, but hers are organized by product with different color rubber bands holding them. I won’t go on...you get the picture.

Therefore I always look forward to her hospitality as a mixed blessing. I am happy to be there, but scared shitless! And, inevitably I break something. Once it was the toilet, once the shower faucet, and this time ... though I quickly fixed it, the little knob off the flusher came off and I was able to put it back on without her knowing. She reads the column, so will now know. Sorry.

She goes to the gym before work, comes back home, showers and puts on her outfit which has been LAID OUT ON THE BED THE NIGHT BEFORE! She makes her bed everyday whether anyone else is in the house or not. I do not. She closes the door to my room or she will be ill if she looks in. But she still lets me come every year ... now that’s a good friend!

I was thrilled to see that she had finally stopped smoking! After years of all of us who love her trying to get her to stop, I was amazed that she had. And as to the reason ... well, her brother needed a kidney and she was going to be tested to donate one. And you have to not smoke for sixty days before the test. Wow! I told her I was impressed and thought it was fabulous. She said it was nothing ... of course she’d do that for her brother, or sister. Or even a friend. What?

“Yes,” she said. “I’d do it for you! Wouldn’t you do it for me?”

No! I don’t think so. No!!! Let’s get this straight ... I’d do it for my parents, or my ex when we were married, and of course for Nate or Ben, my little precious boys. But no ... I don’t think I’d do it for a friend and now I feel really crappy. I brought her a trivet with her name on it for a housegift and she would give me her kidney!!

Although, she explained that if you do donate an organ and you need one someday, you automatically move up on the list to receive one. I still don’t think I’d do it. And so now not only do I feel like a slob and a lousy houseguest ... I am a sham as a friend. Thanks a lot.

I am only in Los Angeles for three days so have a lot to do and run around seeing my friends. I always rent a convertible and love to put the top down and drive to the beach. The 17 mile drive to Carmel may be renown, but there is nothing like the ride down Sunset Blvd. to Pacific Coast Highway and on to Malibu. It is the most relaxing, wonderful winding therapy for me as I sway into a comforting rhythm. Although it may make me a little weird as I hear myself repeating ... outloud, to myself ... “I’m an excellent driver. Excellent.” A little scarily reminiscent of the Dustin Hoffman character in Rainman. But no, I never watched Judge Wapner. Whew!

I spent some time with Deb and as you know, she is totally immersed in things mystical. Like having four or five psychics on retainer and does nothing without their input. The fact that almost nothing they’ve told her comes true or they could tell her different answers to the same questions has not made a difference. She still believes.

Therefore, when she put her house up for sale, it is only for three months! One of them gave her dates she had to abide by. That’s our Deb. I love her, but more than her moon is “void.”

And once we were face to face, she admitted to me that she has still been seeing Mr. Magic, (probably gay ship performer who has been jerking her around for over a year now with mixed messages.) (Column 5.)

Finally I told her that she is has got to stop seeing him as he is sapping her vital juices which, granted, he had reawakened and pointed out to her the many signs he has of total inability to maintain a real relationship. And she responded the following, from which I have still not recovered.

“Well, it’s probably from the accident?”

“What accident?” said I.

“The car accident which gave him permanent brain damage,” said she.

“The what? Hello? Excuse me. You never mentioned that before!”

“Oh yes, he had an accident and it did damage to the part of his brain which allows him to bond with people.”

Okay ... well of course. Now I get it. It’s like my soap operas. (Yes I do watch them. Yes I am embarrassed.) There is a character on General Hospital who had a brain injury and can’t fall in love or feel human emotions. Are you telling me that Mr. Magic is like Jason? Well, no wonder. And is there anything else you neglected to tell me like he is a conjoined twin? The other being a woman? And they double date? And she has a boyfriend ... I’ve seen that on TV too. I watch a lot of TV. These two conjoined twins are girls and one carries the other around on a chair and she is trying to be a country and western singer. Or wait a minute ... there was another program where a woman had a fifty pound tumor removed from her that she had been carrying around for a year and no seemed to think it was a problem? Is there anything else you want to tell me about him?

Deb agreed to stop seeing him as she is going on another cruise next month and one of the psychics told her she will meet someone on this boat too. With the track record I can only wait with baited breath to hear about his horns and tail ... which are not that visible under his cape.

Drill Sergeant/Kidney Donor and I went to a memorial for Pat McCormick. He was the very funny legendary comic and writer for the Tonight Show. A big guy with a huge talent, he was loved by many in show biz and had a recently passed away after a long and debilitating illness.

My friend, Jack Riley ... (Mr. Carlin on Bob Newhart ... Column 35 ) was the clever emcee and a lot of famous and funny comics, many oldtimers, were on the program. Buck Henry, George Carlin, Shelley Berman to name a few. It was great to see old friends from Rowan & Martin’s Laugh-In, on which I did the casting. Joanne Worley, Gary Owens, Henry Gibson among them.

Most of the humor was too dirty for me to reprint ... but boy was it good to laugh. I think we all need that now. One of the few lines I can report was a classic of Pat’s. One night he and a buddy were driving past a Braille Institute for the Blind and it was totally dark. He said “oh look, they’re working late.”

He had a propensity for dropping his pants at most inopportune moments and loved dressing as a Priest and making naughty remarks. For his son’s Christening, he put the baby on a tray with an apple in his mouth. The baby...now a hulking grown man didn’t seem worse the wear for it. Pat would lift up short people like Paul Williams and say:

“I’d like to thank the Academy.” He will be missed.

I had a drink with another longtime friend who had been married briefly, then came out as a lesbian. She is now dating men again and asked me for dating advice on the Internet. I am the wrong person to ask, aren’t I? Just do a drink and don’t get stuck for dinner was my only advice. And good luck.

So I guess being a gay woman isn’t any easier than a straight woman. DS/KD isn’t dating at all, by choice, though her sister has had about six relationships from the net. Her partner is dating a guy, fifteen years younger without any visible means of support. Another friend of mine has a married boyfriend she sees occasionally. I think LA is worse for dating than New York!

But my visit in LA was great this time ... usually I complain about the superficiality, but boy I love the sun. And being with some of my closest friends is always wonderful. Next I go to visit a new friend, a Dear Reader in Santa Barbara ... so, see you next week.

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