Nappy Martinis, Extra Dry

Tanvir Naomi Bush Writing 2 Comments

There was a faint pong of dirty nappies and gin in the airport lounge where I waited for my flight back from New York. I would have moved but my hangover was too great and the slightest movement makes me more nauseous.

I had taken the bus from Toronto to Buffalo last Thursday. At the US border I had been shown, with excessive use of the word ‘ma’am’, to a holding pen full of other dodgy foreigners and left to watch customs men and women politely and yet offensively (how do they do it) maul people for two hours.

New York and I was immediately ensconced in the organised chaos of my cousin S’s, apartment. You may remember them from the Halloween posts last year when I visited just after Teelo had been killed and spent four days holding the new baby and drinking martinis. The new baby is now a six month Zen Roshi master with long eyelashes and large slate grey eyes. B, the three year old, is growing quickly and slightly less fazed by his cousin with ‘the broken eyes’. He loves his little sister and is mostly lovely to her but apparently has a tendency to chuck her in the nappy bin when he needs a little more attention.

On Friday, afte a quick visit to a friend at Tibet House I found my cuz at work. Her parents arrived at midday and we ate and drank merrily juggling babies, bath times, and more martinis. S’s mum has just received the Lindburgh award as S’s dad did back in 1985 which is the first time it has been awarded twice to the same family. Considering the size of the combined brainpower you would be amazed at the level of humour. Low and goon-like which is exactly right both for the three year old and me.

On Saturday I arrived feeling like death warmed up and was mean and grumpy even after spending time with the Zen master. This was hardly fair considering I was not the one who had been up at 4:30am breastfeeding but I growled and griped anyway. Fed up with my wimpyness my dear cuz suggested a drink. I truly believed that there was no possible way I could get another Bombay Sapphire martini extra dry into my bloodstream…..apparently I was wrong. (My cousin is truly artful in these matters.)

And then it was Sunday and there I was in the smelly airport lounge. At last the flight was called and we moved into line and began to shuffle on. ‘Thank goodness!,’ I thought…and then ‘hang on’.. the smell was still all around and I was suddenly horribly aware that the smell of nappies and gin was wafting coquettishly ….from me.

Comments 2

  1. Hey Tanvir! Thanks for your comment! am new on this blogger thing and feeling reeeeeallly stooooopid (unlike your clearly wildly intelligent family) took me at least half an hour to work out that you wrote to me from suzie’s site! hilarious! and you know, we probably did cross paths in zambia…was in The Valley for years…( too many maybe? nah!) and know zoe and your dad. and of course tammy miranda pam oh it could go on forever..yes. I ADORE your site…keep at it. lots lots of love and salaams janelle X

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