The Birth of the Dewtini!
I must be insane.
Why else would anyone on Earth follow the lead of Edmund Callipeaux?
Why would anyone ever find herself saying aloud, 'Hey Eddie, that’s a great idea!’
Hopefully, anyone in their right mind would know instinctually that any idea, or suggestion, that has been floated by Edmund Callipeaux is likely to be based on a twisted logic that makes sense to no one.
Heck, referring to an online dictionary for the word, specious (as in Specious Reasoning, the title of this blog), I find it to mean: deceptively attractive.
Therefore, considering Lady PodTron’s initial take on Edmund as elfish (deceptive) and my observation that he looks like Johnny Depp (attractive), I can only say that his sense of reasoning beguiles me to no end.
As I write these words, I am reminded of one of the early entries to this blog. Within the text of part 2 [of the Accounts of the Life of Edmund Callipeaux] Kidpowertool tells the tale of Eddie’s purchase of 96 hotdogs for the grand price of 99¢ - - just over a penny per gruesome dog….
Talk about deceptively attractive…yikes!
In the story, Kidpowertool writes about how Eddie had found these cellophane-packaged bricks of 48 wieners at a Florida grocery store for the sale price of 99¢ - - by one, get one free. I immediately knew that there would be no stopping Eddie from getting 2 bricks of these dogs, but I put my foot down on his doubling of his investment.
Kidpowertool writes:
Ed had seen his menu laid out for him for the next few months at the price of pennies and his wife had seen otherwise. (This is why, to this day, if Ed is perceived to have the most reasonable plan of action amongst all the people present in a group, I know that there’s something wrong and we need to keep brainstorming.)
Kidpowertool’s parenthetical aside illustrates my point - - if Eddie’s reasoning seems to be the most reasonable, then there is SOMETHING wrong with the whole scenario - - and hence the title of this blog…. Specious Reasoning.
So, I must be insane.
A normal person would see Edmund’s logic for what it is, abnormal.
Take, for example, our honeymoon in Chicago. Edmund and I have both loved the city of Chicago for a long time. And so we decided that The Windy City would be the perfect destination for our honeymoon (and it was - - only some crazy stuff happened).
We booked a hotel and decided to take the AMTAK from St. Paul to Chicago’s Union Station. The train ride was long and scenic; about 10 hours across Wisconsin and down into Illinois. It was winter and everything was covered in snow and beautiful-looking. I remember that we ate in the dining room car of the train, and due to the compacted space, we had to share a table with a mother and her teenage daughter. They quizzed us about our lives and got overly excited that we were on our honeymoon.
Arriving at Chicago’s Union Station, we decided to walk to the hotel rather than to hail a cab. Actually, we thought it was a relatively short distance to the hotel, and so we didn’t consider catching a cab or a bus ride. Being in a big city like Chicago is fun and exciting, and for a while, we enjoyed the walk. However, shortly after embarking on this journey, it started to get dark, cold, and snowy. And as we walked through the mounting blizzard, we eventually lost the sidewalk somewhere near Lincoln Park on Clark Street. Somewhere about a half-mile from the hotel, we looked at each other, and as the snow blew around us in the darkness, we were blinded by the on-coming headlights of cars.
I remember thinking, “It looked like such a short distance on the map!”
I think that I also remember a single tear running down Edmund’s check.
“Toughen up, Edmund!” I said against the darkness, as well as the blowing wind, and the cold.
We maintained our pace through the snow and the cold, eventually arriving at the hotel. As the building came into view, it was a towering high rise silhouetted by blue- and red-flashing lights. And as we continued to walk, we noticed that the lights were emanating from several squad cars and ambulances that were parked outside the hotel entrance. I’d say the ratio was about 1:3 for ambulances to cop cars...all lights flashing, lighting up the night like the 4th of July.
Crossing the street, we walked between two squad cars, across the sidewalk, past a bunch of people, through the building’s front doors, and into the hotel lobby.
At which point Edmund and I said, “Oh.”
For within the lobby stood a crowd of people. (Or perhaps it was a party of people.) It was a mass of folks all talking and filling the lobby in front of the check-in counter. We weren’t sure who was there for the cop cars and whom for the ambulances. As we had just arrived, we stood in the lobby, assuming that the mass of people formed some sort of line leading to the check-in counter. However, after several minutes Eddie said, “I don’t think any of these people are standing in line.”
I looked around.
And I realized that it was a party!
It was not a line of folks waiting to talk to the hotel manager, it was a crush of people standing around, having a good old time; having a party! And they took no notice of us as we pushed our way to the front counter, and positioned ourselves in front of a clerk.
“May I help you,” the clerk behind the counter said.
He then checked us into the hotel and gave us keys to our room. As we were going over the details with the man, Edmund inquired as to all the people filling the lobby to the gills, and also to the cop cars and ambulances out front.
“Oh, that’s nothing to be concerned with; we’re currently experiencing an overflow of guests that have been displaced from the Chicago Housing Authority,” said the clerk.
“What do you mean,” replied Edmund.
“Well, sir, the snowstorm and cold temperatures that we’ve been experiencing in Chicago over the past 24-hours have forced people from their public housing and our hotel has been commandeered by the city to make accommodations,” said the man behind the desk.
“What do you mean,” replied Edmund.
With a calm look on his face, the man continued to explain, “This past summer, the City began to relocate the tenants of its various high-rise housing-projects. Throughout the fall, and into the winter, there have been many tenants who have refused to leave their apartments. However, as the City has cut off all power and heat to the premises, the tenants have now been forced to abandon their homes due to the on-going cold temperatures and weather.”
“My God!” replied Edmund.
“Your room number is 735, Sir.”
Making our way through the throng of people, we found the elevator, and took it to the 7th floor. Finding room 735, we turned the key and walked in with our bags. Immediately, I was struck with how small the room was. Throwing our bags onto the bed, Edmund said, “This will work just fine.” However, plopping himself down alongside our bags, the bed-frame gave out, and the mattress slumped down on one side.
Standing up, Edmund crouched down on his knees and looked under the bed. He reached his hand toward one of the posts holding up the foot of the bed and said, “This is broken. Someone just jimmied it to hold the bed up.”
The slight headache that began during our tumultuous walk from Union Station spiked as he stood up and threw back the sheets and covers from the bed. Eddie said, “Well…the bed is broken, and the sheets are filthy.”
Looking at the sheets, I could only imagine that that the Charlie Brown character, Pigpen had slept in our bed the night before. The sheets were covered with dirt and grime!
“Maybe some coalminer stayed here last night after a hard day in the Chicago coalmines,” replied Eddie as we took in the bed situation.
"Are those footprints?" I said as I pointed at a dozen or so size 10 shoe-prints on the white cloth.
Luckily, Edmund called the front desk and they moved us to another room. Coincidentally or not, the new room was directly above the original room…and it was exactly the same shape and size (however, it had a clean bed). And by shape and size, I mean to say that it was about 7 by 7 feet - - just a little bit bigger than a double bed, and it wasn’t square either - - it had 6 walls. Who knows who designed this crazy place?
“Well, the new room looks good,” said Eddie. “Room #835 - -all prime numbers…that’s a good sign.”
At any rate, the room was fine and we settled into the space with our bags. Turning on the TV, Eddie asked me if I’d like to have a refreshing beverage.
“Refreshing beverage? What do you mean by that, Edmund?” I asked.
“You just wait,” replied Edmund. And with that, he ran out the door and down the hall.
What I did know was that Edmund had brought a small bottle of Bombay Sapphire Gin with us on the train from St. Paul. What I did not know was that he was on his way to the hotel vending machine to purchase a can of Mountain Dew, as well as a can of Sunny Delight. Returning to the room, he said, “Man, there’s a lot of kids running around out there.”
Laying out his mixers and his gin on the bedside table, he said, “I think this is going to work just fine!”
I said, “Edmund, what are you doing there?”
“Don’t you worry, my beautiful wife,” replied Edmund.
At which point I watched him fill a tall glass with:
1/3 Bombay Sapphire Gin
1/3 Mountain Dew
1/3 Sunny Delight
“I think this is going to be just fine,” he repeated.
He then added a few ice cubes to the glass and handed the concoction to me. I eyed the greenish-orangish liquid with suspicion as he proceeded to mix up another for himself. “They didn’t have much else to choose from at the vending machine. So I had to improvise…I think that you’ll find this beverage to be deceptively attractive….
"I call it a Dewtini,” exclaimed Edmund.
“Do you expect me to drink this?” I replied.
“Cheers,” said Edmund as he extended his glass toward mine. “We’re married and we’re on our honeymoon!”
“Cheers,” I confirmed as I tilted the glass to my mouth.
Minutes later, my headache was replaced by a general blindness due to Eddie’s Dewtini mixture. He was already on his second as a void began to close in around me. “Edmund, what is wrong with you?” I whispered as I grasped at the air in a vain attempt to try to find his neck in order to strangle him.
Dewtini….I must be insane. As darkness washed over me, I heard Edmund’s distant voice say, “It’s the best of gin, Mountain Dew, and Sunny D…what more could you want, baby?”
The following morning, I was awakened to the noisy laughter of children. I looked up at the ceiling and then around the room. The makings for Eddie’s Dewtinis were at the bedside table. The sun was out and its light was pouring in through the window. Beautiful, I thought, and then I saw Edmund’s Dewtini mixers again and I thought about how I had lost my vision, and also how I had wanted to strangle him the night before. But then I thought about his elflike appearance, and for some reason, my anger began to dissipate.
Then there was bump at the door and Edmund woke up. Opening the door, we ascertained that all the kids staying at the hotel were using the hallways as their playground. “This place is crazy,” said Edmund, “It’s 7:30 a.m. and this place is already rocking at full speed. I wonder how many cop cars and ambulances will be out there tonight? We should get out of here, and besides, they’re out of Sunny Delight in the vending machine.”
I said, “This place is madness.”
To which Eddie replied, “But our love for each other will endure throughout the ages.”
“Yes, Edmund, that is true…God help me, but that is most assuredly true.” – LC
Happy anniversary! (I think)
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