It was the summer I went into 7th grade that changed my life. I hate admitting this to people, but I peaked in middle school. In middle school I was the "it" girl. I had a boyfriend every other day and I had tons of friends. However, with my family, I was simply the "klutz" girl.
My Dad, Beth, Louis, Mike, Rachel and I shared a Winnebago for a month and went across the country the summer of 2000. It was the opportunity of a life time and I remember feeling angry that I had to be involved. I didn't want to go on the trip, I wanted to be with my friends that summer, they were all together working at the "J" (the Jewish Community Center). I was also angry cause at the time because I believed no one in my family liked me. I hadn't yet grasped the concept that people can be angry with you but still love you. I simply thought anger was the end of the road.
Looking back, I'm more than grateful for having the chance to go across the country--and not just because it left me with more than 1 embarrassing "Brooke-story."
Anyway, the Winnebago was pretty big. You walk in it and to the left was a master bedroom, the bathroom, and kitchen. To the right, the "family" room, and a bed above the driver seat. At times, we were in that Winnebago for 5 days in a row, driving through the dessert and underpopulated areas.
I was always hungry. Always. And hot. And I always complained about being both hungry and hot! Needless to say, I was a joy to have on the trip.
My dad only stopped the RV to sleep. Otherwise, we had a bathroom and a kitchen. I was going through my usual complaints when my dad finally said, "Brooke, get a damn drink from the fridge, sit down, and shut up! You're such a kvetch (Yiddish for a person who complains a lot)!"
And so I did.... Well, I had intended to do just that but, as I opened the fridge to get a drink, the Winnebago came to an abrupt stop. Before I could fully understand what was going on, I was treading fluids for my life. I know my family was talking to me but I couldn't make out the words. My dad pulled to the side of the road, opened the door to the living area of the Winnebago, and was greeted by gallons and gallons of miscellaneous fluids.
I'll spare the boring details. In a nut shell, I was kicked out of the Winnebago for 30 minutes while my dad and Beth attempted to clean the flood. I tried to help but they had locked me out of the RV.
When I was finally let back into the RV, no one would talk to me. It was a fun next 6 hours to San Fransisco.
So, we went on this trip across country for a month. We went to many memorable places but the place I remember most is Last Vegas. Which is kind of ironic since most people go to Vegas and "forget" their time there. But, you need to keep in mind that I was 11, and though I was a wild kid, I was never that wild.
I don't remember Vegas for it's vivacious aura--though it was magical. I also don't remember Vegas for its humidity in July--though it was 120 degrees and I hate the heat. No, I remember Vegas because it is where one of my top 10 most embarrassing stories took place.
Setting the scene:
It was 120 degrees in Las Vegas. We were staying at Bailey's Hotel but there wasn't a great pool there. My family and I went over to The Paris Hotel, next door, for their better amenities.
We got to the pool and it was packed! We had to set up our pool area on the bare cement because every lounge chair was taken. On top of that, the pool was over crowded with people and I was sure there was no room for me.
When I saw my sister Rachel enter the pool, I immediately followed. When we were in the water, I was greeted by the delightful scent that I later learned was called, "Body Odor." I was so grossed out by this scent that I didn't notice my sister pull my bathing suit bottom to my feet, leaving me standing there, bottomless.
By the time I realized I had no bikini bottom on, Rachel had already set off swimming. I was pissed! I have never really been embarrassed about my body, so that wasn't the issue. I was annoyed that Rachel had pulled one over the Brooke-ster. The dire need for payback was overwhelming.
I set off swimming in hopes to find her, but the pool was so crowded, and polluted with lotion that the task was incredibly difficult. My only advantage was that I remembered she was wearing a purple bathing suite with flowers on it.
I must have swam the entire length of the pool before finally finding her. This was going to be good! I had it all planned out--I was going to pull her bathing suite bottom down from underwater, pinch her toosh, and pop out of the water and go "HAH!" I was so excited for this plan that I was laughing to myself underwater.
As I proceeded to act out my masterful plan, perhaps as I was pinching her toosh, I realized that this lady was not my sister....
Well, I couldn't hide in the water all day. Slowly, I poked my little head, with a bright red face of shame, out of the water. I was frozen in place, my eyes locked on this lady, her eyes locked on mine, until the silence was broken by Rachel's cackle. She had seen the whole thing and could not contain herself from uncontrollable laughter. As I did often when I was in trouble, I broke into laughter as well.
I don't know if it was my laughter, or that we were in Vegas, or that this lady was just very nice (or drunk), but she opened her mouth and politely said," No worries, happens all the time" and swam away.
"Don't stick your finger up your nose. 'Cause your nose knows it's not the place to go. You can sniffle, you can sneeze, but I'm asking you please, don't stick your finger up your nose."
When I was little, I was such a booger-picker. Truly, it was for territorial purposes. I would mark things as "mine" by strategically placing a booger there. For example, the wall above my bed where I slept was covered in boogers. Every article of clothing I wore was covered in boogers. People would tell me to stop but like most habits in my life, I couldn't.
I'm not really sure when The Booger Seat began but I do know how it began. We used to have a 1988 green Buick. My sister and I always fought over the back right seat so I branded it with a booger. I guess I have an addictive and inattentive personality (we'll get to this later) and before I knew it, the entire back seat was covered in "Brooke-boogies."
No matter how much we fought, my sister always put me before herself. I remember the day she said, "Brooke, you sit in that seat! It has your boogers all over it!" I had expected her to complain about giving me the seat but leave it to my sister to be the better woman!
I loved my seat with the boogers on it. To this day I don't know why no one else wanted to sit there. It was by far the comfiest seat and, since the boogers covered the window, the sun was never in my eyes.
