The Weekend from Hell (in REAL time...well, almost)

As you may recall, I had a college friend visit me a couple of weekends ago. Remember the one who provided less than specific flight information? Yeah, THAT ONE. For the sake of anonymity, let’s call her “Trisha”.

In case you were wondering, I did finally meet up with her at the airport. Trisha was on a Delta flight that had been routed through Atlanta. So, yes, she WAS at DFW (which was a good thing after reading all of your comments suggesting that I had the wrong airport).

Anyway, back to the weekend: I had 1.5 days of comp time at work that I needed to utilize up before it expired, so I decided to use it for Trisha’s visit. I took all of Monday off and used the other half day the Friday she arrived. Only problem: I was going to be slightly late picking Trisha up on the day of her arrival.

Here’s an email I sent Trisha a week before her scheduled arrival informing her of my plans as it pertained to her visit:

Bad news: I might be a little late picking you up at the airport next Friday. I should be able to get there between 1-1:30, though.

Good news: The reason I might be a little late picking you up is because I got 1/2 day off on Friday (so I have to work until 1 or until my boss goes to lunch and then I'm free for the rest of the afternoon) and all day Monday, too!

Anyway, just thought I'd let you know. I'm using comp time, so I don't have to use vacation time or anything like that. Sweeeeet!

7 days!

-Deals

So, Trisha had been informed that I was planning on being late picking her up at the airport a week in advance. Not hugely late, just a little late (like half an hour). In fact, she sent the following email response acknowledging it all:

“Awesome! Well, knowing the air industry, I'll be late anyway. :) No worries though, I'll just hang out in the terminal and entertain myself. I can't wait!”

Of course, that was BEFORE I realized that I had no flight information for her whatsoever. But even that didn’t delay me by much. Trisha called me a little after 1 PM on Friday to tell me that she had just landed. I, in turn, asked her what terminal she was in and what gate she was closest to. I think she said something like, “E 10”, and I replied with, “Okay, great. I’ll be there in 20 minutes.”

Not ten minutes later I started receiving text messages asking me how much longer it would take me to get to her. Trisha was hungry. Trisha was tired. Like any amount of whining was going to make me arrive at DFW any faster. I did TRY, though, and somehow managed to pick her up at 1:25.

First thing she says to me isn’t, “Hi”, or “How are you?”, or “It is so good to see you!” Oh, no, no. First thing out of Trisha’s mouth is, “I’m hungry.”

Me: “Okay. What are you in the mood for?”

Trisha: “I dunno. You live here. Not me.”

If I only knew that that statement would set the tone for the entire weekend…

All day Friday, I decided to dismiss her seemingly constant complaining – choosing instead to chalking it all up to the fact that she only had three hours of sleep the night before (she had to wake up at 3 AM to drive to Tallahassee to catch her flight to Atlanta). I figured she was just tired and grumpy, and her attitude would improve with a little R&R.

Still, though, tired or not, her relentless criticisms were hard to take. Trisha hates dogs, and treated mine poorly. She wouldn’t go near them, touch them or anything. She seemed especially annoyed when I let them in the house, like they had no business being inside. And it wasn’t like my dogs were misbehaving or jumping all over her, either. I think animals can sense when they are unwanted and Gypsy Kitty and Haskell avoided Trisha like the plague.

And the dogs weren't a surprise, either. I always let any potential overnight guests know that I have two large dogs that sleep indoors at night. When I told Trisha about them, she told me that the dogs wouldn’t be a problem. True, she wasn’t a big lover of dogs, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t temporarily coexist with them.

Haskell’s “box” (or crate) is located in the guest bedroom. Normally, when people come to stay with me, they don’t mind that Haskell will be sleeping in his box in the same room with them. He’s locked inside, so it isn’t like Haskell is planning on sleeping in the bed with the guests or anything. Plus, he’s quiet (except for the occasional squeak). So, really, his crate just happens to be located in the guestroom is all.

Anyway, Trisha told me on the phone BEFORE her visit that she didn’t mind that she and Haskell would be sharing a room. But she did (of course) once she got here. And poor, confused Haskell had to relocate to my room. In the grand scheme of things, this isn’t that big of a deal. It was just one more thing that irritated me, though. If you didn’t like dogs and were planning on visiting someone who has dogs, why wouldn’t you just get a hotel room? Because I’m NOT going to board my dogs just because you are coming into town. I don’t care what you say. They LIVE HERE, not you.

But I'm getting ahead of myself. Not all of you have heard about the finer details of this particular weekend, and I feel as though I may be muddying your perspective of Trisha with my own.

(Slow down, Deals. Breathe, breathe…)

It wasn’t just the problem with the dogs that got to me. Within moments of entering my house that Friday, Trisha starting criticizing…well…everything. She didn’t like my furniture (it looked like a grandmother had decorated), my house was too cold and drafty (her grandmother keeps their house at a toasty 80 degrees year round) my yard was too small (her grandmother’s yard is 20 times larger with better landscaping), my plants were all dead (it’s winter), she HATES azaleas (because I planted them last spring just to irritate her), my house smelled like bleach (so the toilets were clean – sue me!), etc. It just went on and on. She even did a thorough inspection of all of my framed pictures to make sure she was represented in at least one of them. Thank goodness I did have a picture of her on display, or I’m sure I never would have heard the end of it. However, the picture I had of her was taken six years ago before she lost a lot of weight. So – just when I thought I was safe – I was reprimanded for framing a “fat” picture of her. I couldn’t win!

But my PERSONAL favorite line was this: “I could have gone to Hong Kong this year for my birthday. But I came to Dallas instead.” She obviously had a lot of HIGH expectations for the weekend. I knew right then and there that this weekend wasn’t going to go well. How can Dallas live up to Hong Kong?!

Because I knew she’d most likely be tired on the day of her arrival, I didn’t plan very much for Friday afternoon other than picking places to eat lunch (Two Rows) and dinner (Mattitos). This ended up being a huge mistake, because Trisha apparently doesn’t take naps – especially when she is on vacation. She did, however, feel like going for a walk. So, I took her to White Rock Lake. Looking back, this walk was quite possibly the only pleasant part of her visit. The only complaint I can remember was that I kept walking too fast (or too fast for her), and it wasn’t that big of a deal for me to slow down. In fact, I quite enjoyed the leisurely stroll in the late afternoon sunshine.

After the walk, however, Trisha started right back up again. She was persistent, whiney and the conversation went something like this:

Trisha: “[Audible sigh] What are we doing? I’m hungry and want to do something. I didn’t come to Dallas to sit on my butt on your couch, you know.”

Me: “I know. I’m sorry. Trevor is on his way home from work as we speak. We’ll go to dinner once he gets here. Are you feeling like Mexican food tonight?”

Trisha: “[Audible sigh] I don’t care what we eat. Just as long as I get fed.”

Me: “Okay. Well, he’ll be here soon, I swear.”

Trisha: “[Audible sigh] What do you mean by ‘soon’.”

Me: “Well, it is Friday and the traffic tends to be heavier right before the weekend. He’s generally home by 6:15 or 6:30, though, so I’m expecting him pretty much any minute.”

Trisha: “[Audible sigh] …”

Me: “Don’t worry. He’ll be here soon..”

Trisha: “Just so you know, I don’t want to play 3rd wheel to you two all weekend.”

Me: “I know. You already told me. I’ve invited Amy and another friend of mine to go to dinner with us tomorrow so you won’t feel like a 3rd wheel.”

Trisha: “[Groan] So you invited people I don’t know to MY birthday dinner?”

Me: “Well, you know Amy…”

Trisha: “…Yeah, okay. Whatever. Call Trevor and tell him to hurry up, will you?”

Trevor and I took her to Mattitos for dinner. We both ordered the Chicken Fajitas Light, which irritated Trisha because she wasn’t planning on ordering anything “light” while she was on vacation. Somehow I think she expected us to change our order after telling us this. We didn’t.

Still thinking she was just cranky because she was exhausted after a day of travel, I recommended that we watch a movie at my house after dinner. Surprisingly she didn’t resist this much, so we returned home and watched BEST IN SHOW. She picked it out, not me. I was surprised since she doesn’t like dogs and all.

Afterwards, we started getting ready for bed. I asked her if she wanted to sleep in a little in the morning since she’d had such a long day on Friday. Her answer: “No. I don’t sleep in. I’ll be up at 6 AM whether I want to be or not. My body is normal and doesn’t need 15 hours of sleep a night like yours.”

My response: “I wasn’t talking about sleeping until noon or anything. I just thought we’d plan on sleeping in a little. You know, like 8:30 or 9:00?”

Her: “Whatever. I’ll still be up at six.”

But she wasn’t. She managed to sleep until 9 AM (thank goodness!).

The first thing I said to Trisha the next morning was, “HAPPY BIRTHDAY!”

The first thing she said back to me was, “What are we doing today?”

So, I started to tell her my plan which included brunch, a tour of the Arts District (mainly the Turner exhibition at the Dallas Museum of Art and a walking tour of the Nasher Sculpture Center), the dragon parade in honor of the Chinese New Year at the Trammel Crow Asian Art Museum, Dinner at Tucker’s on Ross, party at my friend Mandy’s house, and then – if we were still standing – I thought we’d go out to a local bar or club for some dancing. However, I didn’t get past the word “brunch” before she started in on me:

Trisha: “Brunch? How about breakfast? Unlike you, I need to eat three meals a day.”

Me: “Uhmmm, I have some food in the kitchen. What do you want? I have egg whites, toast and cereal. You are welcome to eat whatever you’d like.”

Trisha: “Whatever.”

Me: “Does that mean you don’t want to do brunch?”

Trisha: “Nope. Think: lunch.”

Me: “Oh. Okay. I guess we could grab something downtown.”

But we didn’t. Trisha ate breakfast, and then decided to take a shower. A loooooong shower. Afterwards, she announced she didn’t have any deodorant, so we needed to go to Target. I offered her mine to use in the interim, and she used it before yelling that scented deodorants induce her migraines. Apparently, it would have been MY fault if she came down with a migraine on HER birthday. Because I knew that scented deodorants did that to her and all. Couldn’t she READ the label? It says SCENTED right there on the bottle! Then, just to make me bite my tongue some more, she threw her wet bath towel at me and said, “Here. You do something with this. It’s your house.”

Meanwhile, I had texted Trevor about the possibility of him picking up a cake for Trisha after he got off work. He asked what kind, and (remembering that Trisha was a very picky dessert eater) I asked her the following questions:

1. Did you give up sweets this year for Lent?


2. We’d like to buy you a cake for your birthday. What kind of cake would you like?

She had given up sweets in previous years, so the question wasn’t completely out of left field. This year, however, Trisha HAD decided to give up cake. Well, except for birthday cake (a fair exception if your birthday happens to fall during the Lenten Season, I suppose).

The answer to the second question, however, was much more complicated. Trisha apparently hates chocolate cake (unless it is German chocolate), doesn’t like most white cakes or frostings (in general, but not always), loves coconut cake (but only if it is handmade), and so on and so forth. Part of me thinks she expected me to bake a cake for her birthday. Since THAT wasn’t going to happen (mainly because I’m not very good at it), I told her that she could order a special dessert off the menu at dinner that night.

Which leads me to Tucker’s. Trisha asked what kind of food they have, and I told her that it was a nice restaurant that served everything from spinach salad to bisque to elegant seafood dishes to pizza. Her comment: “So, you’re taking me to some pizza joint for my birthday?” She followed it with a very sarcastic “Greeeeeat.”

I texted Trevor back and told him to pick up a tiara instead.

Around 11 or so, I finally got Trisha into my car and we headed to Target. I thought it was going to be a quick trip. You know, grab some unscented deodorant and go. But no, no. She also needed a strapless bra, some kind of weird foot pad for her heel and new shoes. Oh, and Trisha doesn’t do anything fast. She sits there and agonizes over anything and everything. In restaurants, she has to read the menu from cover to cover before ordering. So, yeah, buying shoes is like that, but worse. In case you haven’t noticed how many DIFFERENT kinds of size 8 ½ women’s shoes they have at Target nowadays, I’m here to tell you: A WHOLE FREAKIN’ LOT! We were there for almost two hours. I. Almost. Died.

Trisha finally did make a shoe decision, though, and we made it through the check out a little before 1 PM. Since she had already started in on how hungry she was, I decided to take her to a restaurant close to Target for lunch instead of immediately heading downtown. So, I took her to the Kona Grill at the Northpark mall. They have a wide variety of cuisine, which I thought Trisha would approve of since she is such a picky eater. But she didn’t like it. Or rather she was mad at me for not telling her which peanut flavored entrée to order (note: I don’t like peanut flavored food. I like peanuts and peanut butter, but not anything peanut seasoned. Does that make sense?). I told her I had friends that had ordered the peanut flavored whatever, and they had all seemed to enjoy it. I had never tasted it, though, because (again) I do not enjoy peanut flavored cuisine. Well, long story short: Trisha didn’t like what she ordered and blamed me. Awe-some.

We finished lunch around 2 PM, and headed downtown. I thought we’d check out the Turner exhibit at the Dallas Museum of Art before heading to the Trammel Crow Museum, but Trisha didn’t seem interested visiting the art museum at all. So, we headed across Flora to where the Dragon Parade would take place at 4 PM. Having almost two hours to kill, I recommended walking through the Asian Art Museum. Trisha had been to Asia, so I thought it would strike her fancy. Surprising enough, it didn’t. At one point, I felt her staring at me as I read a text panel next to a beautiful, old Japanese tapestry. Looking up at her, Trisha stated, “Are you going to read everything?” I think I said something like, “Sorry, I thought that is what you did in museums,” before continuing on.

Trisha was VERY persistent that we get good seats for the Dragon Parade. So, around 3 PM, we headed back down to Flora, picked a place she liked, sat down and waited for the show to begin. Since we had an hour to kill, I tried to make small talk. I didn’t get very far.

Me: “How’s Florida?”

Trisha: “It sucks.”

Me: “It can’t be that bad.”

Trisha: “Believe me. It can.”

Me: “Why don’t you move if you don’t like it?”

Trisha: “Believe me, I will.”

Me: “Where do you think you will go.”

Trisha: “I dunno. Somewhere else not in Florida, I guess.”

[LONG PAUSE]

Me: “What do you think of Trevor?”

Trisha: “I don’t know him. I just met him last night.”

Me: “I know. But you have wanted to meet him for years now. Any thoughts?”

Trisha: “As far as I know, he could be a serial killer.”

Me: “Oh.”

[LONG PAUSE]

Me: “I was thinking after this we could go get manicures for your birthday.”

Trisha: “No. I don’t think so.”

[LONG PAUSE]

Me: “I was thinking about taking you to the new Old Red Courthouse Museum tomorrow.”

Trisha: “Why would you take me there?”

Me: “Well, you like history and I thought you’d enjoy learning about the history of Dallas and all.”

Trisha: “I’d rather not.”

Me: “Oh. Okay.”

[LONG PAUSE]

Me: “Well, what would you like to do?”

Trisha: “I told you. You live here, not me. How am I supposed to know what to do in this city?”

Me: “I dunno. You seem to have a pretty good idea what you don’t want to do.”

Trisha: “I want to do things that you never do. How about that?”

Me: “We ARE doing things I never do. I never come to the Arts District except for work-related meetings anymore.”

Trisha: “No. I mean new-new things. Let’s do stuff you never do. You know, stuff outside your comfort box. Things you’ve never even considered.”

Me: “Like what?”

Trisha: “[Sighing…] Never mind.”

Me: “No. Seriously. Like what? If you want to do something I’ve never considered, chances are I won’t consider it now. Because, you know, I haven’t considered it and all.”

Trisha: “Like I said, ‘Never mind’.”

I finally gave up trying to chit chat with her. The hour seemed to drag on and on – it was miserable. Luckily, though, the dragon parade was worth waiting for. At least in my opinion. Who knows what Trisha thought. I’m guessing she didn’t like it.

After the parade, Trisha and I went for coffee at Starbucks (mainly because she wasn’t interested in getting birthday manicures). Then we went back to my place to get ready for dinner.

For her birthday dinner, Trisha had brought along a pink, cotton dress. It wasn’t super formal, but a dress you’d wear to brunch or Sunday morning church. However, out of the blue, she decided she wasn’t going to wear it after all. Her reasoning: why risk getting it dirty since I was only taking her to some “stupid, old pizza place”. It was only after seeing me dress up for dinner that she changed her mind.

As mentioned before, I had asked Amy and Bert to join us for Trisha’s birthday dinner, so Trisha wouldn’t feel like a 3rd wheel to Trevor and me on her birthday. JLR and RR were supposed to come as well, but decided to go to some sort of “game night” instead. Melissa was also invited but ended up being out of town that weekend. Lucky ladies!

While we were waiting for everyone to arrive, Trevor sat down on the couch and turned on the TV. I don’t think he really wanted to watch anything in particular. Just turn on ESPN or something for background noise while he waited for Amy and Bert to arrive. When he hit the TV “ON” button, CNN popped up. Obviously, the last person who had used that TV had been watching the news. Even though Trevor immediately reached for the remote control, Trisha shouted, “Oh, no! We are NOT watching CNN on MY birthday!”

Trevor: “Hold on, hold on. I’m changing it. Just give me a second.”

Trisha: “Well, you are obviously not doing it fast enough because I can still see it.”

Thank goodness Bert rang the door bell at that moment, or Trevor may have said something he would have regretted.

Amy, knowing it was Trisha’s birthday (and wanting to do something nice for a friend of mine), made a mix CD as a present and gave it to Trisha on the way to Tuckers. Thinking it would be fun, I immediately stuck it in the player in Trevor’s car so we could listen to it. Wanting to know what “mystery” tracks Amy had selected for the mix, we listened to a portion of the song before hitting SKIP to find out what was next. Every song that came on Trisha (apparently) hated. She – literately – had NOTHING nice to say about anything on the CD. In fact, after the last song on the CD had been played, Trisha turned to Amy and said, “So, essentially you gave me lame CD for MY birthday? Gee, thanks.” Like Amy had to give her anything for her birthday! Whatever happened to appreciating the thought – even if you didn’t like the gift? Grrrrr…

Dinner was relatively uneventful. Trisha was obnoxious, but by then that was to be expected. I DID make her wear the tiara Trevor bought her for the entire meal (it was just fitting somehow).

Since we didn’t know what to give Trisha for her birthday, Trevor and I decided to go in together on a gift card for her. It wasn’t a lot – just $25 or $30 because I was also planning on buying her dinner at Tuckers that evening. Anyway, we put the gift card inside her birthday card as a surprise. Although we watched Trisha open the card, she never even acknowledged the gift card or said thank you. Instead, Trisha kind of rolled her eyes at the whole thing and put the card away.

And dinner? Yeah, not so cheap either. Trisha’s portion of the meal was $75. She had ordered some of the most expensive items on the menu and insisted on having her own dessert. Then, she didn’t seem to enjoy anything she ate – constantly commenting on how she would have made it or how much better a cook her grandmother was than any chef. And I thought she was going to pitch a fit when the Tuckers wait staff didn’t sing her HAPPY BIRTHDAY! It was like nothing was good enough, no matter how hard we tried. Oh, and Trisha NEVER (NOT ONCE) said thank you for any of it. She just rolled her eyes and criticized the entire evening.

After dinner, we had plans to stop by a party being hosted by my friend, Mandy. Trisha didn’t seem interested in going to it (wanting, instead, to go dancing), but we persuaded her to go for a little while because it was still early and none of the clubs really got going until after 10 PM.

On the way to Mandy’s, Trisha whined and whined about what we were (apparently) making her do on HER special day, and we promised her again and again that we wouldn’t be there for long. Just 30 to 45 minutes. Long enough to have a drink and say HI to everyone. Then we’d leave. Bert was already planning on going dancing at a club on lower Greenville, and I figured we’d tag along with her (Bert goes out dancing pretty regularly, so she is much more “with it” when it comes to clubbing than I am. After everything else, I didn’t want to risk taking Trisha dancing at some place she’d refer to as “lame”. Much safer to go with Bert).

So, we got to Mandy’s and there were a bunch of people there eating, drinking and having a good time. Someone had hooked up Mandy’s PlayStation and several guys were singing karaoke as a part of the AMERICAN IDOL game (which was even more humorous considering the oh-so creative avatars they kept creating for themselves before they “performed” in front of everyone). It was a fun party. Well, except for Trisha who sat in the corner, didn’t talk to anyone and refused to even look like she was happy (much less having a good time). People kept coming up to her and trying to make small talk, but Trisha was having none of it. She even yelled at someone for accidentally mispronouncing her name.

We had only been there for about half an hour, when I tried to offer Trisha a drink. She was sitting on the other side of the bar from me, looking absolutely put out. Since she looked so annoyed, I even added, “Don’t worry. We’ll leave soon. I promise. Just give it 10 or 15 minutes more, and then we’ll go dancing.”

And that is when Trisha let me have it. In front of everyone she chewed me out for bringing her to, “a lame a$$ party on HER birthday.” She couldn’t think of anything more awful than karaoke, and I was a horrible friend for exposing her to such a boring party in the first place on her special day. And to think she flew in for such torture!

That was it. I couldn’t take it anymore, I was so angry. Not wanting to make a scene (or any more of one), all I said was, “Stop. You need to stop. Now.”

Trisha: “Excuse me?”

Me: “Just stop.”

Without another word to Trisha, I found Trevor and told him we needed to go. I then walked over to wear Trisha was sitting, grabbed my purse and – without so much as looking at her – said, “Get your stuff. We’re leaving.”

Luckily, I found Mandy downstairs (I was SO happy she wasn’t in the room when Trisha had her outburst). I quickly thanked her for inviting us to her party and told her that we’d love to stay but my out-of-town guest wanted to go dancing.

Back in Trevor’s car, Trisha didn’t say much except to insult Amy’s mix CD once again. It took about all I had not to snap back at her. I was so angry.

I decided once we got back to my house that going out dancing was out of the question. Quite frankly, I didn’t feel like it. I knew that no matter where we took her, it wouldn’t be good enough. Plus, I couldn’t even look at her, much less think of something to say. So, Bert went on to the club without us. Trisha, realizing that her birthday festivities were over, went into the guest room and closed the door. Amy, Trevor and I sat in the living room for awhile afterwards in silence. None of us knowing what to say (or how to say it since Trisha was just a room away), but silently agreeing that Trisha was a big problem.

The next morning, Trevor and I had planned on taking Trisha to brunch at a cool little place called Buzz Brews. We had also asked Bert to come along because – again – we didn’t want Trisha to feel like a third wheel all weekend.

The night before we had discussed doing brunch around 10 AM. If Trisha woke up early and required breakfast, she was more than welcome to the cereal and milk I have at home. However (despite her swearing up and down that she cannot sleep past 6 AM), Trisha still wasn’t up by 9:30. So, I gently knocked on the guest room door and reminded her of the plan. At first, I didn’t hear anything so I tried again. This time I got a response, and it was a cranky one. Trisha announced that she wasn’t going anywhere before she took a shower and “readied” herself for the day.

So, despite the fact that Bert was due at my house by 9:45 AM AND Trisha was aware of this plan in advance, we all just sat around staring at each other in the kitchen while Trisha took her sweet time getting dressed and ready to go.

Trisha had apparently decided to make us pay for “ruining” her birthday by giving everyone the silent treatment. Seriously. She said nothing unless spoken to. It was horrible. At one point, in an effort to make small talk, Bert asked Trisha, “So, what do you do back in Florida?”

Trisha (sharply): “Nothing.”

Bert: “Oh. Okay.”

The whole morning was like that. You could literately choke on the tension.

Oh, and brunch? She hated it. Wouldn’t even try any of the menu items – choosing instead to just order an egg and some toast. Trevor paid for everyone’s meal, and even though both Bert and I thanked Trevor repeatedly, Trisha said nothing as usual.

After brunch was over, I recommended that we head to Neiman's at Northpark to check out their sale. Amy had mentioned it the day before and Trisha seemed interested. Plus, I knew Trisha was keen to try on a pair of boots she had seen in a Neiman’s catalogue recently. It seemed like a good activity that Trisha would enjoy (especially since she didn’t seem to like anything I had suggested the day before).

But (surprise, surprise) Trisha didn’t enjoy Neiman’s either. This was only complicated by the fact that the boots she had seen in the catalogue were not anywhere to be found.

Great.

Thinking she might enjoy shopping somewhere else, we left Neiman’s and entered the mall. Walking into Kate Spade:

Bert: “Oh! I just love Kate Spade!”

Trisha: “It’s too expensive.”

Bert: “But looking is half the fun!”

Trisha: “Not if you are me.”

Bert: “Well, I love to look.”

Trisha: “That’s just you. Believe me.”

Bert: “Okaaaaay.”

Needless to say, we ended up leaving Northpark not long after we arrived.

Trying to think of where to go next, Bert and I offered a variety of museums and attractions we could visit, but none of them interested Trisha.

Bert: “How about the Zoo?”

Trisha: “No. I hate zoos.”

Me: “Well, we could drive to Ft. Worth and check out the…”

Trisha: “…No. I came to Dallas. Not Ft. Worth.”

Bert: “How about the Sixth Floor Museum?”

Trisha: “No! I’ve been there already and I don’t want to go back.”

Me: “Well, what would you LIKE to do then?”

Trisha: “I dunno. You live here, not me.”

Seriously. Every suggestion we made, she turned down. But Trisha wouldn’t give us any clues as to what she would rather do instead. I felt like screaming, “I don’t read minds, you know!” It was so frustrating.

Thank goodness Bert kept trying (the saint!), and when she offered to give us a private tour of Dallas Heritage Village at Old City Park, I jumped on it before Trisha could pooh-pooh that idea as well.

Bert’s tour was AWESOME. She got us in for free and had keys to all the locked buildings at the museum. So we got to go inside some of the houses that no one else touring the park that day got to venture in to. It was like we were celebrities or something. Plus, Nip and Tuck (the resident donkeys) LOVE Bert. When they saw her approaching, they both nickered in greeting and came over to the fence and let us all pet them. According to Bert, the only trick to gaining Nip and Tuck’s affection is through their stomachs. Specifically: Apples. Show up with apples on a quasi-regular basis and those two mammoth jackasses will love you forever. Sigh. It must be wonderful to work somewhere with cute, fuzzy animals!

Sadly, there is no known “apple trick” when it comes to Lucy the cow (or Trisha for that matter). She just stared at us from the middle of the pen she shares with the sheep (looking extremely annoyed and put out as always).

Of course, no matter how interesting Bert’s tour was, it did nothing for Trisha. She walked behind us at a snail’s pace, looking completely and utterly detached and bored. On several occasions I heard her sigh loudly and roll her eyes as Bert was talking. Trisha made absolutely no effort to pay attention – choosing instead to text message on her cell phone. It was ridiculous, not to mention rude.

Here’s the thing: it wasn’t like Bert was working that day. It was, in fact, her day off. She was giving us the tour of Dallas Heritage Village out of the kindness of her heart. Even if Trisha was mad at me, it didn’t give her any reason to treat my friend that way. It was like Trisha was a five year old child moping around because she didn’t get what she wanted (not that any of us knew what that was, but still!). At 29, Trisha should know to treat people with respect – especially strangers who are just trying to do her a favor and show her a good time.

And did Trisha thank Bert at the conclusion of the tour? Of course not. She just walked to Trevor’s car and got in without saying a word.

After leaving Dallas Heritage Village and Bert (who had afternoon plans), Trevor and I decided to drive around downtown. The original purpose of this voyage was to make sure that Sonny Bryan’s smokehouse in the West End was open on Sundays (as Trisha had announced that she wanted BBQ for before the weekend was over). Once there, however, we decided to drive around and show her some of the sights. So, we drove through downtown (being careful to avoid anything to do with JFK since Trisha wanted nothing to do with that) pointing out things like the public library, city hall, farmers market, Scottish Rite Cathedral, etc. We would have continued with this impromptu driving tour of Dallas if Trisha had seemed the slightest bit interested in what she was seeing (which she wasn’t).

My favorite moment from the “driving tour” was approaching the Texas Longhorn Cattle Drive Sculpture in Pioneer Plaza with Trisha in the car. I’ve always enjoyed the sculpture. It is, after all, the largest of its kind anywhere in the world (depicting 50 steers and 3 cowboys). Friends that have visited me in the past have enjoyed getting out of the car and walking the length of it to better appreciate the vast amount of space the sculpture occupies (not to mention the work that goes into creating a life size work of art like that). However, Trisha just looked up when I asked if she wanted to get out of the car for a closer look and said, “No need. It’s just a bunch of metal cows.”

Riiiiiiiiight.

Not knowing what to do next (and getting no help from the backseat), Trevor and I decided to take Trisha to the Arboretum. It was a beautiful day – nice and warm with a lot of sunshine. Still trying to be a good host, I paid for our parking and the three adult tickets. Did I get a thank you? Of course not!

We walked in a giant circle around the Arboretum, pausing to look at the various water sculptures and red camellias in full bloom. It really was a pleasant stroll, even if Trisha was behind us moping about.

For most of the walk, Trisha was quiet and didn’t say very much – except when she encountered an azalea. Then she’d remind us how much she hated them. Apparently, everyone on her block in Florida – including her grandmother – plants azaleas. So, when they all bloom in the springtime it looks like, “someone spray painted the entire neighborhood with Pepto-Bismol.” I guess we were lucky no azaleas were in bloom that weekend. Had there been, Trisha might have made us leave before we even arrived.

After we finished the circle around all the gardens, Trisha turned to Trevor and me and said, “Is that all?” Like she expected more, and was sorely disappointed. She didn’t seem like she wanted to explore any more of the various pathways around the Arboretum, announcing instead that she was hungry. Trevor and I tried in vain to find an open café on the grounds. Unfortunately, they were all closed, so we decided to explore the gift shop before leaving on the off chance it had something she’d like to buy or eat. Surprisingly, Trisha actually seemed to enjoy the gift store, and really looked hard at several of the items on sale there (even though she ended up buying nothing).

We left the Arboretum around 4:30 PM and headed back to my house to clean up and regroup. Trisha seemed excited about the prospect of eating BBQ, but we still didn’t have an “after dinner activity”. Not knowing what else to recommend, Trevor suggested going to see a movie. Trisha seemed interested, so we pursued it once we got back home by turning on my computer and checking out movie times and schedules. I thought deciding on a movie with Trisha was going to be difficult, and – although it was FAR from easy – we were able to settle on the same flick without as much trouble as I had anticipated. I think the negotiations only lasted forty minutes or so. The winner? Michael Clayton.

Since the movie was playing at the Inwood Theater, Trevor thought it would be best to grab BBQ at the Sonny Bryans on Lovers Lane instead of venturing all the way downtown. So that was the only part of the plan that changed. Well, that and the decision to stop at Sprinkles along the way. Trisha had read about the cupcake goodness in a magazine, and when Trevor mentioned that there was one in Dallas she all but fell over with excitement.

The stop at Sprinkles took awhile. Not because there was a long line (a Sprinkles first), but because Trisha spent about twenty minutes agonizing over which one to choose. In the end, I think she purchased four different cupcakes, but still managed to yell at Trevor for taking the last BLACK AND WHITE. Poor Trevor.

Next was dinner at Sonny Bryans. I was worried about the BBQ dinner because sometimes the combination of smoky smells and smoky flavoring in BBQ can trigger my migraines. I had told Trisha about this (I stupidly thought she would care since she too has problems with migraines), but to no avail. I did think ahead, though, and took both a Benadryl and a Frova (my migraine pills) as a preventative measure before we left my house. Luckily, this seemed to work, because I didn’t get a migraine. I DID leave dinner with a headache, but I’m not completely convinced that wasn’t just caused by spending too much time with Trisha.

Trevor offered to buy Trisha her dinner, but I told him not to. She had freeloaded for most of the weekend without ever saying thank you or acknowledging any of it. Enough was enough. Of course, this immediately changed once we arrived at the movie theater, and Trevor bought all three movie tickets. I think he thought she’d at least thank him for the movie when he handed her a ticket. But no. Trisha said nothing. Just stuck the ticket in her jean pocket and turned to walked away.

We had sometime to kill before the movie started, so I suggested we walk around Inwood Village instead of sitting in the theater lobby. I was kind of hoping Trisha would refuse to go, but she didn’t. Sigh.

We slowly made a figure eight around the shops and restaurants that make up Inwood Village. The night was warm, and it felt good to be moving after eating BBQ.

Along the way, Trevor and I were chatting about some of the stores in the complex. One of my favorites is a place called Jaya. It sells Asian antiques and furniture. Most of the stuff on display is out of my price range, but I DID buy my armoire there just before I moved into the house I live in now. A lot of my home is furnished by Ikea, and the armoire represented something nice and real that I had worked hard and saved for. Anyway, Trisha overheard me talking to Trevor about how the furniture inside Jaya was expensive (but not unrealistically so like THIS $20,000 armoire at The Market at Home store in Inwood Village) and just had to chime in. Apparently, if it was expensive it wasn’t worth owning at all.

I’ll spare you the details, but the end result was something like this:

My point: Yes, my armoire was expensive, but affordable (unlike some other furniture stores where similar pieces of furniture run at $10,000 or $15,000). I knew what I wanted and how much I was willing to pay for it. The armoire at Jaya was exactly the piece of furniture I was seeking at a price that wouldn’t break the bank.

Her point: She’d NEVER be caught dead buying anything in that store. Only somebody like me would waste my money on something so stupid.

So, yeah. Whatever.

A similar conversation occurred when we passed a store selling maternity cloths for women. Trevor has been talking a lot about marriage and children recently (feel my panic!), and made some comment along the lines of, “One day when we have children…”

Trisha, who apparently hates children and thinks people who have them are idiots, promptly responded with, “Well, if you do, don’t call me.”

Ya’ll: It took all my inner power (both physical AND mental) not to immediately snap back: “Don’t worry. We won’t.” To this day, I’m not sure how I kept that thought to myself. And Trevor? Yeah, he totally thought the same thing! Go us!

We finally made our way back to the theater. Trisha immediately plopped into a chair in the theater lobby and resumed texting on her cell phone. Trevor and I wondered around looking at things in silence (we were still within earshot of Trisha) until it was time to go into the theater and find seats. This – like everything else that weekend – was easier said than done. The first row Trevor selected was too close to the screen, the second had seats that were broken (at least according to Trisha) and the third apparently smelled of vomit (I only smelled stale, buttery popcorn. Not bile. But, then again, no one asked me). Finally, we found seats that Trisha approved of and settled in for the show.

I cannot be sure, but I’m almost positive that Trisha hated the movie. Afterwards, she claimed it was “okay”, but I swear she came close to falling asleep in the theater that evening. She was completely hunched over, with her head resting on her hand. Like everything else we did that weekend, Trisha seemed so disengaged and uninterested that it was distracting. She kept sighing throughout the movie. It wasn’t over-the-top or anything, but loud enough where I could hear it. Even though it was dark, I could still feel her eyes rolling somehow. Maybe I was just being too sensitive, though.

After the movie was over, we all piled back in Trevor’s car and headed back to my place. Hardly a word was muttered the entire way. Once we got home, Trisha immediately headed back to the guest room and closed the door without so much as a “good night” or “see you tomorrow”.

The next morning, Trisha woke up early and I could hear her moving around the house. I decided I wanted to sleep in, so I didn’t start to get dressed until around 9 AM. While I was brushing my teeth, Trevor turned on the Weather Channel. We had both heard the reports about the possibilities of severe weather that day, and wanted the most up-to-date information. After all, it might affect Trisha’s departure.

Sure enough, the Weather Channel was calling for the risk of severe weather to increase as the afternoon wore on. All the models suggested that the first line of storms would hit between 3 and 5 PM – right at the height of the afternoon rush hour (and the exact time we were planning on driving Trisha to DFW). So, I turned to Trevor and whispered the following to him:

“Trev, I need you to back me up on this. I’m going to go out there and tell Trisha that we need to take her to the airport after lunch because of the risk of severe weather. I don’t want to be on the highway in heavy traffic during an afternoon thunderstorm, and I’m assuming you don’t either. Something like that could make us late getting her to the airport. Miss her flight even! I think it is best we recommend leaving here for the airport around 2:30 or 3 PM. If we present a united front on this, I’m sure she’ll listen. Otherwise, she’ll just assume we want to dump her at the airport early.”

Trevor, thank goodness, agreed, and I went out to break the news to Trisha.

However, I wasn’t prepared for what happened next. I walked into the living room only to discover Trisha, already dressed and sitting on the couch, with her bags packed and ready to go. Not expecting this, I hesitated before saying, “Hi. Good morning!”

Without even looking at me, Trisha said, “I want to go to the airport. Now.”

Me: “But your flight doesn’t leave until almost 7 PM. It isn’t even 10 AM, yet.”

Trisha: “I’m going to try to get on an earlier flight. The weather looks like it is going to get worse as the day goes on, and I don’t want to get stuck here. So, go get dressed and let’s go.”

Me: “Okay. Give me ten minutes.”

I walked back into the bedroom and told Trevor the (good) news. We were ready to leave five minutes later.

The drive to DFW was made in complete and utter silence. There was nothing to say. At least nothing nice.

Upon arriving at gate E, I told Trisha to call me and let me know if she was successful in getting on earlier flight. If she wasn’t able to, and her 7 PM flight was cancelled due to weather, I told her I’d be more than willing to come back out to the airport and pick her up.

Her response, “Yeah, okay. Whatever.”

I then wished her happy travels, and asked her to please let me know when she got back home.

This time all I got was, “Okay. Bye.”

Trevor and I got back in the car, and watched as Trisha walked into the terminal without so much as a wave, thank you or a look back in our direction.

It might make me a bad person, but all I could think was, “Ding! Dong! The WITCH is gone!”

Trisha had insulted everyone and everything she had come in contact with during her stay in Dallas. It is one thing to treat ME that way, but leave my friends and family out of it.

The thing about Trisha is that she’s very proud of being both an only child AND an only grandchild. She’s spoiled and knows it. I think she believes that somehow gives her the right to treat everyone around her like trash. I honestly believe that Trisha thought I owed it to her to buy her meals, museum entrance fees, etc., and pamper her during her stay with me. Even more so since she had decided to come and visit me in Dallas instead of travelling to Hong Kong with her grandmother. And I would not have minded doing so if she had given me some clue as to what she wanted to do. Obviously, the plans I had made in preparation for her visit were not good enough. But I’m not a mind reader, so unless you tell me things you’d rather go do, see, etc., I’m probably not going to come up with the right answer on my own.

And then there was the complete lack of gratitude. I mean, would it have killed her to say “Thank You”? Especially to people like Bert, who gave Trisha a tour of a museum on her day off? Or Amy who made a birthday mix for Trisha just because? A CD which Trisha left in Trevor’s car, by the way. Apparently, Trisha didn’t feel moved to take such a “lame CD” back to Florida with her.

I had also purchased a copy of TEXAS MONTHLY and D MAGAZINE for Trisha’s visit, and gave them to her when she arrived. Trisha was a magazine journalism major in college, so I thought she’d appreciate having them (and also give her ideas of things she’d like to do during her trip to Dallas). Of course, she never thanked me for them, much less opened either one (at least not to my knowledge). And, after Trevor and I had taken Trisha to the airport, I found both magazines in a pile of garbage she had left for me at the foot of the (unmade) guest room bed.

I dunno. I guess this trip to Dallas was kind of make-or-break for Trisha and me. We were friends in college, but never very close. I mean, we studied abroad in London together and hung out on occasion, but we didn’t have very much in common other than a few mutual friends. Plus, staying in touch with her hasn’t been easy over the years. She’s very demanding whereas I like to think of myself as being more laid back and relaxed. It apparently isn’t a good combination as can be seen from the retelling of “The Weekend From Hell”.

Sigh. It really is too bad, but I just don’t see us being friends anymore. After Trisha’s display that weekend, I’m not sure I want to see her again, much less continue being her “friend”. Does that make me a bad person?

Probably.

I’m guessing the feeling is mutual, though. Trisha never called, texted or emailed me to let me know that she got safely back to Florida. Nor has she ever sent anything along the lines of a thank you note.

So, yeah. I suppose all that is left to say is:

THE END

How sad is that?