Perhaps

I was a bit hasty to be so quick to judge Mother. Today is a good example of that. I went to Ventura to meet a friend at the Psychic Fair. First thing I did wrong was go to the Marriot. Why the Marriot you ask, when the Psychic Fair is at the Crown? Because I am delusional and am under the impression that I can still remember something ten minutes from now without writing it down. I can't and I have yet to accept that fact.

Now I'm at the Marriot and I asked the young man at the front desk where is the Psychic Fair? And he replied he didn't know, but there is a group of Neuroscientists in the banquet room discussing Alzheimers. If only psychics could help those that suffer from Alzheimers, I ponder and then I scurry off to the Crown Plaza after calling Sandy for directions because she has it WRITTEN DOWN.

I get to the Crown, pull off a ticket stub to park and the bar lowers behind me. I drive around and cannot find a place to park and the little yellow bar at the other end won't lift up to let me out. Fucking piece of shit. Probably runs off of a Delco Battery. I drive back to where I entered, backwards, and no one is there to help. I drive back to the gate and it still won't rise. If only I had Cheryl with me.

Now there are two elderly ladies (who should obviously be at the Marriot) sitting and staring at the gate. "Can you get out?" I ask. "No," they exclaim in unison. I then proceed to instruct them to back up because I am driving my truck through and I don't want debris to get on their car. They are quite excited to be in on the adventure and I tell them I will not be held hostage. And they shout, "Good for you" as they back up and wave me off. I then proceed to drive up and I give the gate one more chance to rise, it doesn't. Fucking impotent piece of shit. I back up, gun it and down the road I go.

While flying down the freeway it occurs to me.

I am my mother.