A Christmas Story

My sister was born in Thailand. It's a long complicated story, but basically my father was stationed there during the Vietnam War and I ended up having a sister.

OK, so maybe it's not all that complicated.

Anyways, about the time she was 20 or so he started to feel guilty and went searching for her. After about 18 months he found her living in the jungle and presumably swinging from trees flinging bananas and shit every which direction. I suspect that more then anything he realized I had a real aversion to children and if he wanted grandchildren he was going to have to look elsewhere, because none were going to be springing forth from my loins anytime soon. But that's neither here nor there.

She made her way to the US and was quickly assimilated into our way of life. After she'd been here a few years we had a Christmas gathering at her house. A traditional Christmas meal of rice and food so hot it induced heavy breathing and sweat. While she was stirring up Satan's Cauldron of ungodly food she told a story about work.

(My sister is a blackjack dealer in Las Vegas.)

Her story went along these lines: "There was a man at work and I get so mad at him. I tell him he no longer play at my table. He don't go away. I get so mad I 69'd him."

I fell over trying to keep from laughing. Literally. I tipped out of a chair and was on the floor in front my aged aunts and uncles doing everything I could to not throw up one of my lungs. I blamed it on a cramp and they went back to eating. I truly wonder about my family sometimes. A presumably healthy young man is laying on the floor holding his side trying to keep his internal organs internal and they go back to eating like that's a normal occurrence. Then again they just heard a girl say she 69'd someone on a casino floor, so my flopping around like a freshly caught tuna was probably inconsequential.

Her comments went pretty much unnoticed by everyone else except my father. I caught his eye while I was on the floor, he'd heard what she'd said but he was able to contain his laughter a bit better then me. He told me later that he had to tell her she got her numbers mixed up and she probably meant to say she 86'd the dude. Of course my dad wasn't one to leave well enough alone, so he gave her a very graphic description of what 69 is. Thank God I wasn't privy to that little conversation.

I really fucking miss you dad.