One of the things my mother and I really enjoy doing together is segundiando (thift store shopping). My mother has been taking me to segundas (thrift stores) before I can even remember. When I visit her in San Diego we always have at least one day where we drive around to different segundas.
Another thing I really enjoy doing with my mother is eating. On one visit my mother wanted to take me to a restaurant that had great seafood and then we would hit up some segundas. The food at the restaurant was great! I had camaron al mojo de ajo (garlic shrimp) and loved it. Then we were off to a new to me thrift store.
The thrift store promised to be good and I was particularly excited because other than my mother and me, there was only one other customer there (she happened to be in a wheelchair). I love it when I have a store to myself and can take my time going through all the racks. Everything was fine until I started to feel a rumble in my belly. Not good.
The rumble would not go away. It kept building and building and I knew that eventually that rumble was going to escape my body in the form of gas. I was trying so hard to keep it in and continue shopping, but it was becoming painful. Remember the store was almost empty. I decided to stay as far away as possible as I could from my mother and the other customer. I would find an empty aisle and surreptitiously fart. Luckily, they were silent, but most definitely deadly. I started to feel some relief, but every time I let one rip, the woman in the wheelchair would come rolling down the aisle and I would be so mortified that I would quickly move to another aisle. After this happened a few times, I decided I just couldn’t hang anymore and I told my mother I needed to go.
We left the store, got into the car and as we drove up to the light at the corner, the woman in the wheelchair was crossing the street right in front us. That’s when the following conversation took place… (keep in mind my mother has a thick accent)…
My Mami: Dat womin is eSICK!
Unknown Mami: What do you mean?
My Mami: Chee hab esomething die in her estomach. Chee FARK so much een de estore and eat esmell like cheet!
Unknown Mami: (At this point I’m laughing hysterically because my mother is blaming this poor woman who was just as much a victim of my farts, maybe even more because the poor thing was in a chair that put her right in the line of fire, for my intestinal issues.)
My Mami: Don laff. It esmell SOOO bad!
Unknown Mami: (still laughing)
My Mami: Why you laff? Chee make me want to throw up!
Unknown Mami: (through laughter) it was me!
My Mami: Que, que?
Unknown Mami: It was me. I was farting.
My Mami: Oh no, poor womin! You make her esmell that? You need to go to the doctor. You are esick!
Unknown Mami: (laughing some more)
My Mami: No, mi’ja. Really, you esick.
Moral of the story: Do not eat garlicky seafood before shopping.
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