her motor mouth, but at least I had some peace and quiet.

(Just to show that I’m not the only one who can’t stand her, when I got off the bus at the Casino, I tried to tip the driver, as is customary, but he gave me my money back. “No thanks,” he said. “I should tip you – she (meaning Tom’s mother) sat in that jump seat the last time I drove this group, and I almost left the bus stranded on the freeway and walked home rather than listen to her for another minute. You really saved me today!”)

When we got inside the hotel portion of the casino, and got our room assignments from the group check-in desk, I started to pick up Mamacita’s bags, since the bell staff was completely overwhelmed, and I knew it would be a while before they were delivered. This provoked a shriek of outrage from The Mean Queen (not Tom, his mother): “You put those down! Don’t you touch those bags! I don’t want you handling anything of mine! Tom, you take those bags away from him this instant!” All this, of course, in front of Tom, the rest of the seniors on the bus trip, the entire hotel staff, and a lobby full of people. Tom was making his usual ineffective attempts at quieting her, which only provoked more shrieking, but now she was directing more of it at him than at me.

One of the other senior ladies came over and said, “I’m so sorry – that was uncalled for. Please don’t be embarrassed – you were just trying to help, and we all know what she’s like. Just ignore her – we all have to.” I thanked her, and after giving Tom a glare that I knew he would remember for quite some time, I picked up my own bags, and left his bags conspicuously in the lobby, as he tried to deal with his Old Bag.

One of the few things that Tom had done right for this trip was to get her a room by herself, and another room next to it for us. I dumped my bags in our room, showered quickly, and changed into some comfortable clothes to head for the bar. Tom still had not made it to our room, and judging from the level of ranting and raving that I could hear through the walls from his mother’s room next door, it might be a while…

I headed downstairs, intending to stake out a barstool in the first place I came to that served serious liquor, and wash out the memories of the bus trip with a few – and possibly quite a few – Long Island Iced Teas. When I asked at the desk where the bar was, the clerk said that the hotel bar didn’t open until 8:00pm, but that in the casino you could get served at any of the tables or the slot machines by one of the floating waitresses. That brought up an image of mermaids swimming by with drink trays – sort of like that bit Ben Stiller did as a ‘Mer-man’ in “Zoolander” – but I left it alone. I