Hitting the Snooze Button ... on Life

Thank Heaven .... for little brothers
Istanbul.

"So, you've never smoked anything, ever, whole life??"

The answer never changes. "No," Elizabeth says, exasperated that I continue to pose the question. Somewhere out there, the creator of D.A.R.E. must smile, the president of Phillip Morris must cry, and Marion Barry must be like, "Why not? If Frito Lay fires you for it, you could always be mayor of the District!"

But even if Elizabeth did want to become the next Bill White (which would never happen in our hometown, since her last name is not something that falls in line with the recent "surname has to be a color to become mayor of Houston" precedent), she "just can't stand smoke."

So of course, seeing how much she likes to eat (scroll down to the next post), the little brother in me decided to feed Elizabeth a big smoke sandwich when we went to a Turkish nargyle bar during her visit.

Trust me, she's somewhere behind the cloud.

My senior by just 14 months in age, but 14 centuries in maturity, was here in Istanbul for eight days. Weeks ago, Elizabeth let me know I wouldn't have to be alone for Thanksgiving, since she had decided to take time off to come visit me. The only thing she needed to know was where to book the flight.

Hmmmmmmm.

I made that noise for about a second, and already had the answer.

"Turkey," I replied immediately. It was a no-brainer. "For the blog pun material alone, it's gotta be done. I mean, we've got to eat turkey in Turkey, don't you think?"

Apparently, the answer was no. Which is why I didn't feel all that bad about filling her space with hookah smoke.

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All that I asked of her was that she bring a turkey. That's it.

Okay, and maybe some stuffing ... and a pumpkin pie, if she had extra space in her carry-on. But I told her those were optional. Turkey was the only mandatory item.

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"I didn't want to get arrested, that's why!" Elizabeth, jet-lagged and hungry, snapped at me, as I peppered her with why-didn't-you's less than four hours after she landed. We were back to the good ole' days already.

"Arrested?!" Elizabeth. Weak. "For what! It's a freaking turkey! Even if you had been questioned in customs, it would have been hilarious! Can't you see that?"

"Quit yelling at me!"

"I'm not yelling!" I yelled.

"I'm not gonna bring a goddamn turkey all the way to Turkey just for a stupid little joke," she said, clearly not understanding that it was not a stupid little joke. This was a hilarious, big joke.

I stewed.

"All I asked was this one thing!"

Now I was pouting.

"Thanks a lot, Elizabeth. Thanks."

"There's nothing we can do about it now," she said, her nerves on edge. "Why can't you ever just DROP IT?"

I looked off into the corner. Our kebap dinners -- which every restaurant in Istanbul seems to cook at some satellite location, before bringing them from across the street on a big tray for you to eat -- still hadn't come. We were both battling "food stress." Silence.

"I still don't understand.."

"SHUT UP!"

Silence. Our trip was off to a wonderful start.

She rolled her eyes. "Listen, we can try to find an American hotel on Thursday, okay? Maybe they'll have some sort of Thanksgiving meal or something."

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It was Thanksgiving morning. Elizabeth was propping my laptop on the window sill of our hotel room, trying to find a place for us to eat a proper turkey dinner.

"Well, that's out," she said.

"What?" I asked, pulling my head out of my book about travels to the Middle East, Eastward to Tartary.

"Well, at the Four Seasons, there's a dress code," she said, implying that there was a weak link in the group, and that it wasn't her.

"I have pants!" I said. She wasn't moved. "And a collared shirt!" Still not moved.

"You have AH pair of pants, and they're not good enough for the Four Seasons. We're just gonna have to go eat at that nice kebap place," she said.

If only she had brought that turkey.

The "nice kebap place" was definitely nice ... to sit in. The portions were miniscule. The prices were exorbitant. But we definitely got to sit on pillows on the floor, which made it A-OK with me.

Plus, my sister and her big corporate paycheck made sure I only had to throw in a few bucks. A happy Thanksgiving, all around -- even without a turkey.