Being married to the former Lynnette Pascua means many great things, but it also includes obligatory trips to the Blaisdell Center for expos or shows once every two or three months, and more frequently as the calendar approaches the holiday season. Lynnette mentioned this weekend’s Food and New Products Show earlier this week and that’s where we spent our Friday evening. Lynnette loves looking at all of the booths. Madison and I try to complete the mission of eating enough free food samples to compensate for the $7 parking fee.
We weren’t in the exhibition hall for five minutes when Lynnette and Madison noticed a booth selling nail art. The product looked like stickers, but the statement “It’s not a sticker,” was plastered on every hard surface at the booth. Apparently, it’s real nail polish (smells like it, too) affixed on an adhesive which can be torn off at the edge of the nail. It does not wash off with soap, only nail polish will get it off. It supposedly has maximum life of 2 weeks. “It’s so easy!” Lynnette said. There’s a comparison here to the e-cigarette, but I’m too lazy to make it. The salesman had us at “Now you don’t have to paint her (Madison’s) nails and say ‘Don’t move!’ every five minutes.” “But how are we going to spend our Saturday nights now?” I said jokingly. “Exactly,” he said without skipping a beat. Lynnette and Madison both got a set. Madison’s glows in the dark because it’s almost Halloween and of course it does. I have to admit. I felt a little left out of the accessorizing.
Judging from the booths at the exhibition, this season’s most popular products are solar panels and massage chairs. The solar panels I expected, but I can’t remember ever seeing so many different companies featuring massage chairs. I would have sampled one, of course, but the only chairs left open were the non-arm massaging, non zero-gravity ones. Still, I thought about it because Lynnette has decided (without consulting me) that the frequency of massages she gives to her loving husband should lessen dramatically the longer the marriage lasts. I should have signed a pre-nup.
Madison saw her cousins playing with a kendama last weekend and wanted to give it a try. She wasn’t able to successfully land the ball in any of the cups, but she still won because she didn’t give herself a black eye or dislodge a tooth. When we approached the booth last night, I saw her head turn and I said “No!” quickly and very briefly. She growled, but didn’t make a fuss. I think she knows she can’t use it properly. Besides, I could just confiscate one at work and bring it home for her.
We wanted to eat at the expo because Fresh Catch was three, but there were no available seats. Lynnette also had a coupon for Buca di Beppo, so we went there. Since it was a Friday, I knew that there would be a wait for the restaurant, and I was okay with the 30-minute wait. Madison wasn’t though. While Lynnette and I were perfectly content to play with out phones, make small talk, and inadvertently eavesdrop on the conversations of dozens of other people making the same wait were were, Madison was going out of her mind with boredom. I took her on walks around the area. We went up the escalators and walked back down on the stairs. Madison started doing Madison things like shuttle runs broken up by jumps, dancing, and playing this game where the ostensible objective is to get in the way of as many people as possible. Lynnette called Madison over to sit down. She had built up a nice sheen of sweat by then.
Well, 30-minutes ended up being an hour. By the time we were seated, I forgot I was hungry. Lynnette and I split a garlic shrimp and pasta dish and Madison ate the kid’s fettuccine alfredo. She was super-hungry, too. Dinner was great, but I was falling apart before the server brought out the check. I got into the car, leaned the seat back, and pumped up the AC. Madison did what she usually does when she gets cold; she covered herself completely with a blanket. When we were on the freeway driving through Pearl City, Lynnette asked me if Madison was sleeping. “I don’t know,” I said. “She’s covered in the blanket.” “Madison?” Lynnette called. No answer. “Madison!” Nothing. “Madison, I’m going to eat your gum by myself,” Lynnette said. Silence. “Yeah, she’s out,” Lynnette said.