Sour Frank winked at Rosa as he sipped her coffee. “Hey, Rosa, did you make the taco bowl that Trump was eating for that ridiculous photo-op? The one where he said he loves Hispanics?”
“Very funny, Frank.”
Romero jumped in. “Not as funny as when Trump’s staff canceled the watermelon event he scheduled for next week. When’s he going to do an ‘I love white people’ photo-op at Golden Corral?” Romero gulped down his scrambled eggs. “That dude gives bigots a bad name. America will never elect a sexist racist to the White House.”
Rosa, Carlos, Romero and half the diners in the cafe looked heavenward and crossed themselves silently.
I asked Romero, “Did you see the news? Jan Brewer offered herself to Trump as a possible vice presidential running mate.”
“You’re kidding. Wow. Vice Apprentice of the United States of America.”
I had a theory about her delusion. “Must be the side effect of eating scorpions for breakfast.”
Rosa pointed out the obvious. “I think a woman on the ticket would help Trump. Of course she’d have to be a very special woman.”
I had a suggestion. “Like ... Sarah Palin.”
Romero thought for a moment. “Palin or Brewer. Now that’s a tough call. How could Trump ever decide between a half-term governor and a term- and-a-half governor who’s a half-wit?”
Rosa said, “I see no one is above name calling anymore.”
I asked Lurlene when she thought Rep. Martha McSally was going to endorse her party’s nominee. “She’s going to have to take a stand soon on piggy boy. Is she going with Billie Jean King or the Bobby Riggs of 2016?”
Sour Frank snarled, ”Talk all you want. Women love Trump. His wives are super-models!” We all fell silent. Sour Frank excused himself to use the restroom.
Lurlene ignored Frank’s remarks and took off on Arizona’s senior senator. “Can you believe it? McCain came out in support of Trump! And after Trump said McCain was no war hero — because he got captured!”
I said, “What do you expect from the genius who gave us Sarah Palin?”
Lurlene sniffed. “McCain and Trump. Please. Never put a man whose favorite phrase is ‘You’re fired’ in charge of the nuclear launch codes.”
I said, “I’m just grateful the state legislative session ended with KidsCare intact. I was surprised! This year’s meet-up reminded me of the movie ‘Deliverance’ more than once because I thought I heard dueling banjos during the budget sessions.”
“At least our lawmakers voted to outlaw dog racing. Greyhound Park is going to have to give up the dogs. They should try ostriches or camels.”
“How about small mammals, like ferrets, or weasels, or legislators?”
“Can’t train a legislator to chase rabbits. They only chase dark money.”
Just then Sour Frank returned. “Hey, Rosa, I just checked out your bathrooms. You don’t have a transgender option.”
Lurlene chuckled. “Are you from North Carolina? You all spend way too much time in public restrooms looking over your shoulders. Must be some kind of post-Civil War trauma that left you all so jumpy.”
I declared I couldn’t believe that “the whole country is talking about a stupid law that obsesses about who can and can’t use a certain bathroom. And this from the party that wants less intrusive government.”
Lurlene said there was a bright side to the fuss. “North Carolina’s bathroom law is so stupid we Arizonans got to experience a moment of superiority.”
Rosa pointed out to all of us that moment was short lived. “Would you like more coffee, Lurlene?”
Lurlene thanked Rosa and wondered aloud if there was going to be a special S.W.A.T. unit formed to patrol North Carolina’s bathrooms.
Romero said, “Have you all heard the Caterpillar story?”
Lurlene nodded. “I love the ‘Very Hungry Caterpillar’!”
“Not that one, genius. Didn’t you hear the good news? Caterpillar is coming here — with high paying jobs!”
“Yup. And I heard the Rio Nuevo folks and the mayor and council felt the earth move.”
And with that Rosa slapped my bill on the counter.
