I have been nominated by my blogging friend, Mark Bialczak, to participate in the Five Photo Five Series Challenge.
When my boys were little, I took them on a road trip to New Orleans. This was when they were probably 3 and 4 years of age. They loved road trips in fact, they still do. They also loved getting annoying little toys out of vending machines, you know, bouncey balls, fake money, and pretty much anything pokey, which ultimately ended up on the floor for me to step on when the said item had lost its entertainment factor.
On this trip to New Orleans, they both acquired Sticky Hands. These are little gel like hands made out of some type of gelatinous material that is very sticky. I am not sure what the fascination with Sticky Hands is all about – all one does with them is fling them on to objects, they stick there, and then one takes them off and flings them on something else. These Sticky Hands are like really long, amazingly tenacious globs of mucus, made to be flung about (sounds like great fun, right?)
My youngest flung his Sticky Hands everywhere. On the day in question, we went on a tour through the cemetery (yes, the one in which the Voodoo Queen is buried), he flung it at things all the way through the French Quarter and all the way back to the hotel – the Sticky Hands were thrown, and stuck on things and thrown again. By the time we arrived at the hotel, his once bright pink Sticky Hand was a dull puce, grey and granular from all the dirt it had picked up from each object it had been flung at and stuck to.
The hotel was brand spanking new. In the massive foyer, with the high ceilings, the smell of fresh, clean paint still lingered in the air and mixed with expensive scent of perfume from the elegant ladies who had previously passed through. We were all pretty tired, worn out from our marathon adventure through New Orleans. Despite my admonishment about NOT throwing the Sticky Hand anymore, my youngest flung that Sticky Hand up into the air. And, as if in slow motion, with me bellowing a useless ‘Noooooo’ the Sticky Hand flew up into the air, high into the air. We watched in horror, as that grey Sticky Hand began its descent. It didn’t fall directly straight to the ground, it made a little jaunt, and ever so nicely adhered itself about 20 feet up against the pristine, newly painted butter-cream colored walls. That is where it stayed. A long pendulous, pedunculated mass of grey gelatinous material that swung back and forth, ever so gently with the breeze from the ceiling fans.
The three of us stood there, with our necks craned back, staring at the grey Sticky Hand, swinging in the breeze. The Concierge, whose desk was directly opposite from the wall which was now adulterated by this gooey mass of disgusting material, had arisen from his desk and was also staring at it. I put my hand to my mouth, speechless at the sight of this stringy mass. Even my boys were quiet, as we stared at this atrocity. When I was able to regain my composure, I apologized profusely to the Concierge. The Concierge was so gracious and said something like “Accidents happen” but we knew this was no accident. He said “Not to worry” and shuffled us off to our rooms.
The next morning, we came down to the foyer, and did a sideways glance up at that wall. The Sticky Hand had been removed, and all that was left was a Rorschach shaped grease stain. I wonder to this day, if they were able to completely eradicate the remnants of that Sticky Hand.
Here’s how this challenge works: You post a photo each day for five consecutive days and attach a story to the photo. It can be fiction or non-fiction, a poem or a short paragraph that shares your insight or inspiration of or from the image. Sorry, my entry today wasn’t a paragraph, but the story had to be told.
Upon submitting each entry, I am supposed to nominate a blogging friend to participate. I nominate my blogging friend at Whole.
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Categories: Five Photo Five Series Challenge
Hilarious! I can see why you would never forget that story. Nor would the hotel 🙂
I was quite horrified by the whole thing!!!!
Just as well it wasn’t thrown at the Voodoo Queen’s Mausoleum or you might still be calling two zombies in to tea.
xxx Huge Hugs xxx
Umm…actually it was. Don’t think I didn’t spend the rest of the trip looking over my shoulder.
Hope you are feeling better!!!!
Much improved now thanks so much , breathing without noticeable effort.
xxx Mega Hugs xxx
Oh that’s a really good thing. One shouldn’t have to think really hard about breathing. So glad you are feeling better, you had me so worried!!!!!!
Lol this is so funny. I had a sticky spider man. And would throw it at the walls and it would ‘stickily’ ‘crawl/fall’ down. My mom would also get quite irritated with me 😉 And the trip sounds quite fun 🙂
Mithai, I had a skeleton, “Mr. Glo Bones,” who did the same thing! Until one sad day he would do it no more.
I think my kids may have had one of those. After a while the ‘glo’ stops glowing because of all the dirt it has picked up along the way.
Exactly. Spider man also stopped sticking to the wall one day. It was one of the saddest thing ever. I know how you feel!! <3
Now I want another one!
I got mine free with a chips packet :p Now I don’t know where to find another one 😉
We find them in the vending machines and gumball machines (at least we used to).
What is the fascination with these sticky things I wonder? The trip was amazing. The boys had such a great time. We met some fantastic people and ate great food!!!
I loved my spider man…..I don’t know, maybe it was just cool to watch lol….and that’s the greatest thing about trips, people and food. fun fun 😀
Wonderfully written. I love the way you built the suspense. “Even my boys were quiet..”
For my boys to be quiet, it has to be a monumental occurrence. Thank-you for the lovely compliment!!!!!
I could totally picture the scene. Compliment deserved!!
Haha, that’s a hilarious story. Thanks for sharing.
Thanks for reading, Lori!!!
Oooh! I love sticky hands! I used to get those out of the gumball machines all the time and annoy the crap out of my grandma with them 😀 😀
Your back. I was just about to come in search of you. In fact, I think I will do that right now.
Somebody in that hotel that night put some sort of spell on your boy, S.D. Did he report anything odd to you, do you recall? The tale of the Sticky Hand of New Orleans is quite compelling and horrible, both. Cue the scary music!
I think it may have something to do with him sitting on the grave site in the cemetery. The stone actually shifted back, and I have never seen a 3 year old jump as far and as high as he did. It was immediately after that, he requested we stop at the Voodoo store to pick up some nightmare pills. Perhaps you are right – it was a spell of some type.
Wow! That is really spooky, S.D. That New Orleans lore is so dark!
It is – can you imagine how his Southern Baptist Grandmother reacted to his request to be taken to a Voodoo shop. Now that is scary!!!
Work this into your next novel, please and thank you.
I will!!!!!
Again… great reading material during our long drive. Yes, my kids love those cheap toy vending machines.. even at 11 and 9…I knew immediately what you meant by sticky hands. I hate those things. It would get dirty with hair stuck to it…and then they would slap each other in the face with it.. ew!
Those sticky hands are so disgusting. My youngest’s was grey and granular by the end of the day. So gross. Why do they sell stuff like that to kids? Why do they have those stuffed animal machines at restaurants? Is it a conspiracy just to drive parents completely batty?
…and on our driving trip.. trying to find food sometimes is a challenge and then damn mcDonald’s appears (my daughter says OOOH.) Noooooo. because she always wants a happy meal for whatever toy. both kids want the minion thingys. really? I can’t tell you how many old Mcdonald (hahahah, old Macdonald ei-ei-oh) – anyway old Macdonald toys we’ve had to toss out while cleaning rooms. Ugh. AND we don’t even go that much. I think they mysteriously multiply.
Oh I remember the Happy Meal days, with the toys that get EVERYWHERE. UGH!!!!! Most of those toys ended up on the floor in a strategically placed spot, for me to step on. I hate the way the fast food places and the movie companies are in cahoots. Marketing to the younger crowd. Should be a law against it.
I have to “secretly” hide the “crap” toys in the trash. Talk about strategically placing them so that when my daughter went to toss out something, she wouldn’t see it… she has taken things out of the trash before and came yelling at me with evidence in hand. (shit, how did she find it. Quick, Blame the dog)
Pack it up in the Target bags (that’s what we use to pick up dog poop – and I can tell you we have a lot of it here with the Pterodactyl). Then put it straight in the big garbage can – that way no one will ever be able, or want to, find the evidence.