Carnival

Rule Number One of Being in Misahualli During Carnival:

Don’t you even think about getting into Dona Gloria’s without getting soaked or sprayed or painted. Or all of the above.

 

“We are going to Dona Gloria’s. And we are going to get our soup.” Dad announced. I’m pretty sure and nothing is going to stop me was written all over his face in love-the-food language.

“Eric, honey,” Mom started. (She always uses honey when she knows he’s not going to want to hear something.) “You know it’s Carnival, right? So there are probably a lot of celebrations going on in town. The restaurants will be packed, and we’ll have to wait for a really long time.”

“I don’t want to hear it,” Dad said. (See what I mean?) “We always eat there on Sundays, and we always get our bola de verde soup.”

“Okay,” she said. “Let’s go.”

We stepped outside and looked at the soccer field. It was now parking lot central. About a bazillion cars, trucks, and tour buses now covered the grass.

“Yay, soup!” Abigail cheered.

Oh, boy. I think to myself. I might need my war paint for this… woah.

We hustled through the street to town. Almost a mile through nothing but tourists, silly string, and red and gold dye.

“Where are we?” Elijah whispers to me.

“This is the way to town,” I said. To explain the whole we-don’t-recognize-our-own-street thing, I added, “It’s Carnival.”

He just said “Oh.”

We finally, finally got to the restaurant. It took us about an hour, which was because we’d been wading through all those people, but we were, at last, eating our lunch.

Never mind that it was already 2:00 pm. Nothing bad had happened.

No buckets of water dumped on our heads, no shaving cream squirted in our faces, and no red power thrown all over us. I was feeling pretty good about it all.

But then we left the restaurant.

Zzzquuiisssstt! And I can’t hear anything. I panic. What just happened? But then I wipe my face with the back of my arm. The entire left side is covered with fluffy white stuff. “Oh.”

Abigail starts laughing. “It isn’t funny.” I say.

Then, a few steps farther, out of the crowd comes another zzzquuiisssstt! And both Abigail’s and Mom’s faces are completely frosted with white foam. “Ha, ha!” I triumph. “So I guess it’s every man for himse–” and then comes the sound of something shooting out of an aerosol can. I look up, and then it hits me. Literally.

I’m choking. I’m blind. All that’s running through my head is this tastes like soap; what is it? And, whoever did that is in for it. My mouth was open.

“Gracias!” yells Mom.

“Wow, look at you!” Elijah shrieks.

“That’s…”

“Well, what are you waiting for?” I sputter. “Get him back!”

“With what?” Dad asks.

I yank a bunch of quarters out of my pocket. “How much for a can of silly string?”

And a bucketful of water comes splashing down on me.

A palm covered in red dye smacks my wrist.

Ah, yes. Carnival.