Working at the Circus

Sometimes, talking with my Mother is like working at the circus.

My brother recently visited, and on the day he returned to the Desert Southwest, my Mother and I had the following conversation.

Mom: “Did you and the baby make it home ok?”

Me: “Yes.”

Mom: “How was the drive?”

Me: “Long, and I’m kinda tired. What’s up?”

Mom: “Well, I’m worried about your brother. He just called and he’s in Boise. Did you know he had a layover in Boise?”

Me: “No. I thought it was in Vegas.”

Mom: “Well, he’s in Boise, and then he has an hour in Vegas.”

Me: “Hmm…doesn’t sound like enough time to win any big money, but maybe he’ll hit a decent slot machine.”

Mom: “Well, it says here that he’s scheduled to leave Boise at 2:14 p.m. Is that Mountain Time or Pacific Time?”

Me: “Mountain.”

Mom: “How do you know? Did you look it up on the Internet?”

Me: “No Ma, I just know that Idaho is in the Mountain Time Zone.”

Mom: “Ok. And then it says that he’ll arrive in Las Vegas at 2:35 p.m. How can he get there so fast? What time zone is Las Vegas in?”

Me: “Pacific, Ma.”

Mom: “How do you know? Did you look it up on the Internet?”

Me: “No, Ma, I know that Las Vegas is in the Pacific Time Zone.”

Mom: “How do you know?”

Me: “Because I used to live there and I know.”

Mom: “Ok, so is Boise on my time zone or on Pacific?”

Me: “On your time zone.” (Note: In Arizona, they don’t switch time like the rest of us have to twice each year)

Mom: “So, he’s going to leave here at 2:14 my time and arrive in Las Vegas at 2:35 your time and so that’s 3:35 my time. Right?”

Me: “Right.”

Mom: “Are you sure? Did you look it up? Maybe I should call the airlines for clarification.”

Jesus you guys. Sometimes, I feel like I’m working at the circus.