Carne Adovada
Munson and I could hear Palmer yelling but couldn’t see him even though he was sitting no more than ten feet in front of us. We had walked off the plane, through the corridor and out into gate area where our eyes met up with the intense mile-high Albuquerque sunlight. We could hear Palmer bellowing and calling us “retards” for everyone to hear, while we stood there motionless trying to adjust to the new surroundings. Embarrassing public displays were commonplace with Palmer and this was no exception. Once we regained our equilibrium we stepped forward to where Palmer was seated and he handed each of us a Waterford crystal goblet which he then filled with blush zinfandel from a jar he had brought with him. This was a small out-of-the-way airport in the 1980s and it was evidently acceptable for someone to make their way to a boarding area carrying a clear glass jar full of a liquid that looked very similar to gasoline. Thus began probably the last weekend that Munson and I sp