May I present my cousin, Josef Mengele?

Our friend Georgia operates Buffalo Tours, and we are pleased to sell tickets at the store. Yesterday morning Georgia got a lengthy call from a woman who was apparently near Albuquerque and desperately wanted to take the tour. Georgia assured her that she would have plenty of time to make the 1:30 tour.

About mid morning Becky took a call. It turned out to be from the woman, who needed driving directions to Los Alamos. She spent about five minutes with the woman before she had to take another call, so she handed the phone to me.

"This is Peggy. May I help you?"

"How do I get to Los Alamos?"

"Where are you now?"

"On I-25."

"You'll need to be more specific. Have you reached Santa Fe yet?"

"No."

"Okay, you'll need to exit onto New Mexico 599."

"How do I do that?"

"Before you get to Santa Fe, you'll see a sign for the exit to New Mexico 599. Exit where the sign reads 'New Mexico 599.'"

"Then what do I do?"

"Then you follow 599 north to US 84/285."

"Wait! Nobody told me about 599. Where's a pencil? I don't have a pen. I left my pen in the hotel in Albuquerque! How am I going to remember all this? WHO HAS A PEN?" I removed the telephone receiver from my ear. If her voice were music, it would be "Sounds of Construction and Demolition" by some minimalist composer. "Okay, I follow 599 to 284 and 285."

"No, you follow it to 84 and 285."

"That's what I said."

"No, it's US 84 and 285."

"WHO HAS A PEN? I DON'T HAVE A PEN! What do I do after I drive on 599?"

"You exit onto US 84 and 285."

"Is there a sign?"

"Yes. It says 'US 84/285.' You'll be heading north."

"Which way is north?"

"Just get in the lanes that take you to Espanola, Taos, and Los Alamos."

"I don't want to go to Taos!"

"Go north on 84/285 to Pojoaque."

"Perky? They told me I'd turn at Perky."

"Right. You'll turn at Pojoaque."

"I turn right in Perky?"

"No, I was saying that your instructions were correct. Turn west onto New Mexico 502 at Pojoaque."

"Wait! Nobody told me about any 502! Which way is west? WHO HAS A PEN! WHERE ARE WE? We have to stop for gas!" Sounds of car doors slamming. Apparently they'd just hove up at a service station. "WHERE ARE WE?!" Lengthy pause. Muffled conversation. "Okay, I think we're in Perky." By now I'm wondering whether the woman has suffered some sort of brain damage that has left her without the basic instincts of driving or, indeed, life itself.

"Get back onto 84/285 and take the exit to Los Alamos. There's a sign. There's an arrow. 502 will take you straight into Los Alamos."

"How far?"

"19 miles. Just come straight into Los Alamos on Central. We're at the first street light."

"What do you mean 'straight into Los Alamos'?"

Between Perky and Los Alamos she had called the store twice more. Becky and Alan both tried to walk her through the 19 miles, but it was mostly fruitless. Alan turned off the ringer on the phone and said that no one was to touch it for the next 40 minutes.

The woman, who announced herself as Joyce, and her husband finally arrived about 30 minutes before the tour, so they wandered around the store for a while. She looked with evident interest at the framed Christmas card with the photo of Glenn T. Seaborg and his family. "My cousin knew Glenn Seaborg, but I don't recognize any of the other scientists in this photograph."

Becky said, "It's Seaborg and his family. It's a Christmas card. The other people are his teenaged kids, not scientists."

Joyce was unimpressed. "My cousin worked up here," she said proudly. "He was the one who injected people with plutonium to see what would happen to them." We didn't really know how to respond to that.

She browsed through the store and started a stack of items at the counter. Georgia pulled up in her van. I asked to speak with her in the workroom. "After the tour we are prepared to offer you Xanax and booze," I told her.

They all got in the van, and the tour apparently proceeded without incident. Joyce came into the store again to look at everything she had stacked at the counter. She didn't buy anything.


WHO HAS A PEN? WHERE ARE WE?!