in 1999 i spent most of the summer in burgos, spain with family friends while my mother attended university in madrid. it was an amazing summer for me in many ways, marking the birth of my personal independence and the beginning of my post-pubescent life.
at one point, a friend of the family i was staying with invited me and the girl about my age to go with them on a drive to bilbao and spend the day at the guggenheim museum there. i remember the car ride being long and hot and i was sweating the entire way but didn’t want to complain as i was being given the privilege of coming along with.
as we got closer, the father of the family, who was driving the car, decided he would practice his english on me.
he glanced over his shoulder and said, “you will see the big, green poopy.”
apparently i looked very confused. so he repeated, “at the museum, you will see the big, green poopy.”
i didn’t WANT to see a big green poopy but, again, i didn’t want to be rude so i nodded and tried to act excited, thinking all the while,
what the hell kind of museum is this??
he parked the car in the museum lot, getting more excited as we walked towards the building that looked like a giant lump of molten silver shimmering at odd angles in the sun, ever more intimidating as we approached.
"the poopy! it grows in the spring and now it is the summer! the poopy will smell!"
i was nearing terrified, until we rounded the corner…
"OH. THE PUPPY.” (what a difference a short u makes)
needless to say, before we left, i got a stuffed version of “the big green poopy” in the gift shop