"Baklava!"

This is a story I have been meaning to share since Thanksgiving. Indeed, it has come to be regarded as a fantastic joke by most in my circle of friends, so it is only fitting to also share it, here.

This story has its humble beginnings the evening I flew home for Thanksgiving. After a grueling day of flying, followed by a terrifying shuttle drive through the Virgin River Gorge in bad weather, I made it into St. George, which my parents drove into in order to pick me up.

It was probably 8 at night, I was tired, and I was hungry, but mostly I was tired and stressed and really just wanted to be at home, in bed, away from the bad weather and my dad's bad driving.

My dad, however, insisted on getting me something to eat first. "What are you in the mood for?" he asked. I said, "Well, I've been craving some good Japanese...maybe sushi?"

And he said, "Nah, we don't wanna do sushi. The only sushi place around here is really expensive, anyway. There's this really good Mediterranean place we just found. They have great baklava."

"Um...okay....I guess."

So we go to the Mediterranean place. Turns out, it's closed. I convinced my dad to just go home.

This was on Monday. On Wednesday, the day before Thanksgiving, it is tradition for the extended family to go to a pizza place and get pizza. My dad brought up the idea of the Mediterranean place, and how good their baklava was, but it was quickly shot down in favor of cheap pizza which would please everyone, even the kids.

Then, things got interesting. On Friday, my grandparents left early. This left Aunt and Uncle Cool, my dad's brother and sister-in-law, and Uncle Nice, my mom's brother. Between them, there were three children under the age of 12.

We decided to go the dinosaur museum in the early afternoon, because the kids were super interested. So we went, we saw, we had fun. There was a minor hitch of Aunt and Uncle Cool and their children being firm believers in evolution, whereas my dad is... well, sometimes he puts Glenn Beck to shame. There was some banter about it, which led to politics and whatnot, which my dad fervently believed he won.

Anyway, we then gathered in the gift shop, deciding our next move. It was about 4, and some of us were starting to get hungry, but mostly we just wanted a place where we could all hang out and be together before everyone went home the next day. Whether this was a restaurant or going back to the homestead, we didn't care.

So, my dad is wandering aimlessly, and we all decide that maybe we're in the mood for Olive Garden, or perhaps some Chinese. Then, my dad comes by and is like, "No, I want to go to the Mediterranean place."

Aunt Cool, quickly sensing the potential for nuclear war, said, "Well, we brought two cars. We can take whoever wants to go to the Olive Garden, and anyone who wants Mediterranean can go with you. But the last two times I had Mediterranean, I threw it up, so...."

"No. We are going to Mediterranean. All week it's been about what everyone else wants, and I want baklava." Please, imagine a 6'2'', 260 pound man saying this with all the petulance of a child throwing a temper tantrum.

The conversation continued like that for several minutes, with my dad repeatedly emphatically, "I want baklava!" I am fairly certain there was a legitimate foot stomp at one point.

Anyway, eventually he stormed out to the car. My mother went after him to engage in heated negotiations. My aunt followed shortly thereafter.

Meanwhile, I looked around and noticed that the entire staff of the dinosaur museum had been surreptitiously eavesdropping. One man even noted that he had thought about getting popcorn. And also said, "Well, you have to have one in every bunch."

Too true, dear sir.

To conclude the story, after ten or fifteen minutes of negotiations, my aunt came back in and announced that we would all be going to Fiesta Family Fun, an arcade-type place with batting cages and really crappy pizza.

Yup. Baklava, indeed.