Tickets for Confetti

A few days before Carnaval, we received a note from the parents' association (PA) at the kids' school. We had to go to the PA office at 9:15 am to sign up for confetti and dinner. Maybe we misunderstood the note. Maybe the dictionary was wrong. Why would we need to sign up for confetti? That is weird. I went to sign up for dinner.

I arrived a few minutes after 9 am. The PA representatives arrived at about 9:20 ... chit chatted with friends and then opened the office. It is a room that can comfortably fit 4 people. Suddenly, it was filled with 15+ people. I was the first in line. That was really dumb. I should have let others in front of me so I could watch and listen - not blaze the trail.

A nice lady said something to me. I said Sí (Yes) ... which I always say when I don't really understand what someone is saying. I hate that but I can't help it; it is an automatic response. She grabs a blank piece of copy paper from a shelf, borrows a pen from someone in line, and waits for me. Obviously, she asked me something. Another PA lady looks at me and said, "Name your child." (in English). Good. I understood that. I gave her the kids' names.

I asked her what time it starts. She doesn't know. She asked someone who asked someone who asked someone. People started throwing out times. They settle on 4 or 4:30. Stupid question. Where will it be? She doesn't know. There's another brief debate and they decide that it will be in front of the school. Good. What about dinner? Dinner, what dinner? She doesn't know anything about the dinner. She asks someone. The PA lady says it is after the parade. The parade? What parade? I didn't know anything about a parade.

The woman helping me grabs another blank piece of copy paper from the shelf and writes down all eleven of our names (kids and adults) for dinner. Eleven people. She shakes her hand - the Spanish sign for "Holy Cow! That's a lot." Then she asks what we want for dinner. I don't know. The little 1/4 page note that the kids brought home from school didn't mention any choices. I ask what the choices are. She didn't know. She asks someone who asked someone else. A lady by door starts yelling various meal choices. She is 3 feet away but behind 10 other people who are chit chatting. I can hardly hear myself think.

Maybe I heard the woman by the door say potato. That is safe. I say potato to the lady helping me ... casually pretending that I've considered all the choices and selected my preference. She writes patata next to Bronson's name and then waits for me to tell her what each one of us wants. HAAAAA HA HA! After all this - did she honestly think I was going to give her 11 different choices? She was being exceptionally patient with me. I say that all 11 of us want potato. She looks at me funny.

Then I ask, "When do I pay for the dinner?" She doesn't know. She asks someone who asks someone. The PA lady says "Now." Another PA lady starts yelling about not having money for change - blah blah blah. Then the PA lady says that I need to pay before dinner. Did she mean before dinner like "some day" between now and the day of the dinner or did she mean before dinner "on" the day of the dinner? Whatever.

Where is dinner? She didn't know. Another PA lady butts in before the question makes its way around the room and she points in a general direction. Hmm. I guess it is somewhere in that direction. Another lady makes me a map on the back of the paper with the names on it. She said something about a church and a bank - blah blah blah. We're in Spain. There are churches everywhere. I try to memorize the location.

I didn't know what time dinner would be but I could not bring myself to ask. I had to get out of there. The nice lady who didn't know anything gave me a few scraps of paper and told me not to lose them. I thought maybe they were the confetti. No, those were our tickets for the confetti and dinner.

The kids didn't really want to go. The adults weren't exactly gung-ho either. It would be an adventure. We're in Spain. We are GOING to Carnaval! Woo hoo! Can't lose our little scraps of paper. They are our tickets.