We hit the freeway east with a full tank of gas and a fresh Mexican coffee each, for a fast trip home.

I had nothing in particular on my mind, but Mary was already working: on the phone, nose in her legal-looking papers, and quick scribbles double-spaced on yellow tablet.

I punched in the cruise control at 69 mph, started a tape of some music by someone, and drifted back to memories of my birthday party. It was great, even though it was a week early and somewhat a surprise. Susie’s turkey dinner was wonderful and it was fun to see my sisters Karrie and Kathy, my brother Ernie, and of course, Kathy’s husband Tom. He really can be funny, especially when he laughs at himself. He had great stories and he does live an adventurous life compared to most.

The rest of the trip was fast, but rather uneventful. Four short potty stops with one double duty…we got gasoline also.

But boy did I get hungry during those six hours, and I sure didn’t want to cook when I got home (nor did Mary), so bright idea number one: “Let’s invite Jeff and Dora to join us for dinner at some good Spokane restaurant on the way home.”

And what better place than the new Mexican place downtown: The Azteca.

Mary and I arrived about one hour before Jeff could get there, so we went for a fast, 25-minute walk through Riverfront Park. It was a crisp, clear, late-winter evening, so Mary’s brisk pace was appreciated as it loosened the road kinks and woke up all the lazy body parts. It was fun watching Mary’s one and a half steps to my one step reflected in the dark glass across the front of the convention center, as we sped by. She does everything with gusto.

Oh! I forgot about the part where I decided which restaurant to go to. Going back to my birthday party, I got the greatest gifts. Karrie, Kathy, Ernie, and mom and dad gave me a bonsai plant. Not just any bonsai, mind you, a 50-year-old 8″ tall spruce tree in a wonderful chocolate-brown earthen pot. “I wonder why they got me something so old?” Oh well, it is beautiful. But the best gift came from my two sisters. Recognizing my regal status (in another time and place I probably would have been royalty), they commissioned an Aztec god headgear for me, made by a well-known Portland artist. Wow! Is it ever imposing!

It measures a full 38 inches from the bulbous symbol of Aztec power, Gold, in the front, to the arched, trailing, purple, red, black, and yellow tubes with the “poodle tails.” In the rear, on the back of the headband, is a second powerful Aztec symbol: a 3″ silver globe. Around each side of the crown are green tubes that enclose and protect the brain just above the ears, and the most important symbol of Aztec power rests on the upper rear skull, nestled within the trailing tubes: a large, vibrant-red, pulsating heart. “Is this great or what?”

The instant I crowned myself, I became larger than life—more important, something special. A leader among mere mortals! DARE I SAY AN AZTEC GOD SYMBOL.

It made me want to strut!

Well, for certain I became the center of attention. Everyone wanted to look at me and several took my picture. They even all gathered around for group photos so they could prove they had been near me at my glorious moment.

My only disappointment came Sunday morning when I realized there wasn’t enough room in the car to wear it and we didn’t have a sunroof. Oh well, it doesn’t have a chin strap anyway.

So I suppose by now you can probably guess why I chose The Azteca restaurant for dinner But the best was yet to come.

Picture this: me in my clean Levi’s, desert boots, “big ugly fish” t-shirt, and my headdress strutting into the main entrance of The Azteca restaurant.

The hostess, other employees, and just plain folks were in awe! An Aztec god figure was right there in the restaurant! Of course they all wanted to know where I had acquired such a marvelous adornment. But I don’t think I owe explanations to peasants.

We were seated quickly, as we should’ve been…

You should’ve seen the expression on Jeff’s face when he told the hostess he was there to meet another couple and she said, “You must mean the people with the funny hat.” Can you imagine the impertinence!

Jeff really liked my display, but he couldn’t wear it because he had just combed his hair with moose and was afraid the green, side-brain-case protection tubes would put concave dents above his ears. Good thinking, Jeff. Besides I wasn’t quite ready to share yet!

Oh yes, I forgot another fun part.

Right after we sat down, but before Jeff arrived, a real clown with baggy pants, painted face and all, walked up to us and was aghast when he saw my god symbol headgear. His job is to walk through the restaurant, entertain, and make balloon sculptures for patrons.

He lovingly examined my prize and showed some envy and inadequacy, but he made Mary a heart with a dove in it anyway. He knew it looked puny by comparison, but what else could he do? I laughed inside.

Dora was impressed when she arrived and was pleased that the only remaining seat was next to me in the booth. Since Jeff chose to sit next to his mother across from me, she got to sit by me. This somehow made her more important. She did look extra special when I allowed her a short trial of wearing of my royal plumage. She did put it on backwards, but that gave her a sort of rakish look, style with a little insolance.

The rest of the meal was rather tame. Good Carne Asada, great company, dark beer, and laughs.

The poor clown tried to ignore me as he worked around the room. Other guests with children really enjoyed him and treasured their pirate swords, bunnies, and other simple items. But all the while I could see he was sneaking envious glances over his shoulder at me.

And then my moment of glory!

As a rose to leave, I very deliberately placed and adjusted my crown on my head, and strode magnificently towards the door, followed by my entourage. When the two families with young children spotted my wonderful headpiece, their mouths literally fell open.

“How did you rate that? My kids only got little things and my wife didn’t get anything from the clown,” exclaimed one father.

“One has to be very important,” I replied without missing a step past their tables.

As I reached the door, I turned and gave my best parade wave to the crowd, did a regal 180° turn, and disappeared into the night.

WHAT A GREAT 50th BIRTHDAY.

Ken Kaiyala