Meet Banana

A few weeks ago, I introduced you to one of my nearest and dearest friends, Tata. There is another friend that I now want you to meet. We call her Banana.*

*not her real name. No really. It's just a nickname.

Tata and I have known Banana since Kindergarten, 1978.

Here's a little known fact: Banana looks exactly the same as she did in 1978. Only taller. True story. It's her most irritating quality. Well, that and she talks during movies. God help you if the movie you are watching with her is based on a book that she's read, especially a Nicholas Sparks novel. You will learn every minute detail of what is different between the movie and the book.

Whenever the three of us go to a movie together, an argument starts in the car between Tata and myself over who has to sit by Banana and hear how the movie differs from the book. However, I've discovered over the years that sitting by Banana in a movie can actually be a good thing. She doesn't really like popcorn, but always forgets that fact and buys a bag at the concession stand. She eats about two handfuls and passes it over to whoever is sitting next to her and says, 'Hey you want to finish this for me? I forgot that I really don't like popcorn all that much.'

Need me to finish your popcorn? I'm there for you, babe! Hand it over. I love popcorn and use it as my favorite way to get butter and salt into my body. Extra movie theater popcorn helps to offset the whole talking during a movie thing.

Banana has many food issues, namely she's extremely picky about what she eats. She's deemed certain foods grody and calls them 'invaders'. The food items include but are not limited to: tomatoes, onions, celery, peppers (both green and red), mushrooms, and most cuts of beef. There are few things more embarrassing that being at a nice restaurant and hearing Banana ask if her side salad comes with 'invaders'. Unless, of course, it's Tata recreating the ol' 'I'll have what she's having' scene from When Harry Met Sally.

While we are on the subject of food, Banana has a weird food allergy. She's allergic to cinnamon. This doesn't sound like a big deal. Until you offer her a stick of gum. Or until you are walking in together to a bachelorette party at a bar in 2005 and she demands that you remind her not to do a shot of Hot Damn.

Banana: Remember, I'm allergic to cinnamon so don't let me do a shot of Hot Damn.


Me: Okay.

Banana: I'm serious. Don't let me do a shot of Hot Damn.


Me: Alright. I got it. No Hot Damn.

Banana: Seriously, I'm serious. No Hot Damn. It contains cinnamon and I'm allergic to cinnamon.

Me: Dude. I got it. No Hot Damn. You know what? You are thirty-two years old. You shouldn't be doing shots of Hot Damn anymore. You should be having a more sophisticated drink. Like a martini.

Banana: Okay. I'll try that. Wait … martinis don't have invaders in them, do they?

True story.

I do get a kick out of Banana. In high school, we both drove VW Bugs. Mine was a '76 and I think hers was a '77 or '78 (and no, these weren't new cars). Both of our cars were the same shade of blizzard white with snazzy black vinyl interior, no heat, and marginal windshield wiper activity. We loved our bugs. Mine was a hardtop, but Banana had a convertible. It was awesome.

We used to see how many people we could squish into my car. The record? Eight humans. That's a lot for a VW.

In Banana's car, we used to put the top down and have people sit on where the top folded down. Then Banana would floor it over some railroad tracks and we would see if we could bounce anyone out of the car. The record? Zero humans. Thank goodness.

Know what's interesting about mid-1970s German auto manufacturing? The disturbing fact that my car key and Banana's were identical. I could unlock and start her car using my car's key. And she could do the same. Every once in a while I'd move her car in the school parking lot to a different parking spot, just to mess with her. She'd do the same to me. It amused us.

Banana is the middle child of my little group. I'm the oldest, Tata's the youngest (a fact that she never lets us forget even though a mere three and a half months separates us) and Banana's in the middle. Or as I like to think of us: Marcia, Jan, and Cindy. Except Banana's never invented a boyfriend named George Glass. And Tata doesn't have a lisp. But I've been known to, on several occasions, grab my schnoz and yell 'Oh my nose!'

Hey. We've all done it.

Although it's fun just hanging out with Banana, I really need her in my life. When I need complete honesty, I go to Tata. When I need life coaching, I go to Banana. She has this amazing gift of being able to figure out what the best option will be and how to get there. She can tell me how to handle different situations like a total grown up.

Also, Banana doesn't judge, she simply accepts people for who they are. I love this about her.

My world functions better with Banana in it. Sure she talks during movies and refuses to eat fajitas because 'they are loaded with invaders'. But I need her. Banana shows me how to be more accepting of people and how to act like a real live grown up. And she's the only one of my little group that can read a map. Pin It Now!