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Yuri Tackles Tax Time

2010
04.14

Want me to fill out taxes? I fill out taxes!

Want me to fill out taxes? I fill out taxes!

So now I am in Alabama. Normally I travel weekends, but not this week. This week, I take April 14 off, and 15 too.

So now I am in Alabama. At airport. Waiting for airplane to take me to Georgia. People always say southerners in U.S. are friendly and cheerful, but many today not look happy. Why? April is Spring. They should be happy, no?

Then I hear pretty stewardess talk to other pretty stewardess. She looks stressed. She says “I hate the arse.”

I am surprised. I see her arse (I not look. I just see. I promise.) Pretty stewardess’ arse is nice.

“Down with the arse,” says pretty stewardess number 2.

Funny. I thought pretty ladies liked arses…how you say? Perky.

“Ill have to fill out the dang forms tonight after my flight,” says pretty stewardess number 1. So many pretty stewardesses in America. In Moldova, stewardesses look angry. “I hope I get a better rebate than last year.”

Arse? Fill out? Get rebate for fill out arse?

Variety is spice of life. And I.R.S. has variety of tax forms.

Variety is spice of life. And I.R.S. has variety of tax forms.

Oh! Ha ha ha. I feel so stupid, I giggle out loud. Ha ha. Of course. I.R.S., not arse. April 15 is tomorrow.

I still feel so stupid, I say in loud voice to pretty stewardesses 1 and 2, “I.R.S., not arse. You have to do taxes!”

Stewardesses number 1 and 2 look at me, look surprised. Stewardess number 1 says, “Sweetie, I don’t get half of what you’re sayin’, but, yes. I have to do my taxes. And the I.R.S. is an arse.”

No, I think she understands me real good.

“I am accountant,” I say. I point at my face in case my accent is hard to, how she put it? “get”. “I can do taxes. Want me to do taxes?”

Stewardness number 2 smile real big. “Why, honey, that is the sweetest, most darling pick-up line I have ever heard. Of course you can do my taxes.”

Pick-up line? What is that? I smile and pretty stewardesses 1 and 2 sit next to me, one on right, and one on left, only number 2 was on right, and number 1 was on left, okay?

They pull messy papers from bag. This will be fun!

“Where are you from, sweetie?” pretty stewardess number 1 says.

“I am from Moldova but I take seminar on U.S. tax forms.”

They look at me funny.

“Moldova? You sure you know how to fill out these forms?” says stewardess number 2.

“Yes! I take seminar. For fun.”

They look confused, but stewardess number 2 gives papers.

Muffled crying.

Muffled crying.

“Well, sweetie, as long as you can do ‘em better’n me. And anyone can do them better’n me,” says stewardess number 2. Or maybe stewardess number 1. Now I am confused. “Our flight leaves in an hour. Will that be enough time for you?”

“One hour. Yes. Plenty,” I say. “Why you not do taxes sooner? It is fun.”

“Honeycakes, I’m glad you think so,” says stewardess number…pretty.

So I finish taxes. Very easy. American taxes are fun. When I give papers to pretty stewardesses, old lady near us looks at me.

“”Excuse me, young man,” she says.

“You can call me honeycakes,” I say. Old lady looks surprised. “Or sweetie.” Still surprised. It is okay. I am more southern than she is maybe.

“I overheard you were an accountant,” old lady says.

“Yes, yes! I do your taxes?”

“Thank you so much. I left it till the last minute. I was going to do them on the plane, but I hate doing taxes.”

“No, no. Taxes, they are fun.”

Old lady looked surprised again, then she smiles. “I hate to ask this, but would you mind terribly helping my daugher with hers too?”

“Yes!” America in springtime! I come more in Spring from now on.

“Leigh Ann!” old lady screams loud. “This fine young man can help you do your taxes.”

Suddenly, no one is talking. Everyone look at me. I’m famous. I smile. “Make line. I do taxes.”

The more the happier!

The more the happier!

Southern Americans are very friendly. Grandmothers kissed me and gave me food. And almost everyone wanted to pay me! For filling out paper! Pay me to have fun! I say no. I can not accept , but they insist.

One problem. There is saying my grandmother used to say: “Have fun, and time will kick you in the arse.”

Or, in this case, the I.R.S.

This expression means that taxes were so fun, I did not see time. I did not hear stewardess call my name. I did not see airplane go bye bye.

Bye bye.

Bye bye.

Yes! I have so much fun, I miss airplane.

But it is okay. I meet many nice people. They call me “honey,” and “sweetcakes,” and “sweetie.” Old ladies want to marry me. They give me food. And put money in my pocket.

So much, I can stay in hotel. Tomorrow, I take airplane.

Do you not love April 15?

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