#540: The worst Prom date EVER

So, you think maybe you've had some bad dates? Yeah, uh huh, sure. Ever had your date interrupted by YOUR JOB?
Spring 2000: The X-wife had moved out months earlier, taking the only working vehicle, emptying the checking account, & leaving me to feed our 2 kids with absolutely NO kitchen skills. Lucky the 3 of us didn't starve 2 death. But I'm not bitter.
Confused, heartbroken & lonely, a co-worker at my then-newspaper job tells me she knows some1 who'd love 2 meet me. She sez this unknown woman is Pretty Hot, too. Bring her on, I say, trying to put on a brave face. My co-worker sets us up.
This unknown woman calls me later the same nite. We talk. She has a nice voice, seems friendly. I make her laff. A lot. She's a great audience. We spend a couple hrs gabbing. We agree 2 go out the following Sat nite.
Meanwhile, the Evil Management at my then-Newspaper job (the Willapa Harbor Herald, Raymond, Wash.; look them up & complain 12 years late, they'll just ignore you -- that's what they always did with ME when I worked there) hatches a plot 2 destroy my life:
Late Fri aft, the Evil Editor tells the rest of us Lowlife Minions that he was told by the Clueless Publisher 2 go photograph the local highschool Prom, 25 miles up the road in Aberdeen, on Sat nite. But Ed sez even tho he's gonna B right down the street at WalMart while the Prom's goin on, he's not gonna bother stoppin in 4 pictures of the Prom Royalty, & he's gonna tell Clueless Pub 2 Pound It.
We cheer. Ed's not such a bad guy sometimes.
Fast-forward 2 Sat aft, I'm getting ready 4 my Big Date. Phone rings. Ed sez there's bn a change of plans. I've now bn assigned 2 photoize the Prom.
Ed knows I have no car, no $$$, no way 2 get there. What he doesn't know is I have a date the same nite. So I tell him this. Can't he find NE1 else? Some1 with a CAR? He's gonna B 5 mins down the road at WalMart with his family -- can't he just pop in 4 a few quick photos?
"No," he sez. "YOU do it, or else you're fired."
I take a deep breath. This has bn building 4 months. It's all a conspiracy 2 get me 2 quit. The writing's on the wall. No matter how good a reporter I am, I'm 2 big a pain in the ass 2 deal with, & they don't know how 2 get rid of me. I won't quit -- they'll havta fire me.
I dive in. The phone conversation quickly descends in2 screaming & threats, all by me. Ed hangs up. I scream some more, then call Clueless Pub.
Can I at least use the Company Van so I can GET 2 the Prom? "No," he sez, "find out some other way to get there."
What the Hell am I sposta do? WALK?
"Cover it, or you're fired."
More screaming & threats, also all by me. Pub hangs up.
My daughter -- a very mature 9 years old at the time, who has chosen 2 spend the weekend with me rather than go see her Mother 4 the weekend on Fri -- has heard me screaming in2 the phone 4 the past 15 mins. She wonders if maybe I've lost it. I reassure her: I HAVE.
There's only 1 thing 2 do. We sit on the couch & wait 4 my date, who's already en route 2 my house. This is going 2 B an intresting evening....
My date -- I can't remember her name, but let's call her Trudy -- arrives within the hour. She's a fairly attractive blonde, pleasant & friendly -- & with a pair of breasts approximately the size of New Jersey. (Thank you, David Steinberg....)
She takes a seat on the couch & I make my pitch: If she doesn't mind hauling me 25 miles up the road to Aberdeen so I can take a few quick photos at the Prom, then we can go out 2 dinner afterward. We can talk on the way there. She can get 2 know my charming daughter -- who I wasn't Xpecting 2 have home for the weekend. I know it looks like a total disaster, but we might B able 2 salvage a nice nite from it if she can forgive me & bear with me.
I wouldn't have blamed her if she'd told me 2 Stick It. But Ghod bless her, she said Sure, Why Not?, I Didn't Have Anything Else Planned Anyway.... & other nice things people say when they're stuck in an Mbarrassing no-win situation.
So we hit the road & talk along the way. She's really nice. She laughs at all my bad jokes. She banters with my daughter. I start thinking I may B on2 Something Good here.
But I'm wrong. The disaster is still ahead.
We arrive. The ballroom is PACKED. It's DARK. There's a TON of highschool kids here. I leave Trudy & my daughter on a bench near the door & promise I won't take long.
I'm lying.
It's REALLY DARK. When I look in2 the camera, I can't C what I'm pointing it at. & this lame, primitive early-model digital camera won't focus or shoot without enuf lite. I hang from the ceiling, I pose in lighted doorways, I perch behind spotlites -- there isn't enuf lite in the ballroom 4 me 2 shoot. The flash on the camera won't even kick-in 2 help me lite things up, the room is so friggin dark.
I blow what seems like 2 hrs trying 2 get 1 decent shot. Finally, they announce the Prom Royalty & I drag them outside under some of the ballroom's outside-walkway lites 2 have enuf lite overhead 2 get some faces in focus. I take 1/2adozen awful, poorly-lit, posed photos & realize that's the best I'm gonna get. By then it's nearly 11 pm.
Me, my daughter & Trudy stumble out of the ballroom & set off 2 try 2 find a late dinner. I've learned that in the 2 hrs I've bn hanging from fixtures & begging highschool kids 2 B patient & give me some room, Trudy & my daughter have gotten 2 know each other pretty well. Wish I could say the same....
I am stunned 2 find there's NOTHING still open in Aberdeen. McDonald's is closing down, they won't even serve us up 3 measly cheeseburgers. A really good Oriental-food buffet closed at 10 -- there is NOTHING left.
We all heave a sigh -- my daughter is starting 2 get tired & cranky -- & Trudy drives us back home. It's really quiet in the car on the way back. I don't see how the evening could get any worse.
In the driveway, I let my daughter in2 the house, then turn back 2 the car. "I'm really sorry about this," I begin....
"It's OK," Trudy sez. "It wasn't that bad. I had a good time. You're funny, and your daughter's an angel."
"You're lying," I say. "At least about SOME of it. But will you forgive me? Can we try this again when I don't have to work?"
"Sure," she sez, & smiles. & I think: Maybe this isn't such a disaster after all.
"I'll call you," she sez. & she drives away.
Monday: Trudy hasn't called, of course. I'm angry, the photos I wasted a date 4 look like crap, & nobody at work will talk 2 me -- until my & Trudy's Mutual Friend comes in & stares at me.
"Man, what happened?!" she sez. "You really F'd that one up! Trudy says don't bother to call her -- she's not interested in seeing you again. She says there was no 'spark' there at all."
Yeah, This Just In. No Suprises Here. She was a really nice taxi service, tho....

(This post is 4 Allison, who nudged me....)

The Kids Are Alright....

After reading hilarious Irish reporter Eoin Butler's hysterical (& hopefully at least 1/2 fictional) write-up on raising 2 small children at "Tripping Along the Ledge" (http://www.eoinbutler.com/), it occurs 2 me that I am WAY overdue 2 write something Mbarrassing about my kids.
(But 1st: How can a guy who reportedly just barely has a girlfriend -- & who apparently has trouble dressing & feeding himself -- possibly have 2 small children? ((On the other hand, look at me....)) Could he B making it all up? 4 his theoretical kids' sake, I almost hope so....)
NEway, children. I have 2 of them -- son Andy, 21; daughter Alicia, 18. My son created my old website 4 me & troubleshot it & worked-out the glitches 4 awhile -- he instructed me 2 write my ass off & get rich & famous. Am still working on that. (At least the getting-rich part. The writing-my-ass-off part is pretty-much handled.)
He's currently driving semi-trucks back&forth across the country (something I always thot it would B cool 2 do, I've always loved road-trips), from Cleveland 2 Compton & back, & recently got stuck in a snowstorm in his hometown, Cheyenne, Wyo.
My daughter is currently in her 1st yr at college, apparently keeping very busy & loving it, & I trust she still reads omnivorously -- possibly including this blog from time 2 time. (Hi, Leesh!)
My X & I had both kids while I was in the Air Force, & as a result they cost me a total of about $30 4 the 2 of them -- a pretty good deal. (Thanx, AF!) But the AF made up 4 it by sending me 2 some fairly Ghodawful places -- & not just Cheyenne, where Andy was born. Alicia was born at Incirlik Air Base in Turkey, & as a result she has dual citizenship -- which means if she ever goes back 2 Turkey (Ghod knows why she would) she'll B immediately dragged in2 the Turkish Army. Probly a fate worse than death....
Butler writes about how the smallest things little kids do can scare U 2 death. There's 2 much truth 2 this. Right after Andy finally learned how 2 walk, we hadta start packing up 4 our move 2 Turkey. The day the movers came, when they took a break 4 lunch they left wide-open the front door of the mobile-home we were living in. B4 we could grab him, Andy RAN 4 that open door & took a dive off the front porch & landed face-1st on the concrete slab at the foot of the stairs, about a 3-foot drop.
I SCREAMED. Luckily, so did Andy. Cyndi my X told me 2 pull myself 2gether: "It's OK," she said. "He's CRYING. If he wasn't crying, THEN U could start freaking out."
She was right. Andy was OK. He had a coupla black eyes 4 awhile & a good-sized gash on his 4head, but he was OK. In fact, he was up & moving around again the next day. & a coupla days later while playing w/ the neighbor kids next door, he fell head-1st in2 a hole.... (These repeated blows 2 the head perhaps Xplain some of his Bhavior in later yrs....)
He spent mosta the next 2 yrs inside R apartment in Turkey cos there really wasn't NEwhere 2 play immediately outside R building. Instead, he spent his time getting potty-trained & learning how 2 talk.
(I don't know how 2 Xplain this w/o it sounding weird, so whatthehell: My X was a pretty good photographer ((even tho I was the guy GETTING PAID 2 take pictures)), & took some -- I PROMISE I'm not making this up -- AWARD-WINNING b&w photos of Andy On The Pot when he was around 2 yrs old. The strategic shadows & grainy photography perfectly evoke the griminess of Turkish life. & then there's Andy's Xpression, which probly won the award: Him staring straight in2 the camera & clearly saying: "Stop pointing that thing at me...." This Xperience probly scarred him 4 life. & I'm probly doing it again by writing about it here, cos I know he reads this stuff. ...He went thru a phase later on when he had 2 investigate the bathrooms everywhere we went: "Dad, do they have a potty here...?" Hi, Andy!)
It took Andy awhile 2 start talking. Intrestingly, in Turkey the lite switches R placed at a diffrent height on the wall than they R in America, & when I picked Andy up he was at Xactly the right height 2 turn the lite switches on&off. Which he liked 2 do 4 HRS. I guess he liked the sounds I made when he turned the lights off: "Off!" "On" didn't intrest him so much, but he loved "Off!" I think it was the 1st real word he ever said after "Dad" & "Mom."
Another scarring Xperience 4 him right after we arrived in Turkey was when a brass Turkish lamp we bought short-circuited & caught fire in the apartment -- there was no damage, but it scared the heck outta me, & Andy was just stunned. 4 awhile, everytime he saw a table lamp he'd point at it & his eyes'd get huge & he'd say "Bzzzzztttt!"
Later Xperiences were not quite so scarring -- emotionally. After we moved back 2 the U.S., Andy fell off his tricycle & hit his head (again) & it took 3 stitches 2 sew him up -- but B4 that the blood POURED out of his 4head. It looked WAY worse than it really was -- even really minor head wounds bleed A LOT.
Slightly later, Andy started spiking 104-degree fevers 4 no known reason, completely outta the blue. During 1 trip 2 the Emergency Room 4 1 of these flash-fevers, the docs Dcided the only way 2 bring his temperature down was 2 immerse him in a tub full of crushed ice.... His screams were INCREDIBLE; they woulda tore yr heart out. Thankfully, I've 4gotten most of that....
These R about all the major crises I remember, tho there were some other, way-minor crises: 4 some reason Andy later developed an aversion 2 chicken.... Right after we moved back 2 Wyoming, 1 nite when my X was cooking spaghetti 4 dinner, Andy came in2 the kitchen & was attracted by the cooking smells, peeked at the boiling noodles & the bubbling spaghetti sauce, squinched-up his nose & said: "Is there chicken in this?"
1 time when some1 came 2 visit, he got very friendly, got very close 2 her on the couch & said: "I like you. You're nice. ... Do you eat chicken at your house?"
...Later he developed an aversion 2 spaghetti sauce -- it made him throw up. Violently. But it turned out 2 B the BRAND of spaghetti sauce that turned his stomach. Long as we didn't use that brand, it was all good....
There have bn a few other crises along the way: Andy ran away/disappeared 1nce 4 awhile, something about stealing trading-cards at school -- he hung-out at the library 4 a few hrs B4 coming home, a trick his father pulled yrs earlier. That didn't keep me from panicking about it.
Parents will tell U that 1nce U've panicked about EVERYTHING w/ the 1st child, 1nce the 2nd child comes along, U tend 2 blow a lotta stuff off. & there's a lotta truth 2 this. By the time we had Alicia, stuff that woulda made us freak-out w/ Andy we sorta took in stride. Leesh 1nce fell off the couch & whacked the back of her head on the coffee table & it took 3 stitches 2 sew up her head, but it was just a normal day at home.
I 1nce saw my X drag Alicia in2 the shower after Leesh got furious about something & wouldn't stop screaming -- & the X ran cold water on her until she calmed down. Which didn't take long.
Since then, there's bn a running joke about how cool my daughter can act while she's seething underneath. She & her brother haven't always liked each other much. He has stomped on her toes & she has punched him in the eye -- & thankfully I wasn't around 4 NE of that. In my darker moments I think no guy better ever cross my daughter -- cos she will slit his throat. & she'll have a pulse of about 6 while she's doing it....
Dspite the crises outlined here, I think I was a pretty good father -- when I was around. I useta walk the kids 2&from school every day, & when we moved 2 Washington & their school was right outside our back door I'd usher the kids out the door & then watch from the 2nd floor of the house as they walked across the school's parking lot & in the school's side door.
Call me paranoid or over-protective if U want. I don't care. I figure my watchfulness mayB made up 4 all the times I was gone on nites & wknds Bcos of my job. There's nothing I wouldn't give 2 have those many nites & wknds back. Take my advice: If yr job is taking away time w/ yr kids -- find a new job.
My divorce took my kids away from me 4 the best part of 10 yrs. I knew they were in good hands, but that doesn't help me feel better about all the things I missed, all the times I wasn't there 4.
I'm proud of my children. I know they're good people, smart, friendly, compassionate, & not as distanced & guarded as I've Bcome in my Old Age. All things considered, they've turned out way better than I Dserve....