Floogin Andretti and The Peeping Tom

I went to my wife's college reunion this weekend.  20 years out of college.  Man she's getting old.  (Mine is next year, I'm a kid).  We took the kids with us for a weekend of fun with the kids during the day and college debauchery at night.  Boy did we over-estimate the fun factor.



We arrived Friday afternoon and settled in to the whole alumni gathering.  I know most of the friends that were there and they all came with spouses and kids so it wasn't a rough weekend for me, other than the last night when I found myself standing in the tent, alone, pondering the largest gathering of dorks ever.  (I didn't go to the MIT wedding with her a month ago) 

It's one thing when the band kicks into that college classic from the all time great Otis Day and the Nights, Shout.  Clearly I'm kidding.  That song was from a movie about a fraternity and the only people I know that go bat shit over it are high school kids who think that the song is a fraternity party staple.  Now I get to add ivy league nerds who have no fucking clue what a party is.  These clowns were dancing and bouncing around and acting like total morons and, to make matters even worse, they didn't even know when to scream "shout" or throw their hands in the air at the proper moments.  It was, at the time, the most embarrassing thing I'd ever seen.

Then the band kicked into Sweet Caroline. 

Now I love me some Neil Diamond.  Who doesn't?  But my Diamond love is a private thing.  These losers were screaming along with the song and all I could think of was a bunch of bar mitzvah kids jamming to a song that they assume is cool.  It was horrifying to witness.

At the very end of the night, some fucking moron decided a conga line was in order.  Go on, laugh.  I'm not kidding.  I'm standing with my wife, who was fairly well plastered (I was sober - only beer and wine at these events) and this conga line comes barrelling past us.  The only saving grace of the whole night was when some decent looking girl, sporting a class of 05 pin, grabbed me and tried to get me to join her in the line.  Now, what my wife didn't know was that this girl was grabbing everyone so it's not like she spotted my handsome mug in the crowd and tried to get me to play with her.  I, of course, didn't say a word about it, letting my wife think her husband was being hit on by a 25 year old.

At some point my wife had to apologize for the embarrassing scene, telling me that the school is far cooler than what I was witnessing. 

I'm not buying it.

The next morning, when the kids woke up, I asked them each their favorite part of the weekend.  My daughter's was the zip line.  She rode a rope over a 100 foot ravine, with a river below her.  Fucking brave.  I wouldn't go near it.  I have an irrational fear, not of heights, but of dropping something.  If I'm on a bridge, looking down over the edge, my hands go to my pockets to make sure nothing falls out.  No way in hell I'd be able to strap myself onto a rope and glide 50 yards out over a fucking river.

My son's answer was fucking hysterical.  He turned 5 on Thursday and seemed to really take to college life.  Both kids spent Saturday afternoon in a "camp" set up to allow the parents to do their own thing.  We lied and said my son was 6 so he could be with his sister and our friends' kids.  The camp took them on a bird watch, outside to play soccer, dinner, arts and crafts and swimming.  (we took them out before bowling and a movie as we had a sitter and didn't want them to stay up as late as the night before).

So, what was young Floogin's favorite part of the weekend?

The hole in the boys' locker room that let them see the girls' locker room.  That's right, my son peeped on the girls getting ready for swimming.  I asked him what he saw and he said "one girl wasn't wearing a shirt, some were in their underwear."

I told him this was wrong, that we don't do that.  I tried to explain the whole invasion of privacy thing and how wrong it was and he said "you should tell Apollo (not his real name)."

Apollo is one of the other kids' dad.  He also went to this school, graduating more than 20 years ago.  The idea that this guy knew the hole was there, showed the kids etc is wrong on so many levels.  The idea that it's still there is fucked up.

My son is going to be one hell of a wild man when he gets to college.  I'm starting a legal fund now.


On the way home I got tagged for speeding.  90 in a 55.  It didn't feel like 90.  As I was getting pulled over, I told my daughter to act like she had diarrhea, act like she was about to crap in her pants.  The cop walks over to the car and before he can ask for the license and registration, I apologize, tell him I know I was speeding, know how fast I was going but my daughter has had a stomach virus for a couple of days now and she woke up shouting that she was about to have another attack and I panicked and floored it.  She's moaning in the back of the car, saying "daddy, I really need to go" and hamming it up perfectly.

The cop then says "ok, here's what you're going to do, you're going to get off at the next exit, make a hard left at the stop sign, a right at the light and there's a (wait for it) Dunkin Donuts on the right side.  Pull in there, your daughter can use the facility and we can take care of the speeding matter."

Motherfucker, I thought I was going to get off.  Instead, the cop sends me to a fucking donut shop.  I'm dying to point out the irony here but I'm already fucked.

I thank him and start to drive away with the cop tailing me.

We get off the highway, pass several restaurants, fast food joints, a diner, an 4 gas stations.  All of them, presumably, have bathrooms.  Seems Mr. Cop wants his donut fix.

My wife suggests buying the guy a donut and I tell her not to.

My daughter is now panicked.  "Is he going to check and make sure I really poop?" 
I explain that he will not do a shit inspection to confirm consistency and immediacy.  She sighs and says "good because I do have to poop but I can't make it diarrhea."

We pull into the parking lot and she bolts into the donut shop, waddling and gripping her stomach like a seasoned actress.

The cop comes over and asks why I didn't get off the exit when he was following me (before he flipped the blinkers on and pulled me over).  I tell him that I knew he tagged me for speeding and, if I hopped off the highway, he might have taken my actions as me trying to flee from him and the last thing I need is a pursuit and an apb on my car simply because my daughter needs to poop.  He says he understands, explains that the speed I was travelling, the distance to the exit etc would have shaved less than 2 seconds off my trip.  I tell him I'm not from around there and had no clue where the next exit was, she woke up shouting and I panicked.  I apologized again and he tells me he'll be right back.

He comes back and before he can say anything I tell him how kind it was of him to allow us to take my daughter to the bathroom.  I tell him it was very decent of him and I say he must have children to be so understanding of a situation, given the speed I was travelling.  Then I quickly add "ok, go ahead, tell me how much this is going to cost me."

The look on his face was what I was hoping for.  He clearly felt like an asshole for giving me the ticket after that. 

End of the day, I received a "disobeyed traffic device" ticket, rather than speeding.  The fine will be between $100 and $150, with a $50 fuck you charge that the state likes to tack on and only 2 points on my license.  It could be much, much worse.  I haven't been pulled over in more than 20 years so, I'm hoping, my insurance won't change to much.

The rest of the trip was a mix of hysterical and horrible.  I drove the rest of the way towards the state line at a snail's pace, fearing he called ahead to see if someone else could nab me.  Of course, the comic aspect of it all provided plenty of laughs as well.

In all, a somewhat enjoyable weekend with lots of misery peppered about to remind me that I'm becoming an old man.