"Ahh, Look At All the Boats!"
My first trip over the Golden Gate Bridge in San Francisco was memorable for a couple of reasons.
Let me set the scene:
Dad had been living in California for a few weeks. Mom and I left Buffalo just two weeks after I finished my senior year in high school. On the flight out, we drank pretty good. A ton of laughs between mother and son as we sat in first class sipping champagne, and downed a few during our layover in Chicago.
Dad was a tad aggravated when he picked us up at the airport, but we loaded the car with our luggage. Mom was visitng for a week. I would be staying on indefinitely.
With every turn of the head we took in a golden vision. The entire city should be on a postcard. We headed for the bridge in the Ford Galaxy, a huge car with a wide backseat. I was in the center of the backseat with Dad driving and Mom in the passenger seat. We started the drive across the bridge, I took a peek at Alcatraz.
Mom lowered her window and tossed her cigarette.
Into the backseat.
I was dancing around as the lit cigarette started some of the papers on the floor on fire. Mom was yelling...at me...Dad was swearing. I was stomping the flames.
I missed the whole trip over the bridge.
We were nearly on the other side. The excitement had died down. We were both a little pissed at Mom. Silence took hold.
"Ahh, Look at all the boats!" Mom yelled out, effectively scaring the living shit out of Dad.
I tell that story because last night, at about 3:30 a.m. I woke up laughing.
You see, I lived in California for eight months during that trip. Each day, Dad drove me across the bridge to work. He also took us back at the end of the work day.
Every single day, for those 8 months, he would shout it out:
"Ahh, look at all the boats!"
This week is Dad's birthday. Some may say that he isn't here.
I beg to differ.
He made me laugh at 3:30 in the morning.
Happy Birthday, Dad.
Let me set the scene:
Dad had been living in California for a few weeks. Mom and I left Buffalo just two weeks after I finished my senior year in high school. On the flight out, we drank pretty good. A ton of laughs between mother and son as we sat in first class sipping champagne, and downed a few during our layover in Chicago.
Dad was a tad aggravated when he picked us up at the airport, but we loaded the car with our luggage. Mom was visitng for a week. I would be staying on indefinitely.
With every turn of the head we took in a golden vision. The entire city should be on a postcard. We headed for the bridge in the Ford Galaxy, a huge car with a wide backseat. I was in the center of the backseat with Dad driving and Mom in the passenger seat. We started the drive across the bridge, I took a peek at Alcatraz.
Mom lowered her window and tossed her cigarette.
Into the backseat.
I was dancing around as the lit cigarette started some of the papers on the floor on fire. Mom was yelling...at me...Dad was swearing. I was stomping the flames.
I missed the whole trip over the bridge.
We were nearly on the other side. The excitement had died down. We were both a little pissed at Mom. Silence took hold.
"Ahh, Look at all the boats!" Mom yelled out, effectively scaring the living shit out of Dad.
I tell that story because last night, at about 3:30 a.m. I woke up laughing.
You see, I lived in California for eight months during that trip. Each day, Dad drove me across the bridge to work. He also took us back at the end of the work day.
Every single day, for those 8 months, he would shout it out:
"Ahh, look at all the boats!"
This week is Dad's birthday. Some may say that he isn't here.
I beg to differ.
He made me laugh at 3:30 in the morning.
Happy Birthday, Dad.
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