It nearly evens out
It’s that time of year: when the traffic gets bad again, finding seats at a restaurant is impossible, and I once more have to slalom my way down the stairs of my apartment building, weaving between used condoms, spilled beer, and puddles of half-digested Ramen noodles spiked with stomach acid.
That’s right: the students are back in town.
It’s not all bad, though.
There was a man outside of one of the dorms, carrying boxes back and forth while his daughter leaned against the car. She was getting hot and tired, and as a result, copping some ‘tude, but her Dad was having none of it:
“If you don’t stop whining, I’m going to strap on a fanny pack and walk all over this town asking people for directions.”
Judging by his mid-calf stark-white socks, I’m guessing he wasn’t kidding.
At one time, hearing this may have caused me to cringe involuntarily on the girl’s behalf, even though I’d chuckle at Dad’s retort. I turn 26 in about a month, and I guess I’ve now reached the cusp where I no longer wince, but instead find myself filing that threat away for future use.
Yes, it’s listed right beneath, “You two stop fighting right now! Don’t make me come back there! Yes, there into that back seat! Where your father and I did it last weekend! Just before we came to pick you up from the movies! In that very spot where you’re sitting! RIGHT. THERE.”
Who says you can’t learn things in a college town, even if you’re not a student?