Sunday, August 08, 2010

TS Oldest Son

Late Summer, early Sunday morning. The coffee is brewing after a wake the dead grinding session. It's wonder the rest of the family doesn't push for me to drink tea. The summer mornings are starting to have that September feel to them with a damp chill that evaporates quickly in the summer sun as the morning burns on.

TS Colin is wandering the Atlantic like a petulant teenager.  I love the words used by  NOAA to describe it: disorganized, meandering and "moving slowly". That's a teenager, right? The best is when NOAA announced "...COLIN MOVING LITTLE...HURRICANE HUNTER AIRCRAFT APPROACHING TO INVESTIGATE..." it was like a parent asking "What the hell is he doing up there? don't make me come up there".
On Thursday night TS "Oldest son" blew into town. I sent my hunter aircraft out via text to find out his plans. Yes he was in town, yes he was staying the night, yes... and then an expletive came out of his mouth along with "You shut the car off?, why did you do that?" then there was jostling and background noise.

The person he had gotten a ride from had car troubles of some kind and now he was asking if I could play the role of AAA because they had a dead battery at the local Wawa. Then he said "Ohh we can just push it and start it that way?" and the line went dead.

This happens a lot with oldest son. The template is:
1. We get a call explaining some dire emergency.
2. He is interrupted during the call with an ambiguous alternative solution.
3. He calls us back asking where are we and are we coming.

We were up to step 3.

I called him back after 20 minutes and sure enough he was sitting at the Wawa expecting a jump.

He was home on this Thursday to pick up his girlfriend from JFK airport at 5 AM Friday with her car. It's about 100 miles to JFK from Mount La-La and he was planning to run a few things to his apartment in Newark first so a 1:30 AM wake up was planned.

I awoke at 3:45 AM to expletives and the front storm door slamming shut. We ran down to see what was going on and found him throwing carpets (and the trip to Newark) out of the car while we watched in our underwear from the porch.

I'm sure there is a Bruce Springsteen song in there somewhere with slamming storm doors, carpets flying, parents in night clothes on porch and the cool before dawn. Somehow, I had awoken to be the Parent in some twisted version of Thunder Road.

We tried to get him settled because this was a recipe for disaster: angry and fast driving for 2 hours.

After a few minutes, he was OK and asking what gas stations were open now while I was thinking what a waste of time Boy Scouts was.

Finally he was off and we never heard from him through official sanctioned channels again until he showed back up Saturday with girlfriend to sit by the pool. Fortunately he told the "twitterverse" that he made it to JFK by 5:30 AM. I did the math in my head and that worked out to 60 MPH average. I recalled that the NJ Turnpike is patrolled by officers Stevie Wonder and Ray Charles at that time of day but still realized that it meant he was driving like a mad man.  Like I didn't have enough to worry about. 

I've also started using foursquare where I learned that he was at a diner later that Friday. I'm not a father, I'm the freaking FBI.

His brother started working as a lifeguard this week and last night made his first "save". A youngest had fallen between lily pads at the waterpark where he is working. He did everything right but as he is telling me the story, the I'm thinking the kid is a plant of some kind because I found out his friend rescued the same kid later that night.

Coffee is done.

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