Wednesday, July 12, 2006

Embarrassing Story #2

(See my last post for the first story. You don't have to read these in order.)

This story would be best entitled: The Only Time I Ever Hated My Father.

Setting: 1993, I'm in Middle School, we had just moved to Indiana, so I was "The New Girl". This town was like Beverly Hills. Mercedes and Rolls Royces abound. I kid you not. Ritzy titzy city.

It was a Saturday, and all the kids in my grade were at school for a standardized test. When we are done around noon, all 400 (or so) of us are standing outside near the parking lot, waiting for our parents to pick us up.

Keep in mind that this is 8th grade, probably the most insecure of ages for kids across the nation. We are all SO incredibly self-conscious at this time, are we not? I mean, all I wanted to do was to fit in. Or better yet, be accepted by the "Cool" crowd. But, since I was new, I hadn't even determined exactly who was cool. I was still trying to get used to the freezing weather and fashion differences. (There were no Abercrombie & Fitches or Bebes in my teeny tiny rural Virginia hometown. Actually, there still aren't.)

So I am standing alone, which is ok. I was used to being the new girl by this point in my life. To be honest, my brain was fried from filling in bubbles with a #2 pencil for 4 hours straight. I just wanted to go home.

But where is Mom??? She's taking forever! I mean, most of the kids are already gone, which makes me look like a total loser! So I wait and wait and wait.

Out of nowhere, the hottest guy in our class, Joel, comes up to me and starts talking to me. I think I did one of those double takes, where you are sure the guy is talkingto someone standing behind you, so you turn around, only to realize no one is there. Once I realized he was actually talking to me, I almost fell over. I was so flabbergasted, I couldn't even listen to anything he was saying. I think he said something about going to McDonald's. Just as I was starting to shake myself out of it and say something, my ride showed up.

It was my Dad, not my Mom, picking me up.



He was driving his truck. His big, beat up, dirty, old Ford truck. Which smells like a combination of wet dog and cigars. (Keep in mind, this is back in the day before cigars were cool.) This vehicle is in stark contrast against all the pristine Lexuses already in the parking lot.

He comes in the exit, and was the only parent to do so. Everyone was looking, wondering who this guy is and why he can't read signs. "Oh. That's my ride," I mumbled.

"Is that your dad?" Hot Joel asked.

"Yeah," I replied. (I could be wrong, but this may have been the last conversation I ever had with Hot Joel.)

Did I mention that Dad's windows are down? And it's about 40 degrees outside? It is important that his windows are down so that he can not only smoke his stogie, but also so that our big, stinky dog can stick her slobbery head out the window and so that Dad can blare his bluegrass music at an adequate volume.

Other parents have lap dogs and Top 40 stations in their cars. With the windows up, since they are both non-smokers and cold.

It looks like Pa Clampett is here to pick me up.

Now, I love my big stinky, slobbery dog. I even like bluegrass music. But not when I'm 13. At that age, I don't admit to liking any of this. I cannot believe this is happening. And in front of about 150 of my school mates. One of whom is standing right next to me, looking quite yummy. The same one who will never speak to me again.

Instead of taking the time to look for me and pull up discreetly by the curb, Pa parks his truck in the smack dab middle of this huge parking lot. He gets out of the truck. He hasn't showered or shaved yet. He is wearing the same clothes he wore the two previous days. And probably the same underwear. He is holding a big, fat stogie in one hand and a beer in the other. Then, he starts yelling.

"VB! VB?!"

"Yeah..." I reply, forced to yell my response.

"Hey! Get in! You're gonna have to sit in the middle, though, so the dog can stick her head out!"

I walked out into the dead center of the parking lot, in front of everyone. If I'm not mistaken, there were some stares and snickering going on. I think you could have heard a pin drop amongst the Gap and Limited-clad audience. I didn't wave or look at anyone. I just wanted to disappear. The fastest way to do that was to get in the truck so he would get in and shut up.

"Hurry up! It's time for lunch!" he yelled, still standing in the middle of the parking lot.

I climbed into the center of the bench seat, with stinky Mingo on one side and Jed Clampett on the other. He asked if I wanted to listen to his music or mine. I told him I didn't care, because my social life was over anyway. He shrugged, took a sip of his beer and turned his bluegrass back up. Mingo kept stepping on my lap and wagging her tail in my face. Mingo weighed about 50 pounds. And there was no place for her to go. I reeked of cigars and dog by the time I got home.

Once I got there, I told Czarina everything. She chewed him a new one and he was never allowed to pick any of us up again.

For those 30 or so minutes, I hated my father. But that is the only time. Ever. And who cares what stupid Hot Joel thought anyway? He got busted for pot or underage drinking before graduation. I can't remember which. I bet he was embarrassed.


jennster said...

LMFAO- my favorite part is that you had to sit in the middle so stinky dog could put his head out of the window.. LMFAO! hahaha

Miss Fire said...

Oh dear God.....

The Dummy said...

OMG, I don't know if I could ever forgive my parents if they did that. EVER.

But the important part is - we KNOW you're a cool gal. And none of that stuff in the past matters now.

Vixen said...

I've only hated my father once. And it was more than 30 minutes. Maybe I'll go into that story one day.

Anne said...

Oh this post was laugh out loud funny!

There were so many times that my parents embarassed me. I remember being embarassed because my dad put up Christmas lights one year and I guess I decided that it was childish so I wouldnt let him turn them on when the school bus came by. How silly is that?

Its all so tramatic when you are that age.

Good post VB! And about that exchanging numbers...we should totally do that!

M said...


I spent my last three years of high school at a snooty Catholic school in northern Indianapolis so I know exactly what you mean when you talk about the rich and snobby.

Fuck them if they don't like a cigar smoking, beer drinking, driving in the exit Dad!

Besides, your dad asked you what music you would like to listen to on the way home. So, obviously, his heart was in the right place.

charming, but single said...

My Dad used to answer the phone "Fred's Funeral Parlor, you stab 'em, we slab 'em."

So, you know, I feel your pain. ;P

teahouse said...

Hahahaha..great story..your dad sounds pretty cute, actually. But I can't even tell you how many times my mom embarrassed me when I was a teenager. But more importantly, continues to embarrass me!

Red said...

My dad was the master of "get my gun," only most of the time that was followed by MY doing everything but field stripping it. He wanted to make sure that every guy I came across not only knew that he owned guns, but that I was quite capable with them myself. So much for letting the guy feel the need to "protect" me.

Parents.. I can't wait to hear my daughters' most embarassing moments twenty or so years from now.

sassafras said...

OMG! I definitely would have died. I aggree with red, I look forward to embarassing my kids!

Jonathan said...

VB - One of the funniest things I have read in a while. I dont know why I keep seeing the end of The Breakfast Club with all them getting into their parent's cars as I read this. :)

Gypsy said...

Hee!!! Great story. Sounds like my dad. Parents are so embarrassing. My dad once dropped me off at school in his black El Camino. I was appalled, but all my guy friends thought it was the coolest. Go figure.

Virginia Belle said...

ster-- yeah, as if it couldn't get any more humiliating.

DD--aw, shucks. *blushes*

Vixen--you kill me.

anne--glad you liked it! how funny that you were anti-Xmas lights?!

M--ha! glad you liked it. we need to talk--the north side of indy is where this happened....small world.

charming-- ooh, that's bad. i was spared by that because my mom worked at home.

THB--yeah, he was pretty cute. i miss him!

red--ok, that's just awesome. my dad actually opened up the front door once, to greet my date with a gun in his hand. literally. i don't think dad liked him much...

sassafras--but don't you see how it scars them??

jonathan-- hey, i aim to please. and yes, i also sort of picture the breakfast club, now that you mention it. crap. i keep forgetting to stop by your blog...

gypsy-- that's funny! you never know at that age what is going to be considered cool and what isn't. so you just sort of clamp down on anything that's potentially borderline. ah, kids.

Sam said...

Dude. OMG. I can totally empathize.

NML said...

I can totally relate to this tale. My dad used to show me up when he came to pick me up from the disco...