by David Harrison
I was interrupted by a loud pounding on my apartment door.
“Go away!”, I yelled.
It didn’t go away.
I sighed as I got up from poring over the morning’s lecture notes to see which of my drunken friends had decided to pay me an unannounced visit. I opened the door as I pondered about what expletive would be most effective in removing my guest: “asshole”, “douchebag”…
“Dad?”
There he stood, or at least swayed slightly.
“Dad! What are you doing-“
”Jack!”, he shouted. The alcohol on his breath nearly singed my eyelashes.
“How many times do I have to tell you, Dad, that’s not my name…”
“Jack!” He was in one of his particularly persistent moods. The confusion on my face must have been obvious because he clarified, “Jack… do you have any?” I still wasn’t getting it. “Whiskey!” he added with a roll of his eyes.
“Oh… no, sorry,” I replied. He turned and left without a word.
I followed him out into the hall to find him already knocking on my neighbor’s door.
“Whoa, slow down, you can’t do this,” I pleaded.
“Why not?”
The door opened.
“Jack!” my dad shouted into the sleepy face of my neighbor, Will.
“Dad, I don’t have time for this. I have a final tomorrow.”
Will mumbled, “Wha- what’s going on here?”
My phone rang. “Hello?”
“Hi…” It was my mom.
“What the hell did you do to dad?” I demanded.
“Oh, he must’ve found you.”
I walked down the hall so I could hear the phone better, nervously leaving behind the sounds of pounding on doors and I could faintly make out a cry of “Doesn’t anyone here have some goddamn whiskey? I thought this was college!”
I listened to my mom on the phone as she asked politely, “Do you mind babysitting your father for a while?”. I didn’t respond. Somehow she must have seen the furious look on my face because she continued to explain herself. “My sisters just flew into town…”
That’s all she needed to say. Immediately a wave of sympathy for my poor dad swept over me. Apparently, as usual custom in my family, my mom’s sisters decided to pay an unannounced visit to our house on this particular weekend. And, as usual custom, my dad proceeded to get roaring drunk in order to cope with the estrogen-fueled wake of destruction towards all things male that inevitably follows my aunts. My father and I are the only two men in our family; he was an only child. On the other hand, my mother’s side of the family consists of her and four sisters. None of them individually are bad people, but they are from the conservative south which gives them a sense of entitlement to criticize any man who doesn’t wear a cowboy hat, beat his children and eat his steak so rare that it is still mooing. Not to mention, they claim to have found genetic evidence proving that George W. Bush is a direct descendent of Jesus Christ. My dad is a teacher, a democrat, a Jew and an admitted former hippie. He spends more time at the beach than any of my friends. At times I begin to wonder where all of our family’s money comes from, because he literally has no job besides guest lecturing twice a week at the local college. My aunts say his job is being Jewish (which always results in unexplainable wealth, they add). He is the fuse to their dynamite.
The phone call continued as my mom explained how she literally threw my dad out of the moving car onto the front lawn of my apartment complex as she was on her way to the nearby airport to pick up the wrecking crew. Her original intentions were to make peace between the two factions by forcing everyone to go out to dinner together that night (apparently, I was supposed to be included in this as well). She thwarted several of my dad’s attempts to sneak out of the house until he finally realized the futility in his efforts and instead decided to get so drunk that he wouldn’t even make it to the dinner. That plan was a success. But my mom was adamant in salvaging the night so she offered me a new laptop if I could somehow get my dad to the restaurant. For a laptop, I figured my dad could deal with one night of suffering. Just then, I heard the growing roar of what sounded like a chant.
“What is that noise?”, my mom said.
I looked into the hall where I left my dad to find him surrounded by about fifty people. It looked like trouble so I sprinted towards the crowd as fast as I could. The chant grew louder: “Twenty-seven! Twenty-eight! Twenty-nine!”. I pushed everyone out of the way to find my dad suspended upside down, hands gripping firmly to the sides of a keg, with the tap in his mouth.
“Dude! Your dad is the best!”, shouted one of my neighbors.
“Is he divor- I mean, single?”, asked one of the girls.
“Ew! No!” I shuddered, just as the kids supporting my dad put him down after a thirty-five second keg stand.
“That’s how you pussies do it!”, my dad shouted, “Who’s next?”. One of the bigger guys stepped forward, accepting the challenge.
“What’s going on in there? Did your father just call me a pussy!” Shit! I forgot to hang up the phone.
“Don’t worry, Mom, we’ll be there,” I assured her before I hung up. “Dad, we need to go. Now.”
The crowed booed me as he surprisingly complied. We got into the car and he immediately fell asleep. During the first silence of the night, I began to think whether I was selling my dad out for my own benefit. I forced those thoughts aside and we pulled into the restaurant. My dad wouldn’t move. I nudged him and he mumbled something about frogs, but still no movement. I had come too far to go back now, though. I put some sunglasses on him, lifted his arm over my shoulder, and carried him into the restaurant. I took a moment to collect myself before we found our table.
“Howdy, ladies,” I said to my four aunts, my mom, and my nine year-old sister, Rebecca.
“You need to cut your hair, you look too shaggy,” Aunt Carol said to me.
“Nice to see you too,” I said as I carefully set my dad down into the chair between my sister and me, across from my aunts. It felt like a board meeting and I was about to be fired.
“What are you doing wearing sunglasses inside?”, Aunt Debbie demanded of my unconscious father. He began to snore. I kicked him under the table and he stopped.
I intervened: “That’s what we do in California. It’s the new style.” Then, I leaned in towards my sister and whispered, “I need your help. They like you best. Can you try and keep them from talking to Dad?”. She nodded.
“Hey, everybody! Guess what I did today?”, she began. “Mommy got pulled over so she told me to cry and ask the policeman if she was going to jail so I did it and we didn’t get a ticket!”
Stunned silence.
“Wo-ow! What a smart girl!” I said with exaggerated astonishment. Immediately, everybody else followed with their own words of approval. I wasn’t lying, she is a smart girl. The rest of the night continued smoothly as my sister and I carefully steered the conversation away from my sleeping father. Somehow, my aunts were impressed by his “politeness” and they decided as a group that they no longer hate him. I guess it reminded them of their own husbands back in Texas who would rather watch the game than ever speak to them either. Everybody went home in a cheerful mood that night.
Unfortunately, amidst the chaos, I had completely forgotten about my final the next morning. I failed it miserably, and as a result of my poor grades, my mom decided not to buy me a new laptop. Some thanks I get for saving the whole family.
(next read SO LIGHTEN UP …)