Bookie's Most Outrageous Moments #5
This is a continuation of a series of posts I started in the Spring of 2004 entitled The Most Outrageous Bookie Moments.
As I entered high school, my brother entered college. Since the school he chose was 500 miles away, my parents arranged for me to stay at a friend's house so they could settle him in and bid him a proper farewell as he begins a new stage in his life.
Meanwhile, my friend's parents allowed us to sleep in a tent in his backyard which was less than a mile from my house. Being the fearless and horny fifteen-year-olds that we were, we had made arrangements to pick up my girlfriend and her two friends. They were a year or two younger than we were. In order to pull this off we had to sneak out of his yard (not that difficult), trek a little less than a mile to my house, and drive my parents' car roughly fifteen miles one way to pick up the girls to bring them back to my house. It was quite the adventure. The mix of fear, adrenaline, and salacious anticipation triggered a boost in testosterone that instantly thickened the patches of hair in my underarms.
Even though I was several months away from being eligible to take a driver's ed course, I was a skilled driver and successfully managed to make a thirty mile trip to pick up some honeys. When we got back into town, for some reason we stopped at a parking lot about a block from my house and turned the headlights of so as to not draw attention to five early-teenagers driving illegally at one o'clock in the morning. We decided to circle the block and drive past my house to make sure nothing unusual was afoot. As I turned the corner past my house, red and blue flashing lights appeared in my rearview mirror and strobed onto the houses and trees around me like a discotheque. I had forgotten to turn my headlights back on which had attracted the attention of the local fuzz.
Immediately, the worst-case scenario was playing out in my mind which involved not being able to get my driver's license until I was eighteen years old which, in all probability, would be about two months after I would be able to walk again after my dad got his hands on me. My highschool years would mirror my junior high years with me riding my bicycle to school and my parents driving me to the mall to hang out with my friends. In my panic, I began to offer up prayers of forgiveness and mercy.
Fortunately, the police officer who had pulled me over was a good friend of my dad and my uncles and was sympathetic to the plight of the horny, reckless teenager. His words to me were, "I know the punishment your dad will deliver will be worse than what we would do so I'm just going to let him take care of it." Since my parents were out of town, he called my uncle and woke him up out of bed to return me and my posse to our respective homes.
When he showed up he was surprising not upset at my tomfoolery and having to get out of bed to bail me out. As he drove us home, my uncle, who could identify with my predicament, informed me that he was going to let me off the hook. Needless to say, we could now add excitement and relief to the roster of emotions we've experienced over the last few hours.
A day or two later, my friend's parents took us to Cedar Point, the roller coaster capital of the world, where we rode roller coasters, flirted with girls, and basked in our escape. It was a day of merriment and glee. We may have even skipped and clicked our heals a few times.
The scene and mood quickly changed when I was dropped off at home. It was as if a dark thundercloud had suddenly appeared and blocked out the sun. My parents had returned from their trip and greeted me with scouls on their faces and sharp words on their lips. My dad's eyes turned red and smoke rose from his ears. The party was over and I was going to be served a hefty helping of my dad's wrath. The policeman who had pulled me over had some business to do in my dad's car parts store earlier that day. He struck up a conversation with my dad and asked, "You weren't too hard on your boy, were you?" Since my uncle was going to keep quiet about the situation, my dad was completely in the dark about his question. He got the whole story while I was enjoying the day at America's Roller Coast. My punishment was pretty light compared to what it could have been. I was grounded for a month but probably the worst part has been my parents not letting me forget that incident for the past sixteen years.
As I entered high school, my brother entered college. Since the school he chose was 500 miles away, my parents arranged for me to stay at a friend's house so they could settle him in and bid him a proper farewell as he begins a new stage in his life.
Meanwhile, my friend's parents allowed us to sleep in a tent in his backyard which was less than a mile from my house. Being the fearless and horny fifteen-year-olds that we were, we had made arrangements to pick up my girlfriend and her two friends. They were a year or two younger than we were. In order to pull this off we had to sneak out of his yard (not that difficult), trek a little less than a mile to my house, and drive my parents' car roughly fifteen miles one way to pick up the girls to bring them back to my house. It was quite the adventure. The mix of fear, adrenaline, and salacious anticipation triggered a boost in testosterone that instantly thickened the patches of hair in my underarms.
Even though I was several months away from being eligible to take a driver's ed course, I was a skilled driver and successfully managed to make a thirty mile trip to pick up some honeys. When we got back into town, for some reason we stopped at a parking lot about a block from my house and turned the headlights of so as to not draw attention to five early-teenagers driving illegally at one o'clock in the morning. We decided to circle the block and drive past my house to make sure nothing unusual was afoot. As I turned the corner past my house, red and blue flashing lights appeared in my rearview mirror and strobed onto the houses and trees around me like a discotheque. I had forgotten to turn my headlights back on which had attracted the attention of the local fuzz.
Immediately, the worst-case scenario was playing out in my mind which involved not being able to get my driver's license until I was eighteen years old which, in all probability, would be about two months after I would be able to walk again after my dad got his hands on me. My highschool years would mirror my junior high years with me riding my bicycle to school and my parents driving me to the mall to hang out with my friends. In my panic, I began to offer up prayers of forgiveness and mercy.
Fortunately, the police officer who had pulled me over was a good friend of my dad and my uncles and was sympathetic to the plight of the horny, reckless teenager. His words to me were, "I know the punishment your dad will deliver will be worse than what we would do so I'm just going to let him take care of it." Since my parents were out of town, he called my uncle and woke him up out of bed to return me and my posse to our respective homes.
When he showed up he was surprising not upset at my tomfoolery and having to get out of bed to bail me out. As he drove us home, my uncle, who could identify with my predicament, informed me that he was going to let me off the hook. Needless to say, we could now add excitement and relief to the roster of emotions we've experienced over the last few hours.
A day or two later, my friend's parents took us to Cedar Point, the roller coaster capital of the world, where we rode roller coasters, flirted with girls, and basked in our escape. It was a day of merriment and glee. We may have even skipped and clicked our heals a few times.
The scene and mood quickly changed when I was dropped off at home. It was as if a dark thundercloud had suddenly appeared and blocked out the sun. My parents had returned from their trip and greeted me with scouls on their faces and sharp words on their lips. My dad's eyes turned red and smoke rose from his ears. The party was over and I was going to be served a hefty helping of my dad's wrath. The policeman who had pulled me over had some business to do in my dad's car parts store earlier that day. He struck up a conversation with my dad and asked, "You weren't too hard on your boy, were you?" Since my uncle was going to keep quiet about the situation, my dad was completely in the dark about his question. He got the whole story while I was enjoying the day at America's Roller Coast. My punishment was pretty light compared to what it could have been. I was grounded for a month but probably the worst part has been my parents not letting me forget that incident for the past sixteen years.
posted by Matt Book at
12:45 PM
0 Comments:
Post a Comment
<< Home