Swerve-Worthy

On the first day of school, my 3 and I celebrated the fact that we were NOT there with a midday run to Sonic, among other shenanigans. Douglas and I shared a moment here between deep-fried car-hopped goodness before he headed to UC Santa Barbara. We all agree a road trip to CA will assuage the void in SWMO. A chunk of our hearts is now most assuredly on the west coast.

Hannah noted that having Nance in the back seat was a novelty, along with the fact that we aren't in my Buick or on a god-forsaken school bus.

Her comment took me back to one of our last treks together: we were headed back to Springtown from a tourney in St. Louis in the middle of the night. The rest

Of the squad was on a bus and I was driving this crew and a few others who were competing late in the day. Doug was in the back. That's important to remember.

It's also important to note that Doug has long characterized himself as a white man trapped in a black man's body. Doug's mama is white, his dad is African-American, and Doug wears a lot of pastels. He is his own man. Or whatever.

Anyhoo, on this particular night I was sleep deprived and punchy and the car load of geniuses was making me laugh. I was not concentrating as I should have been, and apparently the Buick was not staying between the lines.

We were pulled over.

The officer was kind, and I explained my plight, surrounded by these fresh faced adolescents in suits. He didn't ask for my license, he just took a long look at my crew and encouraged me to pay less attention to them and more to the white lines between which my Enclave should steer. I assured him I would do just that.

As we re-entered the highway, I was accused of flirting my way out of a ticket. With a sizable eye roll I guaranteed my accusers that my chest--which resembles that of a ten year old boy--played no role in my escape from the citation. It was then, as a mystified hush fell after our brush with the law, that the always observant Chase offered this:

"I think it's strange that he didn't say anything about the black kid sitting in the back." 

You may not find that funny. You may even find it racist. You may question my professional behavior by making disparaging comments about my own physique or driving erratically with a bunch of students in the car. But at 1am, we all thought the black kid in the back seat flying under the radar was hysterical.

And that's the thing. We were there. And to us, it will always be swerve-worthy funny.

To my Chase, my Hannah, and my Doug: it may be awhile before we get the band back together. But when we do, supper's on me.