"What's a proletariat," I shouted over to Mrs. White, school librarian and all-around cool person. Without missing a beat, she provided the definition: "Rooted in the Marxist belief system, proletarians comprised the blue collar labor force."
"Tonight I might just lose my way"
"Stay in this lane," Savannah directed as I clutched the steering wheel of our van in a death grip, hunched over and squinting intently. "Or don't," she sighed as I inched my way over into bumper-to-bumper 7 o'clock-on-a-Monday-night traffic.
"Tell our friends, 'go ahead', 'cause we're hanging back"
Along with Savannah and Mrs. White, my posse also consisted of my two teen-aged nieces from Alaska. Naturally, I was desperate to impress them with my level of coolness. My rating must have sky-rocketed when we entered the club ("Is this a club," I asked doubtfully, looking around. "I don't see a popcorn machine or even a rotisserie hot dog ferris wheel.") when Mrs. White and I were immediately swamped by adoring fans. A group of my former 6th graders, now in high school, were also in attendance. Unlike my group of wall-huggers, they were planted stage-side, doing that nifty over-the-head fist pump. Unfortunately, I was still undergoing physical therapy for my bout of "Monkey Arm" so that really limited my range of motion (see picture).
Overall, I really think I impressed my nieces. I don't think they noticed when the bikini-topped, tattoo-covered bartender mocked me out for ordering water (which I guarded diligently all night so I wouldn't get "roofied") or that, Mrs. White, starving to death, ordered a club soda half-filled with lime and lemon eighths ("No scurvy for me," Mrs. White yelled cheerfully).
A photographing company had sent representatives to take candids of the event. I watched in admiration as my nieces struck a casually cool pose. I waited with impatience for the representative to finally get to me. Mrs. White, a reluctant Savannah and I enthusiastically captured this timeless moment. When I scoured the company's Facebook listings later, I quickly found my nieces but for some reason, the shot of my little entourage hadn't been included. "They probably didn't want everyone else to feel bad because our picture was so incredible," Savannah explained. Fortunately, Mrs. White had taken a picture of me with her Smartphone. Doing the old-school "Raise the Roof" move, I smiled for the shot...not anticipating the dizzying array of delay lights that preceded the actual picture. Blinded, my "Raise the Roof" turned more into "Whack the Wall." But it's still cool...right?
"It's the week-end
It's the week-end"
"But it's NOT the weekend," I'd pointed out (somewhat necessarily). Okay...maybe not all that cool.
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