Saturday, October 25, 2014

A hilarious story about my dad

This is a hilarious story about my dad that I need to put here for safe keeping.

Like a week ago, my mom came home from Africa (still jealous over here) and so my dad and I planned to go pick her up from the airport. Actually I wanted to make her walk home in case of Ebola but then my dad said that was mean and made me in fact pick her up. And so I did. But before I picked her up, my dad needed to stop at his office.

I need to take a pause here and briefly mention that I've lived here my whole life. I've been driving for ten-years and I manage to get around this place without a GPS like 99.9 percent of the time. I have been to the airport a million times. Which is where we were headed. I've been to my dad's office a million times. Like, this isn't LA, ya'll.

So. We got in the car and my dad immediately says to me, "Go to 13th and take a right and then go all the way to Lewis." YA'LL MY DAD STARTED GIVING ME DIRECTIONS RIGHT OFF THE BAT. I should have just said, "Thanks, guy. This isn't my first rodeo." But I didn't because I was trying to be a less-sassy daughter that day and I figured when I made it safely to Lewis he would just be like, "She got this." But no. That is actually not what happened.

What happened is, I did make it to Lewis. And then he said, "Take a right on 12th. It's the one right after that streetlight." And on and on and on until we were like in the middle of residential hell and every other street was a dead end and I basically had traced a stair pattern with my car and a trip that should have taken like 10-minutes was turning into a Sunday drive.

This is the best part of the story so pay attention: My dad's office is on the outskirts of town, past the interstate. So to get to his office using my dad's backwards route you have to go over the overpass and through several lights. I was stopping at a red light and this was our exchange:

Dad: "You're going to stop at this red light and there are four lights to go through. One, two, three, four. So this one, one after that, another one and then take a right at the last one."
Me, the whole time he's saying this but especially AS HE STARTS COUNTING TO FOUR AT ME: *looking out the window, trying not to die of holding in my laughter.

I'm happy to report that we not only made it to his office (where he actually told me which spot to park in. At eight o'clock at night. You know, a parking lot with like two cars in it and he feels like I need guidance as to which empty spot to park in.) but we also made it safely to the airport. He also said, "Does this car have AM/FM radio?" (We listen to our free Sirius usually.) "Yep, sure does." "Let's find the high school football game cast." My dad is still greatly obsessed with my alma mater. Like, you would probably think he still had a child on the team. He does not. My brother is now in college and has nothing to do with his high school football team. But he made me find the game cast and we listened to it for a good five minutes--five minutes of which I wanted to pull all of my hair out one-by-one because I just cannot with radio sports. My own personal version of hell would be sports on the radio because it is the most annoying. So you can tell that I really appreciated his insistence on listening to the game as he was giving me further directions to the airport and most especially how to use roundabouts. He also got really annoyed when he found out that they were losing and I quote, "Turn this BLEEP off." Except he didn't say "bleep."

That's my dad!

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