I was upset Friday night, when I first stepped into the house. That place just smacks of my mom and all the crap she liked. I don�t know how my dad does it every day.
Saturday, though, I embraced my inner hick. My dad has this friend, Orla. They�re quite the unlikely duo. Dad�s a 50-year-old clean-shaven executive whose hobbies include acting, cooking, and worshipping the Pittsburgh Steelers. Orla�s a 70-year-old farmer whose daily activities include shaving the hair off of sheep, planting squash, and wearing suspenders. Dad and Orla met because Dad likes to buy Orla�s corn.
They�ve become really, really close friends. Orla�s first wife died of cancer, so Dad has really leaned on him. I�m glad they have each other.
Dad and I went to Orla�s farm to ride around on four-wheelers. I�d never really done that before, but I think I have quite the flair for it. I went through this creek and straight up the practically vertical bank on my first try. Dad wouldn�t even ride it with me � he got off the back.
It was beautiful. I saw cows and sheep, hills and woods. The leaves were changing, and it was cool but not cold. Last weekend was the perfect time to visit Ohio. I got to experience autumn without getting frostbite.
Next was the insufferably boring Ohio State game at the Elks. My dad and sister are both Elks. In fact, Mollie became one first. She�s some sort of big poombah officer, and she gets terrified each time she�s required to do public speaking. After the game, Dad took Mollie and me out to dinner (Carrie is away at school), and then we met up with some other Elks and barhopped. Things got a little out of hand, and the next thing I knew, I was waking up at 8 a.m. after 3 hours of sleep so I didn�t miss my 10 a.m. flight.
My 10 a.m. flight missed me. The fuckwads whose job it is to fuel up the plane put too much in one wing, then were unable to rectify. Instead of a stop in Chicago, I was making a stop in St. Louis. As soon as I got there, I decided to call Shawn.
Me: �Hey, guess where I am?�
Shawn: �Miami?�
Me: �No.�
Shawn: �Columbus?�
Me: �Nope.�
Shawn: �Chicago?�
Me: �Nope.�
Shawn: �Where the hell ARE you?�
Me: �Missouri.�
Shawn: �What the hell are you doing in MISSOURI?�
Me: �I had the craziest urge to see the St. Louis Arch.�
Shawn: �Shut up.�
I told her what really happened. And I arrived in Miami only two hours late, which is a really mild side effect of a cancelled flight.
It was a good trip, but too short.
