Plans Gone Amok

If ever I was going to get a ticket, tonight was probably going to be the night. I had exactly 35 minutes to travel the distance from the town I work in to the town I live in (with a town in between) to pick up Flash at the college he takes a class at on Tuesdays to rush him to the dentist for a cleaning during the very-last-time-slot-we-could-take-without-me-having-to-take-time-off-work.

I was one minute late.

I dropped him at the door and rushed to my bank to have a notary sign the great piece of paper granting me these few hundred dollars only to find the notary? Had already left for the day.

So I headed back to the dentist to wait for Flash to be done with his appointment to find him WAITING IN THE WAITING ROOM. Yes, he's still not in for his appointment. And we sat and chatted for at least ten more minutes before they called him back.

After his cleaning (and the scheduling of one last dental appointment, this time to fix a chipped tooth) we drive past two houses to know if they are worth a look inside (one yes, one no) and fly home. It's Flash's night to cook, but we have a basketball game to get to. And by 'we' I mean, I have a game to DRAG Flash to. He has no interest what-so-evah in a sporting event. I'm dragging him because a) he needs to get out of the house and socialize even if it is just with his mother and b) I'm hoping the jazz band will perform and that would be good for him to hear.

I fix a very fast dinner (although not a long stretch from being healthy) and we run out the door. We arrive at the high school, follow the parking attendants to where we need to park and follow the people we see to the appropriate doors. Only they aren't the right doors, as all of these people are going to a financial seminar.

So we go back out and reevaluate and decide what doors we THINK would be gymnasium doors (although they are not labeled) and realize there is no one going in them at all. So we ask the parking attendant dude. And he has no idea.

And so we begin to realize that despite their marquee sign promoting "Quarterfinal game, Tuesday, March 24th, 7 pm, Tickets $6!" they do not actually mean to imply that they game is THERE. We call my sister who tries to find out for us, but by the time she is able to find no information at all, we are home. (As it turns out, they are playing Rockford which is significant only because it's near where I grew up and the game is held in Lansing, MI.)

So here we are. Home. Hurried, rushed, with ill-feeling stomachs from a very hurried dinner, with broken plans and a complete lack of enthusiasm.

I was really looking forward to that basketball game.

I should note, I grew up going to high school games. My dad was my high school principal but long before I was ever in high school, my family used to attend all the games, plays, activities and events held at the high school. I remember us parking in Dad's spot out front of the school, putting our coats and things in his office; always snitching a butterscotch from his candy jar and heading down the back staircases (where he had to unlock the hallway gates) to the gym. I loved those nights. I loved sitting with my mom in the stands, listening to the band. Later I would play in that band and would enjoy the games with my friends, often attending a dance afterwards. It is strange to me that Flash has never been to such an event, something that was so commonplace in my childhood.