What is Wrong with People?

Last night, my dad called me around 6:45ish. We talked a little and I asked him how he was.

"Oh, I'm a little despondent."

"Despondent? Why?"

"I just get tired of sittin in this house alone with nothin to do."

"Awesome." This was perfect! I needed a movie date. "Why don't you come to the movies with me? I don't have anyone to go with."

"I don't know, I should stay home." Typical. He'll call and complain but what he really wants is for me to come over there and watch TV with him.

"Come on Dad, I don't want to go alone." This was true.

"Well, what show?" Success! He's in.

"Mission Impossible III."

"That new Tom Cruise flick?"

"Yeah."

We nail down the particulars. I'm out the door in 5 minutes and we're on our way to Counciltucky shortly thereafter.

2:06 later, the movie's over and it was awesome. I don't care how crazy Tom Cruise was or is or whatever, but he's still hot and a good actor. One thing that I thought was creepy is how much his wife in the movie looked like Katie Holmes.

Dad walks outside while I stop at the ladies' room. All that pop, ugh.

I'm walking outside and I hear someone utter what sounds like a moo. What the f*ck?

I turn around and there's three young men, all snickering. I know what's happened here.

These dateless losers have decided to pick on me because I’m overweight and am unaccompanied. Somehow, it makes them feel better about their existence on this planet.

They follow me out the door, not because they're stalking the hapless fat waddler, but because they just happen to be leaving too. They're still snickering and whatnot. Probably planning to make one last crack, but once I sidle up to my dad, they die down.

In the car, I told my 74 year old dad with bad rotator cuffs, who's afraid of falling, what happened. And my dad then reminds me why he's my favorite parent.

"They're just lucky I wasn't there."

"I know Dad." Yup, that's my Dad, the Korean War-era Marine.

Later on, I forget about this idyllic moment of paternal love when we stop at a gas station at his behest, ostensibly because he needs to use the facilities. And then I see him purchasing about fifth of gin, or perhaps it was vodka. This is why I can't give up my guardianship of him just yet…because he is bound to drink himself into another stroke. He's working on it now, though he drinks less. But he's not a dry dunk; he's a damp one.

The OA person whom I am on the phone with, relating my horrific experience with the jackas*es at the movie theatre makes a hasty exist as I start to upbraid Dad about the liquor.

"Got your liquor too, huh?"

"Yep."

"Great. Well at least the guardianship is still in place for the next time you drink yourself into a stroke."

Dad starts to defend himself. I just cut him off, telling him he doesn't need to, I understand and he's a grown man, and doesn't need to justify anything to me. I tell him I still love him. It's true. Despite all the things that he's done or failed to do, I still love my dad.