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Sunday, June 20, 2010

Fathers Day

I physically had to pull my eyelids down to close them. The glow of my cell phone showed one o’clock in the morning. I didn’t know it was possible to feel your eyelids scratch against the cornea when you were sleep deprived.

The campers next to us carried on with their party. The bass from the music shook our trailer windows. My little four-year-old pulled a pillow over her ears to block out the sound.

“I can’t take it anymore!” I sat up in my sleeping bag. “Earplugs don’t even block out the noise.”

“I know,” said my husband and rubbed my back. “Last night they didn’t shut off the music until four am.”

I flopped myself back down and whimpered.

“Mommy,” cried my little girl. “I can’t sleep.”

“That’s it!” My dad threw his covers off and stomped down the stairs from the fifth wheel’s bedroom. There was no light in the trailer but I swear I saw flames coming from his nostrils. He swung open the door, stuck out his head and all Hell broke loose.

“TURN THAT *Cussing* MUSIC DOWN!” My dad’s voice echoed across Glendale Lake and back.

I held my breath, waiting for the retaliation of the neighboring campers. The old school rap music quieted down.

“What?” confused voices asked back.

“TURN YOUR *cussing* MUSIC DOWN. WE ARE TRYING TO SLEEP.”

“If you don’t like it and don’t want to listen to it go to bed,” a man said back.

I knew that was the wrong thing to say and waited for my dad’s response.

“WE CAN’T. YOUR MUSIC IS KEEPING EVERYONE AWAKE. TURN IT DOWN.”

“It’s not my problem you don’t want to party old man.”

The music’s volume returned to deafening levels.

“I GAVE YOU YOUR CHANCE YOU *cuss* *cussing* *cussers* THE COPS ARE ON THE WAY!”

My dad slammed our door and flipped on the light. I’d never heard a grown man growl before until that moment. He found his cell phone and dialed a number.

“Hello, who is this?” asked me dad. “Warren, this is Lee Lewis………”

The conversation lasted a whole few seconds. My dad works with the county and I guess he knew what to say, how to say it, and who to say it to because twenty minutes later Dad’s cell phone rang.

“Who was that?” I asked.

“The police. They wanted to let me know they have the force together and are on their way here right now.”

He wasn’t lying. All of a sudden bright lights from a dozen cop cars flashed on and surrounded the neighboring camp.

Long story short. We got some sleep. Moral of the story—don’t piss off my dad. Happy Fathers Day everybody.

3 comments:

Raree said...

Shoot - that comment was supposed to go here. I'm an idiot that's completely confused by a blog format with "comments" at the top of a post. :D Anyway, once again props to your Dad. haha

Julie Musil said...

I've camped next to people like that! Good for your dad.

Ben Spendlove said...

I love happy endings.