Reading Between the Headlines
Every week I use this forum to take cheap shots at athletes. This week, in honor of Labor Day, I’m going to let everyone else take a shot at me. Sit back and enjoy this very special, Reading Between the Headline. That’s right. Just one. Because that’s all it takes to explain one of the most embarrassing moments of my life.
- USC helped kick-off ESPN’s College Football Opening Night by beating Hawaii.
The USC-Hawaii match-up holds special significance in my life as it takes me back to Labor Day Weekend 2005, a painful reminder of my very own “Meet the Parents” experience. That weekend, USC took on Hawaii and routed them 63-17. Coincidentally, that was five years ago today.
I’ve only re-told this story a few times, but I’m willing to share it here, to help kick-off the holiday weekend:
Five years ago, I was in graduate school dating a long-term girlfriend living in New York City. For Labor Day weekend, her grandfather, a movie producer, invited their entire family to his home in East Hampton, NY. Being the boyfriend of the eldest grandchild, I was invited as well.
While I had met most of my girlfriend’s family before, I was still pretty nervous. First off, all I knew about the Hamptons was that it was a place for rich people to vacation and Billy Joel to wreck cars. And considering I was neither rich or famous, I felt a tad out of my element. Little did I know, I might have more in common with Billy Joel than I thought.
Anyway, we head to Long Island on a sweltering Friday afternoon on a crowded train that had little to no air conditioning. As we ride, my girlfriend kept trying to make me comfortable with positive reinforcement. On the outside, I was stone cold. On the inside, I was a nervous, sweaty mess.
As we pull up to our stop, hundreds of people pile out of this tiny little train station into the parking lot that’s just one row long facing the street. We then find my girlfriend’s grandmother who is patiently waiting for us in a brand new Porsche Cayenne. We exchange pleasantries and are off to the house. As we pull out, a guy who looked like a skinnier, yet just as greasy version of “The Situation,” starts banging on the car screaming, “No! No! No!” I exit the car, whereupon The Situation helpfully informs me we have a flat tire. Although this was no “nail stuck in the sidewall” flat tire: I look down and see a shredded, mangled mess of rubber.
At this point, Grandma is concerned and asks what we can do. Now, I lived in Baltimore for three years: the worst roads in the country are in Baltimore. Over the course of my time there, I changed flat tires no less than five times, sometimes in the middle of a terrible neighborhood. I was damn good at it, and quite proud. My girlfriend knew this.
However, seeing that the car was on a slight angle, and the fact that my tire-changing experience was limited to Hondas, I pleaded with my girlfriend and her grandmother to call Triple A. Triple A tells us it’ll take two hours for them to get to us because it’s a Friday afternoon in a beach town on a holiday weekend. We’re screwed.
I knew it was a bad idea from the start, but a crying Grandma clutching my loving girlfriend convinced me to give it a shot. At the station, in my douche suit of jeans and a black t-shirt, I jack up the car and successfully remove the tire. Covered in sweat and dirt, I emerge a new man, confident in my maleness. I may have been a lowly law student, but I was handling my man business. I was the hero. Grandma’s tears of sadness soon turned to tears of joy. My girlfriend, to this day, still the toughest girl I’ve ever met, became overjoyed with my work. This was my Roy Hobbs moment.
As I turn to load the shredded wheel into the trunk, I reach for the spare and strut toward the axle. Like Hobbs circling the bases, I begin to picture the tale of my feat being re-told over beers in the backyard. The grandfather, impressed by my courage in the face of adversity, will hire me to act in one of his movies. I will be welcomed into the family with open arms.
In the midst of my self-congratulatory delusions, all of a sudden, I hear a gasp from the people walking past us in the train station parking lot. In a moment that felt longer than watching a triple overtime WNBA game, the truck came crashing down off the jack and into the asphalt. Then’s when the bad times started.
Long story short, the car had $6,000 worth of damage to it. Even after it was fixed, the Grandfather said it wasn’t the same. They ended up buying a new car a few months later. For many unrelated reasons, many months later, my relationship with the girl ended. I was eventually replaced with someone else. Hopefully he has the sense to wait for Triple A.
That’s it for me. If you need me, I’ll be at the beach (not the Hamptons), celebrating the Slowl. Be safe out there, and for the love of God, don’t go changing any tires.
Tagged with: I Blew It • Jesus I Screwed Up • Meet the Parents • My Personal Nightmare • Porsche Cayenne • Roy Hobbs • Tales From Duke's Past
Filed under: Uncategorized
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What a nightmare, but a great post and very funny! A story you will be telling your grandchildren some day.
Should have called your father for some fatherly advice. He would have reminded you to move the car to level ground and chock the tires. Or he probably would not have had his cellphone with him because he’s a throwback to another era and doesn’t carry it so you still would have been screwed. Oh well, you wouldn’t have had this great story…