Sunday, August 3, 2008

"What The Hell Was I Thinking?"

Sometimes I look at my son, and think to myself, “What the hell was I thinking?” I've silently asked myself this question many times in my life.

Looking back, my college years all seem a blur. However, I do remember a classic “What the hell was I thinking?” moment. This specific event is tame compared to the stories that my better judgment will not let me publish at this time. It was early fall, or late spring, or sometime in between. I went to the local bar as we did on many a Thursday night. I don’t remember how long I was at the bar. I don’t remember what, or how much I drank. I don’t remember leaving the bar. All I know is that I entered the bar, and when I came back to my senses, I had been sleeping in the parking lot of the restaurant next door to the bar. I was in the passenger seat of a car that didn’t belong to me. Next to me, sound asleep, was a stranger, who I assumed was the owner of this vehicle of slumber. On his lap was a number of crisp green dollar bills. Without thinking twice, I swiped the money from proprietor of this fine establishment. My cat-like precision ensured I wouldn’t wake him and be caught in the act.

Now it was time for a major decision. Do I try to leave the sedan, and risk getting pinched by my new companion as I exit his bed at 6am? OR Do I let my curiosity get the best of me, wake him, and start the interrogation in an attempt to put the pieces of last night’s puzzle back together? Dear reader, as I am sure you have already guessed, I woke the sleeping beauty with a few delicate nudges to his leg. As the hangover sweat steam clouded the windows I said, “Excuse me, do you know how I got here?” Rubbing the sleepiness from his eyes, he exclaimed “Who the FUCK ARE YOU?!?” At this point, I figured I had nothing to lose. “I was at the bar last night, and I got drunk, and I have no idea how I ended up here. I thought you might have some insight, but I guess not.” And then, I really pushed the envelope with the question. “Would you mind giving me a ride back to campus?” I could almost see this guys temple vein pop as he roared, “GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY CAR YOU ASSHOLE.” I exited. I though to myself that he was a bit rude considering the circumstances. I had a long walk ahead of me, so I made my way to the seven eleven to buy a cup of coffee with the innkeeper’s money. I certainly did have many “What the hell was I thinking?” moments in college, but after my undergraduate years I really got my act together, right?

In February of 2003, Brooklyn experienced a huge snowstorm. The nostalgia of being at my mother’s house quickly lead me to my old garage where I found my winter sleds and summer boogie boards. It was time for a good ol’ game of garage roof bobsled. After a few slaloms down the slippery slope my brother and I became bored, as children usually do. In my infinite wisdom, I grabbed my sled and sibling, and made my way to my little sister’s bedroom the second floor where we climbed through the window onto the roof of the front porch. I knew we had to do our deed before the logic of my parents could set in, and with that we jumped. My brother, always the smarter of the pair, jumped right beside me, but knew enough to land on his back, distributing his weight in the fall. I, on the other hand, spiked feet first into the ground like a lawn dart. Immediately, “What the hell was I thinking?” ran through my mind. We made it through the blizzard to the hospital where the x-rays showed sprained ankles. The doctor said it was a miracle I didn’t break my legs. The next day was my first appearance as a self-employed attorney. “What the hell was I thinking?,” indeed.

Today, I look at my son and think about the life I currently live. I run my own law office, usually in nothing more than my underwear, as I work from my basement. I perform in a comedy troupe, FUCT, also usually in my underwear. I sometimes get in at odd hours of the night, and I juggle wife, baby, and life throughout the day. Nicole and I could have spent the first few years of our marriage “enjoying ourselves,” as they say couples should. However, I think in the long run, this is exactly how we choose to enjoy ourselves. We enter different, challenging, and downright crazy situations with a sense of excitement. Jackson was a planned roller coaster ride, and every time he smiles at me I know he’s worth the cost of admission.


BusyDad said...

Thanks for writing me earlier and best of luck with the blog! Good honest stuff. Have fun with it (I started my blog for the same reasons you did). You'll have many "What the Hell Was I Thinking" blog moments as well, but all in all, it's a ton of fun - as good as getting drunk and passing out, which I often do while blogging (yeah, best of both worlds).

Anonymous said...

You forgot to mention that we couldn't go to the hospital until the result show of Joe Millionaire was over.