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June 20, 2005
Happy Father's Day to a Little Old Man in Kentucky
I headed to Louisville over the weekend to visit some friends and flew back to the District of Columbia on Sunday morning, which (for those of you who are idiots) happened to be Father's Day! As I was approaching a security checkpoint at the Louisville airport, I noticed that the initial line of defense between Al-Qaeda and the United States (i.e. the first person who checks your boarding pass and identification) was a little old man who looked like he was about 125 years old. (Over the weekend, I learned that about 98% of the population of Kentucky smokes. Given that information, the guy was probably only 70 or 75 because smoking, after all, makes one age more rapidly. (Last week, there was actually a news story about how smoking makes people age faster. Is there any adult with an IQ above 7 who didn't know that already? If so, how can we prevent these people from breeding?)) Anyway, like most people in Kentucky, the man was very friendly. Given his age and the whole Father's Day thing, I decided to ask if he was a dad.
Thinking Fool: Are you a father?
Old Non-TSA Security Guard: Yes, I am.
Thinking Fool: Well, then Happy Father's Day!
Old Non-TSA Security Guard: Thank you. Thank you very much.
Thinking Fool: My pleasure.
At this point, I thought our conversation had concluded. Why? Well, two reasons. First, a few seconds of silence had elapsed. Second, I had turned my body away from the security guard and faced forward. In other words, I didn't know if the guy was still looking at me, but if his eyes were fixated on my body, they were looking at the back of my head, the back of my neck, my back, my buttocks (he didn't seem like the type), etc. I've had enough random conversations with complete strangers to know when a conversation is usually over. Since we did not have to occupy a space in close proximity to each other (think the inside of a subway car or the inside of an airplane), nor did we have to continue to interact (think awkward silence on a first date), there just didn't seem to be more conversation on tap for this man and me. I was wrong.
Old Non-TSA Security Guard: I actually have got about five children!
Thinking Fool: (Turning around and thinking, "How can someone have 'about' five children? Either you do have five children or you don't have five children." Thinking a little more, "Well, I guess if you're a professional athlete or a rock star or a sperm donor, then you might have 'about' five or 'about' ten or 'about' some number of children because I guess you just wouldn't know. Wow, was this little old man with no teeth a total player in his day? He might have spread more seed in Kentucky than all the farmers combined. I wonder if I should explore this with him?" Deciding against it...) About five! Wow, that's quite a few.
Old Non-TSA Security Guard: You betcha!
Thinking Fool: (I think he expects me to say something back because he's looking at me like a coyote looks at a rabbit. Hmm...) Well, I sure do hope all of them call you today to wish you Happy Father's Day. (Okay. That should end the conversation.)
Old Non-TSA Security Guard: Oh no, sir. I haven't talked to any of them in about ten years. They won't talk to me no more.
Thinking Fool: (Ten years??? Well doesn't this guy sound like a hell of a dad! After all, it's one thing to fall out of touch with one child. It's another thing to fall out of touch with two children. It's quite another to fall out of touch with three children! But to fall out of touch with "about" five kids??? What the hell did you do to them? Beat them? Touch them? Verbally abuse them? Not share your cigarettes with them? (When I got off the plane on my trip TO Kentucky, I immediately thought, "I didn't realize there were still airports that allowed people to smoke anywhere they wanted to within the terminals." It turns out that the stench that I smelled was not of people currently smoking, but was just the leftover odor from people who must have smoked fifteen cigarettes each immediately before entering the terminal. It was insanely horrible smelling.) What am I supposed to say to this guy at this point?) Wow, you have about five children and aren't going to get to talk to any of them today?
Old Non-TSA Security Guard: No, sir. They won't talk to me, not for ten years.
Thinking Fool: (Well, he's said it twice now, so I guess he's not kidding around. WWTDD? What Would The Donald Do in this situation? I know! I could try to get him to write a book and use me as an agent. Hell, I could even ghostwrite the title for him. My Kids All Hate Me or No One Ever Told Me that Touching Horses is Okay, but Touching Kids is Not, Now Where are My Cigarettes? I really need to get the hell out of here.) Well, that's really too bad. Tell you what. I'll wish you Happy Father's Day on behalf of all of them. (Please don't think you can touch me now.)
Old Non-TSA Security Guard: Thank you. Thank you very much. I appreciate that very much.
Thinking Fool: My pleasure.
You really have to wonder how parents can lose touch with their children. I can't even fathom that possibility. I'm incredibly close with both of my parents and talk to each several times throughout the week. For example, yesterday, my dad called and left the following message: "Thank you very much for your really sweet Father's Day card. It was very special." Turns out I haven't sent my dad a Father's Day Card yet, so he was just trying to be an asshole! (We have a great relationship like that, however, where we can go back and forth and kind of roast each other. So when we're assholes to each other, it's in a kind, fun way, not a vindictive one.) And my mom, we're totally tight too. I guess if you're a real douche bag as a parent, your kids will end up hating you. As a society, we really need to figure out how to keep certain people from procreating. More importantly, I need to go to bed.
