A Christmas Party at My Son’s School Turns Into a Muddy Mess of a Day
After missing a play at school written and performed by my 6-year-old son, Logan, I knew I needed to make up for it by showing up for his Christmas party today. Little did I know that karma was about to kick my butt.
After doing interviews for the football game I'm covering tomorrow and delivering Free Lunch Friday to Raye Allen Elementary in Temple, I was running seriously late. I could hear his voice already, "But dad, you didn't make it to the Christmas party until the very end". Not what I felt like hearing.
After driving with, shall we say, purpose, through the streets of Belton, I got to the school 15 minutes after the party had started. In order to avoid a longer walk (I'm a lazy man, after all) I parked in the grass next to the parking lot where a lot of others were already parked. I could feel the ground turn soupy as I drove over it, but I was all-in at the point in time. There was no turning back.
I should have known it wasn't going to end well when I sank up to the midway point of my shoes. Still, I had some Christmas cheer to spread. I made it to class just in time to see all the reindeer games being played, and after realizing this was NOT the kind of party where a pony keg could be found, I decided it was time to leave. The other problem was figuring out what I was going to do with the 90 minutes left before my older son got out of school.
My bad karma took care of that dilemma with a whole lotta mud. It took about five minutes of rocking back and forth in the mud before I called it and (shamefully) called a tow truck. I've saved more in towing, tire changing and battery-jumping through free roadside assistance over the years than I'd care to admit.
I've gotta say, before I forget, that three different people were nice enough to offer their assistance. The first gentleman that asked offered to push the truck out of the mud while I drove, but c'mon, he was wearing nice, white shoes. I told him thanks, but a tow truck was on the way. The next guy to offer said he could pull me out with his truck. He was wearing camo, so I knew I could trust his handy work, but still, I told him I'd wait for the tow truck.
After an hour of waiting, all I've got left to show for my humiliation is a Facebook status update and muddy shoes. I'm used to it, though. I've become adept at hiking through the mud, as I've shown in previous website posts. Next time, fat boy will park further down the concrete to avoid the mud. That, and I WILL be making my next truck purchase a 4X4.