Out in Tempe for a weekend of Angels spring training baseball and hanging out with some cool mofos from angelswin.com in the deal, as well as getting another tattoo, this one possibly for my daughter (more on that tomorrow or Sunday). But before all that, a story, of course.
This morning I awoke at 2:15 so I could shower and then go surprise my daughter with a wake-up visit and taking her to school – she lives in San Diego – and then off to Tempe. It worked beautifully; she was completely surprised and it was worth every second and dime of the extra three hours driving. Went to drop her off at school, and there was a guy who worked at the school putting up cones in the street by the school where the buses parked; it was 6:40 and they weren’t supposed to go up until 7. I parked just ahead of where the cones went, walked Zoe in and then went back to the car. Cone guy was looking at my tight ride and he asked me how I ended up a fan of both the Angels and Chargers fan.
Keep in mind I’m in San Diego right now, three hours south of Lancaster.
I told him I grew up in Lancaster and hated the Dodgers and Raiders because they were always in the news, so I rooted for the underdogs. He told me he grew up in Lancaster too, and asked me when I graduated. I told him 87, AVHS. He told me he did too, and then asked me if I was Glen.
Holy fuck, he knew me and remembered me! Keep in mind this is what I looked like in high school:
and this is what I look like now:
Okay, first off: calm down ladies, there’s plenty of me to go around. Now that that’s taken care of…yeah, he remembered me from a math class in my junior year. Then came the dreaded question from him: “do you remember me?”
Fuck. I can’t remember people I met last year and it’s only March. I decided honesty was the best tactic so I said “no, sorry, I don’t but don’t feel bad, I can’t even remember people I met last year.” Yeah, I keep certain lines on standby in my noggin. He then said “I was the only Mexican in our grade. Do you remember me now?”
Double fuck. Confession time: I only hung out with white people in high school. Not really by choice or design, just the way it turned out because there was only one Mexican in our grade, evidently. He continued: “There were only seven Mexicans in the entire school, man.”
I was stuck with no way out. I said “Sorry, man, I really don’t remember you.” There was a moment or two of awkward silence between us. I just wanted to get the fuck on the road and get to Tempe. He decided to punish me for my absent memory by talking about the AV for a bit, and there was no way I was gonna cut him off. Finally, he said “well I have to get going, good seeing ya and take care.” I wished him the same and hopped in my hoopty and sped off before he could mention other people I knew but forgot.
For the record, he told me what his name was and I’ve already forgotten it; I was too busy writing this blog in my mind to remember it.
It’s a small world, after all.