♫ Bright college days, O carefree days that fly...♫

[captainsblog]

Back from Fredonia. Our much-anticipated reunion with the spawn, intended to (1) fix her seemingly broken mobile, (2) deliver a relatively small load of provisions (dormitory laundry rooms no longer requiring quarters but not providing those 50-cent packets of detergent, either), and (3) hug and kiss and reminisce.

On our ride home, Mom and I spent ample time invoking the not-so-Holy Trinity:


                                                                "Jesus, Marion, Josef!"

We love the kid, don't get me wrong, but true love has its moments of testing. This was one of those times.

----

The Fredonia Correctional Facility has pretty strict ruulz for even parent visits during the program. Advance forms needed to be faxed. The child had to be signed in and out like a diplomatic courier's briefcase. Finally, it was made clear we could not interrupt the proceedings by arriving any earlier than the end of her last class, which was supposed to be 5. She called closer to 4:30 to say she was on her way; fortunately, we'd left in time to accommodate this.

From the original journey, I knew there was an AT&T store right off the exit from the 90, so our first stop would be there, to see if her phone could be fixed and, if not, what replacements were available. From all we knew, a replacement Motorola Razr like the one she had would've been fine. Trouble is, Motorola's now on the outs with this provider, and so it was clear we'd be shopppp-ping!

We arrived just past 5, and just in time for a massive bit of business going on- most of it involving families of five, dragging their kids behind them, all with past-due cellular bills, wads of cash, and existing phones (not necessarily theirs) in tow, and I seriously wondered whether this store was on the main bus line from the Chautauqua County Central Meth Lab. Eleanor was in the car, with not much to do but wait. Em and I were inside, not doing much better, and after a few minutes I suggested I wait alone, pick a suitable mobile for her, and then walk over to the inviting-looking Applebee's next door where she and Mom would get set up to start eating. Fine.

Now much closer to 5:30, and me being the one bored to tears by myself, the line proceeded to not. Move. AT ALL.   Little Jethro, all 18 months old of him, was threatening to book for the parking lot for the fourteenth time. (He probably left his cigarettes in the pick-up.) Next door, appetizers were getting cold and, more to the point, wine was being drunk without me even getting to watch, much less partake, so I made an Executive Decision: to return and finish the phone replacement ordeal after dinner.  It was at that Murphyslaw-like moment that I managed to fix the phone all by myself.

Moments later, a plate of I Can Haz Chzbrgr Slider Appetizers pending, I handed the freshly fixed fon to Em, and her crest promptly fell.  This was not the outcome she'd planned.

NOW is when she explained how she really wanted a phone with better texting ability. How she missed her friends back home and how that was her best way to keep in touch with them and yadda yadda yadda. How the return of her own phone was an insult. How sorry she was for saying most of those things seconds after she said them.

Ultimately, feathers were smoothed. I sent them campusward in search of ice cream while I took a second crack (bad choice of words for the earlier crowd) at the task at hand. Much better. Me and Todd got it done, with a suitable Samsung with a slideout QWERTY keyboard, for a reasonable price in a reasonable time. We delivered the goods to her after they returned from the ice cream parlor, said our fond farewells, and got back on the 90 homeward bound.

We weren't much past halfway to the Lackawanna tolls when my own phone vibed.  There was a text. Hmmmm, who could THAT be from?







Hey, where are you guys? I want to show you my new phone.

Apparently, she texted her entire list with this happy news. Which, ironically enough, includes the 'rents (or at least did). The new phone's been busy when I've tried reaching it since.

She deserves it. I'm glad we took care of it. But sheesh. Save the drama for the NYSSSA program down at Adelphi next time, huh?

Comments

[whyaduck.livejournal.com]

Just seeing the word Fredonia makes every story, no matter how frsutrating, take on the slapstick patina of a Marx Bros. affair.

It's great.

[ellettra.livejournal.com]

what a good dad you are. :)

[headbanger118.livejournal.com]

You remind my of my grandmother. When I lost my class ring during a football game in highschool, my mom's suggestion was to re-march my part of the entire field show to see if I had lost it during our band's half-time performance. When that did produce results, they offered to buy my a replacement ring of the same type and stone I had (that celestrium stuff and a blue stone). Enter my grandmother: the new ring was 14k gold, mother of pearl stone, AND she managed to cut a deal with the jewelry store.