Southern Exposure
Greetings Earthlings!
Let me just start by saying that if you are looking for a blog here that is a humorous tale of humanity on the fringes, you may be disappointed.
It is, however, ….a…hmmm..somewhat ‘uplifting’ tale. It is a tale of grocery shopping, moderate perversion, and completely inappropriate laughter.
If this intrigues you, by all means keep reading. Cheeky monkeys.
But first! RANDOM BACKUP FACTAGE!!
K. So you ever, like, have a relationship with a person that you pretty much know isn’t going to be a forever thing, but you hang on a bit too long because you are in love with the person’s family?
That’s kind of what I’m talking about here. We were actually together almost 4 years….engaged too boot….but all that is a story for another blog. Or not. It’s kind of a downer. I have no regrets. But this is in fact the same person I had an almost-famous conversation at IHOP with.
He had this maternal uncle, Tom, who was closer in age to us than to his mom. His wife, Leanne, and their 4 kids were some of our favorite people, and we went down to Illinois to visit them often. (We were in Wisconsin at the time, if you recall).
Tom *is* ADD personified, and one of the funniest people I know. I don’t know where he gets his energy from. 4 kids….then ranging in age from the baby boy to an 11 year-old girl. A full-time job and a volunteer fireman. In his “spare time” he dug a duck pond in his front yard. It is because of Tom that I have first-hand experience holding a peacock loosely confined in a grain sack on my lap in a van full of kids. Trust me when I say there is nothing quite like it!
Tom is a big practical joker. I’m throwing these factoids in because they are too golden not to mention. He loved nothing more than to laugh at everything and everyone. He loved to send Leanne to the store with all 4 kids with condoms tucked into her checkbook. They would all spill out as she was wrestling with the kids in line and trying to pay.
He set up a hidden camera at the fire department and a bunch of cheap pottery that he rigged to fall over and watched his co-fireman try to stutter an explanation as to why they knocked over his ‘wife’s long time project’. One guy lied right to his face and got really steamed when told about the video.
When he got a laser printer…watch out. He loved nothing better than to send official-looking envelopes to my ex…..at work….with the return address “Center for Disease Control”. And there would be a big red stamp on the front that said: “YOUR TEST RESULTS ARE ENCLOSED”
Leanne, obviously, is a saint and also has a great sense of humor. She has to, having 5 children, if you want to get technical.
So! One weekend we were down there visiting and we needed to run to the store for some barbecue stuff . We took the 11-year-old daughter, and the 5 and 7-year-old sons with us. Got the stuff we needed and headed back out to the car. We were laughing and joking around like always.
We get to the car (surprise surprise…a station wagon!) and I’m just standing at the front passenger door when Leanne tucks in her chin and whispers furiously, “Ohmygod Ohmygod DON’T LOOK he’s EXPOSING HIMSELF.”
Um….what? I had *no* idea what she was even talking about, so hello, of course I’m going to LOOK…..and there he….it…was.
The guy was parked facing us…..right in front of us…..and he had his drivers door sort of propped open but he was standing in front of it…not far away from me. He had shades on, and one hand was shielding his eyes as he looked in the distance, pretending to search for someone. His other hand….well….let’s just say he was wearing short shorts, and going commando.
His other hand was holding up the edge of his shorts and, to put a spin on a popular British phrase, the entree and one side dish were clearly visible. I was so stunned I didn’t even know what to do. I mean, people actually DO THIS?! He couldn’t have been more than mid-30s, tops.
Suddenly my brain went into gear and I thought “THE CHILDREN!” so I quickly got into the car and acted all hum-de-dum.
And you know darn well that wasn’t going to fly with the 11-year-old.
“What happened Mommy? Who was that guy? What did he do? Mary who was that guy? What did he do? What was he disposing?”
Ah, youth. Gotta love it. I was relieved she’d misheard. So we were pulling out of the parking spot and he was still…erm….doing his thing, as it were, so we studiously ignored him and then Leanne glanced at me sideways and we just completely started cracking up.
This only made things worse.
“What’s so funny Mommy? Mary what’s so funny? Who is that man? What did he do?”
And did this silence us even a wee bit? Well, gentle readers, I won’t keep you in suspense…no, it did not.
But then we saw something that sobered us up a bit….as we pulled away I couldn’t help but notice that the perv’s license plate was covered up. Obviously this wasn’t a spur-of-the-moment jam session we were witnessing. This guy was a regular band member.
We pulled into another part of the parking lot and Leanne called the cops. We tried desperately to a) stop snickering and b) explain to an 11-year-old what we were doing without actually explaining anything. I was out of my depth here so I let Leanne handle it. I kept an eye on the guy in the side mirror and was keeping my composure just fine thank you very much until I heard the 11-year-old ask “Mommy what’s ‘inappropriate’ mean?”
Stick a fork in me….I’m done, I thought. I was pretty certain I was losing brain cells I could ill-afford to, such was the pressure of the held-back sniggering. (remind me someday to tell you about my thing about the word ‘inappropriate’)
Anyway, to make a long story even longer (I’m so good at that, no?) the cops finally showed up and lo and behold….Mr Southern Exposure goes speeding off.
The worst part…the absolute worst….was what came next. Leanne and I were both barely keeping it together, the kids were in the car, and we stepped out to talk to the nice officers. We told him what we saw, what we knew, and studiously ignored one another. If our eyes had met at that point it would have been all over. I knew it and she knew it.
And I was fine until the officer flipped a page in his notebook. For some reason the thought of what he was actually scribbling in there made One Single Snigger escape. Can you imagine? Well I could. And it made me twitter.
Then it just got worse. Officer Barbrady looks at me and says “Now I can tell you’re nervous from the giggling but I’m sorry I have to ask you this next question. It’s very important.”
Oh sweet milk of magnesia…he thinks I’m giggling because I’m nervous? Please stop talking. Please, please stop talking……
“Ma’am I have to ask you….was he erect?”
“I’m sorry?” I stalled for time. I was sure my head was going to explode. The pressure…oh god, the pressure…of held-in laughter…..
“Ma’am I do apologize. But we need to establish if this man is a serial offender. Chances are if he was erect, he was getting off on what he was doing. (ya THINK!? *parenthesis mine*) And if that’s the case then it’s likely that he has done this before.”
REALLY? You mean THAT, combined with the fact that HIS LICENSE PLATE WAS COVERED, and he squealed his tires peeling out of here when he saw you drive up, led you to believe this might not be the first time he’s done this?
Good thing he went to the POH-lice academy, that one. Nothing was getting by *his* radar! (now please don’t get offended. I know many cops. I’m not making fun of cops. I’m making fun of stupidity. And I’m allowed, since it takes one to know one.)
Now where was I?
Oh, yes. About to answer the intrepid officer about The Question of Tumescence. I held it together. I really did. I looked him right in the eye and I said “Well, he was sort of…..half-mast”
And even *that* would have been ok….until I realized that unknowingly I was making an accompanying hand gesture…with my thumb and forefinger in starring roles.
I looked at my hand. I looked at the officer. I couldn’t help it…I looked at Leanne to see if she had seen….and she had.
And that really was me, done. And yes, in honor of Alan, I will admit that I loosed a helluva rip-snorting guffaw at that point.
I don’t remember too much after that. It was almost like being drunk, I kinda blanked out for a bit. I know the nice officers thanked us and folded up their trusty notebooks (with their trusty notes) and left. I know we made it home through 10,000 questions….
“What did you say Mom? Mom? Did you tell the officers about the bad man? Do we have to go downtown? (sure sign the kid watches too much tv) What did they say, Mary? Did he make you laugh? Oooo I bet you like him like a BOYFRIEND and that’s why you laughed. Do you like him like a BOYFRIEND? What did they say, Mom?”
I know that when we finally made it back to their house we almost fell out of the car. I know the men came up and asked what the hell happened. I know we couldn’t speak for quite some time. I know it was a helluva good laugh for a helluva bad reason.
Inappropriate, indeed.
But what was most inappropriate was one little *flash* (no pun intended) I saw in the sunlight….the perv’s one hand…the one that wasn’t massaging the numbers, as it were, was sporting a wedding band.
Icky.
Feckin perv.