The doors … people are strange!

Fule for Thought

 

I’m feeling a little blue right now. I’m actually writing this column in the Station, listening to Blues music. I’m a bit down because I just sold my mid-life crisis 1994 Mustang. Oh sure, it was the practical thing to do, but I think I also just sold the last remnants of my youth! 

It’s good the Blues are playing. I’ve got a half empty (pessimist, I guess) pint of beer, my father-in-law just won $800 on the VLTs, and I just kissed goodbye to fun! 

Sing it, Howlin’ Floyd, that last line you sang, told my story. 

“Got no wheels, got no story, lost my milk cow, got no glory” … it’s all too true. Sometimes it’s no fun being an adult – you have to do grown up things.

It didn’t help that Deb shot me, (and men, in general), down this week. She was working in her home office, and I did my one of my usual unselfish, “super husband” deeds. I took her a chilled Straw-Ber-Rita. I can only imagine what Breanne thought when she heard us from the open office door.

“Why is it so little?” questioned Deb.

“Uh Deb, that’s the last thing a guy wants to hear from his wife,” I replied.

She giggled (this also didn’t help). Believe it or not, she followed this innocently with, “wow, it’s really cold, too!”

“Again Deb, that’s not a good follow up to what you just said. It’s little and it’s cold, are two statements no guy wants to hear, okay?”

Bree’s comments from outside the door were also cold, but to the point. 

“You guys are gross, and you’re not my dad,” she said disgustedly.

“Well, we only have your mom’s word on that, anyway,” I laughed, as I shut her office door.

Here at the Station, I started to think about doors, as that massive, swinging front door, almost smoked me! I mean, really, that thing is a beast and its got a vicious swing! I wonder if the management ever sits back at the end of a shift, to watch all of us get hit, or leap, just in time to save ourselves! 

I mean, there have got to have been a few older gals who’ve been sent flying. You can’t tell that at the end of a slow night, some staff aren’t watching Strathmore’s own version of “Funniest Videos!”

Doors can be the source of humour, too. I know when my son and daughter worked at the local DQ, the freezer door became Bree’s nightmare! She was a new, scared employee, and Brennen had cooked there a while. Whenever he could, as she passed the sink, Brennen would spray her, push her through the freezer door, and keep her there as long as he could! 

She’d eventually emerge, a little frost on her eye brows, and race to make another fraozen ice cream treat! That freezer door and her brother, became her greatest fears!

Years ago, Deb and I were in my brother’s wedding party. On one great Paul Simon song, “You Can Call Me Al,” we started a conga line. With about 20-30 guests, all linked, we danced down the hall, and through the ladies’ room door! 

One poor old gal (we never found out who) was behind one of the stall doors! Every person in the conga line danced through the bathroom door, and knocked on her stall door, as we danced on out! That stall door was her only protection from this goofy line of dancers; I’m not sure if she ever came out!

You know what are really fun … revolving doors! One teachers’ convention, a group of us were heading to lunch through a revolving door. As we all moved smoothly through the spinning door, I saw my chance with a new teacher. It was perfect, Mark had a lot of momentum, and crumpled into the firmly held door. Ah, Slapstick! 

The sound of the hit, his swears, and his doubled up body were all too good, and I almost felt badly … almost! Once I stopped laughing, I checked to see if he was okay, then I apologized. He was alright, and only his pride was really hurt! No teeth were lost.

 “When one door closes, another opens,” and “keep all your doors open,” are two old sayings with good advice. Some doors, like the Stations, will smack us when we least expect it, like life. 

Some doors lead to fun, and sometimes not even a door can protect you from the unexpected. I wonder if that older lady at the wedding has ever trusted the safety of a door again! That conga line must’ve taken forever to leave!

(“Fule for Thought” is a slice of life humourous column that appears in the Strathmore Times, written by long-time resident, town councillor, high school teacher, coach, husband and father of two – Pat Fule. If you would like to get in touch with Pat, you can send him an e-mail at Pat.fule@shaw.ca)