Open All Night

Yesterday was a banner day for the female race, as far as I am concerned. I saw each of the following in a three hour stretch from the time I departed the workplace until I arrived at the ole homestead.

I had a tennis match yesterday, so I stopped at 7-11 to pick up a quick snack to provide some sustenance in anticipation of a battle. There are two stores conveniently located to the courts. 7-11 is further away, but directly on the route. There is a local store just past the courts that is equally filthy, however it doesn’t have as good a selection. The 7-11 usually has some of the strangest characters in it, and yesterday was no exception. I followed this linebacker sized woman into the store. Her attire consisted of sandals, a “golf” skirt that was about a foot too short, and a lovely combo up top of a bikini with a 3x faded tank top (ripped in the centre) over it. Her chosen styling touch was to leave one strap of the tank top off her shoulder and couple the sandals with black polished toenails. She dropped her keys right before she got in there causing me to hide behind a Grand Am, for fear she would expose something. After entering the
store I realised that she was just the tip of the iceberg.

There were four women in the store, counting her, who conveniently all ended up in line directly ahead of me despite the fact that I solely grabbed a beef jerky and got in line. The first two had come together, and both featured what I would term “skater-chic” looks. The first had her hair dyed like a bumblebee, with half being yellow and half being black. The second went with the more typical jet black look to accent her piercings. They had bread, chips, soda, and of course cigarettes. Naturally they paid in credit. The third was the linebacker, who in my estimation was trying to consumer her 42oz’s of soda prior to paying for it. She turned to talk to the fourth lady when I noticed that the soda had attached itself to the perspiration on her upper lip. I also noticed when she smiled that every third tooth was black. I would’ve attributed it to meth if she weren’t so fat. The fourth - well she was a prize too. She bought milk (and
cigarettes), all while sporting a mesh shirt over a halter top. She was so tan that she actually resembled leather. I held my beef jerky up to her and it disappeared. I actually tried to scope out her northern assets, because I was convinced she was a dude by how deep her voice was. I left the store undecided. But, between the four of them I counted 19 visible tattoos (buying cigarettes is very time consuming which provided me a chance to count). While impressive, it didn’t match the efficiency of the woman last time with 15 that I counted.

Speaking of tattoos, after I finished my match I headed down the side street to get back to the main thoroughfare. Right before I got there I noticed two young ladies in the front yard of a house. One was standing there as the other was getting out of a car. The first ran to the second and immediately pulled up her shirt and pulled down her pant top to get a view of a freshly applied tramp stamp. I had just enough time to yell “Nice” as I streamed by. They didn’t seem to mind the extra attention.

Neither of these could hold a candle to what I saw next. I got on the highway, and got stuck behind an 18-wheeler. In the interim a sport bike cruised by, barely going faster than I. I noticed that the rider was of a slight build, and thought it could even be a female. Closer inspection of the sneakers showed that I was correct (they were those stupid ones with no true heel). I waited, and eventually swung to the speed lane and got a good look because you don’t see very many attractive laydees on the front of a crotch rocket. At about the same time she abruptly went into the exit lane. That particular exit ramp runs adjacent to the highway on a service drive before depositing you on one of many other exits. Anyway, as soon as she got into the lane she whipped out her cell phone with her left hand. It had one of those screens that pops up above the full keyboard. She proceeded to start texting on it. Let me say that again - she was texting,
one-handed, while riding a motorcycle. I watched her in the mirror to see when her helmet would look up, and it was only every 3 seconds or so. I cannot even express how stupid this is. What if she dropped it and tried to catch it? Hello - highside. What if she lost her balance? I could go on but I do not want to. So I won’t.

Shockedly yours,
-Michael

It is Sunday July 20th, 2008. And I am admittedly feeling melancholy. Today would have been the 80th birthday for my dad. I can’t believe I am not celebrating it with him. I also can’t believe he has been gone for over 8 months now.

It was strange how quickly he was gone. He was healthy as a horse - hell we all thought he would live for many years to come. But, his illness came on and he was gone in 2 weeks. Really it was less than one week, as that is when he was on the ventilator. And anyone who knows my dad would understand that he was gone at that point. That just wasn’t him. He was too proud for that.

And that is the one adjective I always come back to - proud. He was such a proud man. He just held his head up high and did the best he could. He worked so hard to establish himself and run a successful business. Everyone knew Joe Occhipinti. He built a large family, and that is what he was the most proud of. Family meant the most to him. Speaking of that, he was so very proud of me.

He didn’t have to tell me he was. In fact, he rarely did. Much like the trait I inherited, he wasn’t exactly good at expressing his emotions. But I could easily tell. His beaming smile was always the true indicator.

Because of my parents splitting, I didn’t always get to see him that much. We talked a fair amount. And most of those conversations were just him listening. He loved to hear about what was going on. And I admittedly loved to “brag.” My favourite times were telling him something that he could be proud of. I knew that it made him happy. And that is what I miss the most. I dislike not having him to tell the stories to. I pick up the phone and go through my phone loop - and I sometimes find myself thinking that its time to call him. It takes a few seconds, but then I remind myself I can’t really do that.

As is natural, I wish I had told him more how I felt. Everyone of course says he knows how I felt, but it would be more comforting knowing that I told him. I wish I didn’t have to tell him those things when he was completely unresponsive with a tube down his throat. He certainly wouldn’t have wanted to see me in that state - as nothing made him more upset than seeing me upset.

Please don’t misinterpret this - we were lucky as it could have been much worse. He did not suffer, and it was not immediate and pointing either. But by the same token I don’t feel any less empty today. There is a lot left for him to hear about and be proud of - unfinished business if you will.

Now I am just sitting here praying it doesn’t rain because I want to honour dad the best way I know how - by going out and racing tonight. Love you dad,
-Michael