Let it begin!
It all started last night, it was a cool and breezy night. I had just got off work and was relaxing in front of my favorite toy, the computer. I was doing my usual thing, checking emails, the lols, and getting ready to play City of Heroes with Tim and Mort. When all of a sudden boyfriend told me that Dad’s truck broke down.
Now my dad was stranded somewhere in Pennsylvania with no money and no way home. Not even two seconds later my telephone rang. Dad’s ears must’ve been ringing because it was him on the other end. I answered “Hello, where are you?” He replied with “Hello, State College.”
Okay so he was some place I was familiar with, but not that familiar. He promised me he was safe and tucked in for the night. He must’ve been lonely because he kept me on the phone for a good twenty minutes letting me know what happened and where exactly he was. Finally he was tired enough to pass out and we said good night.
This morning, I get up at 5:15am to let LGIB in the door so her mom can get to work. Back to sleep I go once I get her settled in. Then at 6:30 my alarm clock goes off telling me it’s time to get up and moving so I can get Rhys on his bus and LGIB on hers. So I slap the snooze button.
Twenty minutes later the phone rings, blinded by the light of the phone I answer groggily “Hello?” It’s dad on the line “Gooooood morning.” I can only grunt at this point, mentally thinking to myself, the sun isn’t up yet and you are telling me good morning.
“Is your computer fired up?”
“No, I’m not even awake yet?”
“Okay, I need you to…”
“Wait dad, lemme get out of bed first and get the computer started up before you list me off things to do. I’ll call you in a few minutes.”
So I rolled out of bed, begrudgingly I might add and started my day. I got Boyfriend up and made his coffee, pulled Rhys from his sleep and got him in the bathroom and started up my computer. While the coffee was doing its thing and my computer doing its. I got my son ready for school. Socks, pants, shirt and shoes. By this time it’s 7:10am, so we go outside and wait for his bus. I send the kidlet off to school and go back upstairs to call dad. Still groggy and missing the warmth of my bed, I open up my firefox.
“I need you to go to Chase and tell me how much is in there.”
Last night I had told him there was nothing new to the account and he told me his check should be in this morning. Me not remembering this at that time was expecting to see x amount of dollars again and hear “Aww what the piss” from dad.
I logged into his account and seen there was more than last night. I told him this and this is where the epic adventure to save my dad begins truly.
“I need you to go to bank and then to walmart and wire me some money.”
“Zach has the car and is at work. He won’t be home until 4ish.”
“Dammit there goes that plan.”
“Is there a Wal-mart near by?”
“I don’t know.”
“Alright lemme check.”
So I go to walmart.com and use the store locater and find there is one just down the road a piece from where he was sitting at. I tell him it’s 3 miles away and if he could get a ride I’ll figure out a way to get to walmart.
“What about what’s her name?”
“Uh lemme call her and see if she has the van.”
Once again we hang up and I call Donnella, turns out her boyfriend has the van and won’t be home until lunch time. Crap on a stick. So then it clicks, oh yeah there’s a bus and it goes to walmart! So I let her know I’ll take the bus and talk to her later.
I call dad back and tell him it was a no go with Donnella and explain my clever plan to ride the bus to wal-mart. Which I could easily have walked, but they’re lacking sidewalks in this city, at least down this end of town. I get dad to activate the debit cards so I can use it to send him some cash. Yes that’s right, the debit cards are here. He was already on the road when they came in. So he got them activated, and called me back. He informed me that they are bussing him home via greyhound and I’ll just have to pick him up in Indy.
Great. I hate Indy.
Anyways, we get the cards sorted and I get dressed, pull my hair back and out the door I go. I stand at the bus stop and wait and wait, and wait some more. I’ve ridden buses before. Everything I needed to get to was within a bus route as I was growing up in Philly. Two other passengers show up, I’ll call them the mumblers, because any time they spoke it was mumbles. And man did the mumblers stink. The wind was blowing west to east and I was standing downwind of body odor. Gag. Finally the bus shows up and I get on. The bus driver didn’t recognize me and asked me if I needed a transfer. I told him no and took a seat at the front of the bus since I wasn’t going to on long.
I asked the driver if there was another stop on the front side of Wal-mart he said yes and let me off there. I kid you not when I say I paid a buck to ride 4 minutes down the road to Wal-mart.
I went to the money center and filled out all the boxes so I could send my dad his money. After waiting for the woman to not be distracted enough, and send the right amount, we were good. Then I had to hunt up a pay phone because I don’t own a cell phone that actually has minutes on it and call him with the information. Finally we get that squared away and I go back into wal-mart to break a ten so I could take the bus back. I kid you not when I say I’m too lazy to walk the whole mile back to my house.
Standing at the bus stop, there was a gentleman who was kind enough to tell me the time and that the bus should be here soon. We joked about how I would save a buck just by walking home. We chit-chatted about our families and how hard the economy was being. Then we fell silent, awkwardly and I put my nose in a magazine I bought. The bus shows up about ten minutes late. I grew up in the city and never take actual times for what they are and consider them approximate times. I sit on the front again and take my four minute ride home.
The bus driver was nice enough to tell me not to walk in front of the bus and wait for it to pass, that there had been numerous people hit by cars that went around. So I stepped off and waited for it to move, thanking the bus driver for the lift as I was taught to do. You’d be surprised how much better their day is when people say thanks for the ride.
Once the bus passed, there were several cars waiting to go. The woman in the car just behind the bus saw me get off and waved me across the street. It’s people like that make me happy I live in Bloomington. Surprisingly enough, this town still impresses me with the amount of polite people it has.
Finally I walked in the door to await a phone call from my dad telling me he got the money.
I just received said phone call, he’s got his money, and he’s on his way to the bus depot to come home. I pick him up at 3 am in Indianapolis.
Keep it real and rockin’
Ask anyone from Saskatchewan (anyone over the age of 30) what chocolate milk is and they might respond with one word.
Vi-Co was actually an American chocolate milk product that in the late 50′s Co-op Dairies in Saskatchewan bought the rights to. It appeared in a small, brown can and later became familiar in the wax-cardboard container. There in bold letters was the word on the side of the carton. Vi-Co. It was an easy word to say. Instead of saying “I’m getting a chocolate milk” people would say “I’m getting a Vi-co” or, as it became known, just simply vico.
When you went into a store and asked for some, the cashier new exactly what you were asking for. The word was so utterly Saskatchewan by the time the 1970′s rolled around that it wasn’t even funny. It was as common as bunny hug, or ski-doo, or toque. Everyone knew what you meant.
When I grew older and began my first stint in broadcasting, I moved to Manitoba. I was over joyed when I went into a store and saw the familiar Vi-Co staring back at me through the dairy isle cases.
Ever since Dairy Producers was bought out by Dairy World, the brand name has been phased out, which is quite sad. I often wonder if during this day and age of retro, if Dairy World started selling Vi-Co again, would there be a resurgence of chocolate milk sales? Maybe, because for many people in Saskatchewan, Vi-Co means a lot. It’s like a familiar spot, or an old friend. It brings back so many memories.
Until next time…
…keep ‘em flyin’!
Chocolate milk. How hard is it to say that? I don’t think I’ve ever come across anyone in my life who has called it Vi-co, then again I’m American. I’ve never heard anyone call it Ovaltine, or Nesquick. I have heard it called a variety of other things. Brown moo-moo, choco-moos and my personal favorite. Bunny milk. I also have a three year old, he adores chocolate milk. So these titles are actually common around my house.
In my years of growing up, chocolate milk was only something we got a resturant when the family went out to supper. There was many times, that we got milk with chocolate flavoring. For some reason parents seem to think that we’d get hyped up on the sugar. Often this wasn’t case and if it was, we’d often get so sugar high’d that we crash out way before bed time.
Now that my kid is growing up and we do the family dinner things, I allow him little luxuries I never had. For example, blowing bubbles in his chocolate milk when we go out to dinner. My theory on this is, let him do it now, and he won’t do it later in life. It’s like giving a kid candy, eventually they’ll just grow out of it. My father doesn’t the like fact that I let Rhys blow bubbles in his milk, but since it’s the only drink he’s allowed to do it in, I see no problem.
Chocolate milk bubble blowing is healthy. All kids do it, most aren’t allowed to do it. Mine is, so long as the cup has a lid.
Keep it real and rockin’