The annual ”Hands Across America Odyssey” with my father has become one of the highlights of my year. This year’s epic journey to Tampa/St. Petersburg was right up there with our trips to Las Vegas and the cruise to the Caribbean.
Our trips are always filled with a lot of laughs, dry wit, food, drinks, gambling, inappropriate comments to women, and various over-the-counter medications.
Even so, there is an aspect of Driving Mr. Daisy to our trips: me as the long-suffering chauffeur, and my father as the crotchety, demanding, spoiled patriarch.
His crotchetiness usually manifests itself in the passenger seat of the car.
- “You’re driving too slow!”
- “You put your brakes on too soon!”
- “He’s going to cut you off!!”
- “Don’t let him cut you off!”
- “You let him cut you off!”
- “I can’t believe you let him cut you off!”
Yesterday, after a day at The Derby Greyhound track, my father took a long afternoon nap. When he woke up at 8:00pm, he was ready and raring to get back to the casino. On the other hand, I was prepared to watch an NBA game and fall asleep in bed. Well, my father can be persistent, and so we went to the Seminole Hard Rock Hotel and Casino for one last hurrah.
The Hard Rock cafe & Casino is fairly large and spread-out. In other words, you can get a lot of Fit-Bit steps in, as you walk around the casino. To make the traverse worse, I parked at one end of the casino, and the “Let it Ride” table was at the other end.
Fast-forward to 11:00pm, after The Hard Rock casino took back a sizable portion of the money my father won the day before. We still had not eaten dinner, and so we headed for The Hard Rock Cafe. By the time we finished eating it was 11:45pm, and I could barely stay awake - I was exhausted!
We paid our bill and headed back to the car. The car was so far away; we had to stop three times so my father could rest his aching feet.
At our third rest area, while he’s sitting there, he put his hand in his pocket and pulled out four $5 chips and five $1 chips.
I looked at him at said “Do you want me to cash them in for you? Do you want me to walk back to the cashier that was RIGHT NEXT TO THE TABLE WHERE YOU WERE SITTING?”
He said, “Uh, yeah.”
So off I went. I power-walked all the way to the cashier...weaving through wheel chairs, overweight chain smokers, the elderly, scantily clad women in bustiers, and various other obstacles. When I reached the cashier - the line was huge. “Oh great!” After standing in the line for about ten minutes, I exchanged the chips for money, and I went back to my father.
When I reached him, he was sitting in a chair next to a slot machine. He looked at me, held out his hand, and said “I found two more $5 chips.” I sneered at him, stuck out my hand, took the chips, and I was off to the cashier - AGAIN!
On my journey back to the cashier I thought to myself, “Please don’t have a long line.” My plea went unanswered. The line grew longer since my earlier visit.
After I waited in line for another fifteen minutes, I exchanged the chips for money, and I was back on my way.
As I approached my father, I could see he was rummaging through his pockets AGAIN. “Oh no, not again!”, I thought to myself.
He looked up and said, “Do you have my cigarettes?” (Yes, my father smokes at the casino. It drives me crazy, but what can I do.) So, as I said, he asked me if I have his cigarettes, I said, “No. You had them in the restaurant. They were next to your glasses.”
He looked a little annoyed with me as he
said, “I gave them to YOU!”
Now, I’M a little annoyed, “YOU did NOT give them to ME! Dad, are you sure they’re not in your pocket!?”
“No....I checked.”
“Do you want me to go back to the restaurant for your cigarettes?”
“Uh...yeah!”
“Okay, I’ll get them, but YOU left them there - I don’t keep track of YOUR cigarettes!”
So...I start-up my power-walk and head for The Hard Rock Cafe.
When I got there, I said to the hostess “My father left his cigarettes on the table, do you have them?”
“No.”
I said to the waitress “My father left his cigarettes on the table, do you have them?”
“No.”
I said to the busboy “My father left his cigarettes on the table, do you have them?”
“No.”
Empty handed and dejected, I began my journey back to my father.
When I got to him, he had a sheepish grin on his face. He said “They were in my pocket.”
Then he said demandingly, “Can we get going now!? I’m tired!”
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