Very Serious Time

I am at a weird age, being older than my interns where they can pretend to respect me yet younger than their parents so that I don't seem like one of them. I often forget that I am older than the interns because, mentally, I'm not. At least I don't think I am. Well, I don't feel that I am. I'm almost responsible in an accidental sort of way.

Dave's dad was giving me a look over that worked to read all this information from me. He was a serious looking man that appeared to have a background in the military based on his haircut and decorations. “You don't look old enough to be running a department at a school,” he grumbled in his deep voice.

“I'm nearly thirty sir.”

“That's what I'm saying,” he thundered. “Got no experience, just some piece of paper that says you know what you're doing. You're just cheap labor to them, taking the place of a skilled, tested man.”

I wasn't sure if this was meant to be a personal attack or just a general grumbling against youth. His uninformed attack irked me but I fought the urge to snap back. “Did you know Mr. Kirby?” I asked excitedly. He grunted in confusion. “You know, the gentleman that ran the IT department before me.” This did little to resolve his confusion. “I'm sorry. I thought you might have known Mr. Kirby too. I like swapping stories about him. He taught me much of what I know, groomed me to take over for him.”

“You mean they cut him loose as soon as you were trained,” he incorrectly translated.

“No, no I don't believe so,” I responded. “He was at retirement age. I heard the Dean ask him to stay but he turned it down. It was right when they passed all that anti-smoking legislation and Mr. Kirby said if he couldn't have a cigar at his desk then it was time to leave his desk.”

“That!” he exploded. “Don't get me started on that!”

Now he was really making me nervous. Why was I doing this again? “Then I won't.”

Thankfully no rant was forthcoming. He just paced a little bit before he gave me another Look. “Little old to be hanging out with these kids arentcha? Suppose you got an eye for one of these little girls huh?”

“I have a girlfriend,” I informed. Why does no one think I might have a girlfriend?

“Oh! So you're looking for a trip. You'll be too busy working the bedsprings to supervise the kids!”

Patiently I noted “She's out of town that weekend. It's the only reason I agreed to go.”

“Whatsamatter? My kid's not good enough to you?” he demanded.

I was done. “Sir, if you don't want to trust me with the keys to your cabin, that's fine. I don't mind. Just let me know so we're not wasting our time pretending it's a possibility.”

For a long moment he stared at me. “Those kids bug you all day, don't they?”

I shrugged my shoulders. “Dunno about bug. They keep me busy and I try to keep them busy so they don't keep me too busy.”

He nodded. “I had to test you. Dave's not a bad kid but he'd young so, despite what he thinks about himself, he's still an idiot. In a few years he'll realized that.”

“I realize that about myself,” I agreed.

“Good. I just don't want him to regret too much when he gets to that age, ya unnerstand?” I nodded. “Good.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out a set of keys. “Despite what he thinks, I do want him to enjoy himself. Just not too much because then he might not enjoy himself.”

I grinned. “I unnerstand.”

“And if he enjoys himself too much on my property then he definitely won't enjoy himself.” With a Serious Stare, he handed me the keys.

Do What Now?

“Hey, can I ask a favor?”

I looked up slowly from my papers, staring at Dave as if over glasses I was not wearing. I hoped I looked Rather Serious as I had no clue where this question would lead us. “You can ask,” I slowly replied, emphasizing the word 'ask'.

Apparently the Look had the effect I desired as Dave immediately became more visibly nervous, shuffling his feet and toying with a stray pencil in the mess on my dash. “Well, ya see, remember that day off I got scheduled for next Friday?” I nodded slowly, still wondering where this was headed. “Yeah, well, we're going camping that weekend, me and some of my friends, and, well, I kinda need your help.”

I was still confused. I don't camp. It doesn't appeal to me. Long ago I had a friend talk me into it after months of explaining how awesome it was. I went on a long hike where I saw nothing but trees and got eaten by mosquitoes. The campfire idea sounded fun but it rained that night as well as the bulk of the next day. While I'm sure that every camping trip isn't like that, the experience was miserable enough for me to lose any remaining interest in camping. Without resorting to this level of detail, I briefly explained my lack of qualification, as well as lack of interest in sitting in a field.

Dave quickly explained further. “My folks have a cabin up north that we're going to. My dad was going to go with us but now he has to work. He won't let us go without a responsible adult to supervise.”

Two questions came quickly to mind. Why do you need a chaperone? I'm a responsible adult? I remained confused for a moment until possible reasons began to occur to me. “Does he need someone to guard his liquor cabinet?”

“Mostly I think. He won't give me the keys to the cabin. Can you help?”

I considered this for a moment. Sarah Jean was visiting this weekend so it was unlikely that she'd be back next weekend as well. I should be free and the fresh air would do me some good. It wasn't like I didn't have personal days I needed to use up. “I'll talk to your dad and see what he expects,” I decided.

Dave brightened. “Thank you sir.”

I am clearly too nice.

Let's Be Done With This

I sense your concern. 'Patrick,' you are thinking, 'hadn't you been drinking for some time as well? Were you safe to drive?'

Allow me to further explain my situation. While I had been consuming beer for a prolonged period of time, I had been keeping my own pace, not being influenced by Professor Smith-Smythe's pace. This prevented me from becoming too affected at any particular time. While talking to Jen, I had further slowed my drinking, as I was getting full as well as because it felt weird to be drinking with this student. This allowed my head to further clear and prevented me from saying anything too stupid.

Also don't think that once we decided that I would provide her transport that we immediately rose and entered my car. Did we soon depart the bar? Yes. Did we immediately leave campus? No. I had to return to my office first and take care of a thing or two. Also we had to go that way because my car was over that way.

Big Ken was nice enough to toss us bottles of water as we left so we wouldn't dehydrate on the way there. Can I put my hand on my heart and say that I was stone cold sober when I got behind the wheel? No. Can I say that I had good reason to feel sober and safe? Yes. Between my pace, the time that elapsed between when I stopped drinking and getting to the car, and the rehydrating effects of the water, I did not feel any effects of the alcohol upon me. By that time, the heat was more of an impact upon me than the alcohol had been. While the heat made me tired and sweaty, it did not prevent me from driving safely.

My being coherent is important at this point for more than just the fact that my driving was not impacted. It means that I was at my normal levels of stupidity, unaffected by the stupidity multiplier that is alcohol. It also means that my memory is unaffected. Therefore when I say that I drove Jen the couple miles to her house and dropped her off without even so much as a handshake of physical contact between us, it is not me guessing or believing that these were the events that occurred, it is a statement of fact. I am not interested in debates about personal perspective of events or memory erasers. Why would someone rewrite my memories of that night? What would be the point?

Yet the accusations are out there. I was seen leaving the bar with Jen. Someone took pictures of the event and manipulated them to make it look like our departure was more friendly that it was. To my eyes, they aren't even that well done. Do I know someone who has wasted his life in an attempt to make me look stupid? Yes. Do I really need the help? Of course not.

Sarah Jean, let's just blame this on Eric and move on.