I've been forever contemplating how I'll record whats been happening in my life over the last few years. The rapid change, new identities, and new residencies are just the icing on the cake. I think its something worth sharing. In hopes that it could give me light into what I should know, already know, or will know a few more years down the road when I check back at these writings. More or less, it will hopefully help me feel a lot less lonely.
So...what got my ass on blogger.com? Tonight, my father is in jail.
Yeah. The person I've never quite understood, or have been able to sustain a healthy Father-Daughter relationship with scored himself a $35,000 bail and an ungrateful future.
"Oh Johnny, hes a great guy until he starts drinking."
To get the image: 45 year old, high school educated, Italian born, South Philadelphian, Two kids, two divorces, extremely traditional with a heart of gold.
The Evening:
Months earlier, he had acquired a pair a tickets to a Kid Rock concert hosted at the Borgata. With reservations at an excellent Japanese restaurant in hopes of being escorted by his current "lucky lady." At the last minute he invited my mom (first wife. the second one only last 6 months. She was a whack-job anyway.)
Drving down together he called around 4 in the afternoon
"Hey Ash! I'm with you're mother! Happy Valentines day! We're going to see Kid Rock at the Borgata! I've got reservations at a great Japanese restaurant for dinner! Should be good, should be good!"
"Great, Dad have a blast."
"Yeeeah, maybe I'll hit up the casinos and win ya 10 grand! Hehehe"
"Suurrre. Ok Love ya, byee."
Around 11pm:
Its a call from my mother, and she's in tears
She tells me my father apparently was drunk on arrival, at dinner downed two bottles of sake, chased with a few more martini's at the casino and a few more at the concert. He was dancing, bumping into people abruptly and having a great time. It wasn't until he lit up his cigarette in the concert auditorium, and yano... being the "life of the party" he was spotted immediately. The Security guard kindly walked up and asked him to get rid of it and that it was illegal. Dad replies:
"I'm not doing nuthin!"
He then asks again, stating that if he didn't comply, it would escalate into something physical.
Dad's brilliance:
"I paid my 200 ollas, I'm gonna enjoy myself."
Moments later, 3 huge guards begin escorting my father. Being a drunken South Philly Italian with pride, he fights back. My mother, who had kept a decent job of concealing herself from any association notices the brawl and scrambles over to try and rectify the situation. One guard is now on top of my father, while the other two have his arms and legs. Now my Dad begins to choke, and Mom goes ballistic. She jumps the guard and begins defending the embarrassment. At this point the concert crowd is cheering "Get him outta here, throw the bum out!" Two more guards join in and manage to take the party into the lobby. Meanwhile, My father breaks loose and head butts himself into the nearest threat; this one happens to be a police officer. It pretty much ended after that. As my father is handcuffed he looks at my mom and says, "if you tell my fatha I'm gonna kill you."
So that's most of the juice. My mother calls me a half and hour later spills the story in tears as she drives all the way back to Philadelphia, completely embarrassed and in shock. She has work at 9am, and feels that my father should deal with his own shit. She called his brother who called his sister who called his father...yano as quick as news travels in South Philly. His Dad (my grandpa) will deal with his $35,000 bail and current unknown amount of jail-time.
I wrote about this event because for the first time, I feel as if I have no connection to the man behind bars. I'll write more about this paradigm shift in the next entry.
Is his job completely terminated if he doesn't get jail time? Probably. Dammit.
No comments:
Post a Comment