Rotten Memories

Why didn’t anyone tell me it was summer?

When I was a kid, the advent of summer vacation was heralded by the end of school and a whole two, or sometimes even three, months of freedom. The freedom to do whatever I wanted every hour of every day of the week until school would once again rear its ugly head sometime in September and suck my unwilling body back into its annoyingly educational embrace. Back then, summer meant long days of fun in the sun with my friends with nary a care in the world. My days spent on the beach, my nights out on the town with close friends and every day another wonderful adventure with all the beautiful people I knew. Ah summer, what a wonderful time.

Ah, bullpoop.

I don’t know how or when my real memories of summer were glazed over with these happy-go-lucky false imaginings, but it seems as if my own mind is trying to brainwash itself into recalling things about my younger days that never actually happened. I don’t know about you, but when I was a kid summer meant one of two things; being sent away for two months of sleepaway summer camp, or two months of absolutely nothing to do!

And, as we all know, boredom is evil.

Stripping away all the varnish from my memories, I’m getting a clearer picture of what summer was REALLY like for me as a kid. For one thing, I was a kid. And being a kid meant that most of New York was closed to me. No bars, no clubs, not even some back-room poker games with knife fights breaking out like zits on a nervous high school boy.

Also, as a kid, I had no job.

That means I had no money. And no money in New York means you can’t go anywhere or do anything. You can’t afford to see a movie. You can’t afford to buy a toy. And forget about asking out that cute girl down the block. Hell, you can’t even buy food for yourself let alone the girl you’re trying to impress. Now, I ask you, what kind of sick summer vacation memory is that for a young boy to have?

“So, did you enjoy our first date Suzie?”
“Well, I’m glad you asked me out GeekMan, but I can’t help but wonder if this date might have been better if we had, you know, gone somewhere or done something besides walk around my block and talk about the Thundercats for four hours.”
“Well, I wanted to take you to a movie…”
“That sounds wonderful! Let’s go!”
“We can’t.”
“Why not?”
“No money.”
“Well, I’m sure your allowance…”
“No allowance.”
“Well, that’s alright, I guess. We don’t need to see a movie as long as we have a nice time together. And I did have a nice time, even if you are a bit… strange. But just now I’m a little bit hungry.”
“Well…”
“Oh no. Don’t say it.”
“It’s not my fault! Do you know how much a Happy Meal costs? I’m not made of money, you know! I’m only 10!”
“Sigh. My mother was right.”
“It’s not my fault.”
“All of ten and already a loser.”
“It’s not my fault.”
“Take me home.”
“Ok.”
“Oh, and GeekMan?”
“Yeah?”
“The Thundercats suck.”
[sob]