I remember this specific Saturday in Junior High like it was yesterday. That is quite a feat considering my inability to remember yesterday the majority of the time. I would be an interrogators dream. “What do you mean you can’t remember what you did yesterday woman? Don’t make me hang you from the ceiling by your toenails. Speak!” So, remembering a random Saturday some sixteen years ago is nothing short of a miracle.
On that particular Saturday, my mother was doing her very motherly-duty of hauling our ungrateful, spoiled little selves to ice-skating class. This Saturday was different though. This Saturday my brand-new friend Megan was coming along with us. I am not sure whose idea of a good time riding 60 miles to watch someone else ice-skate was, but we went with it. I guess that beat the other available options in our no-name town on a Saturday afternoon, like watching paint dry.
I was nervous about hanging out with my new friend. She was funny and I was, well, not. I tried though; I tried what could be classified as a little too hard. About 8 miles out of town, I spotted a little ma-and-pa style resort on the north side of the road. How come I had never noticed such an odd little place? “Megan, look! That place is called Linger Longer Resort. Who would name something Linger Longer?” I cackled, hoping Megan would appreciate my humor. Silence ensued. “Um, yeah, that is my Grandpa and Grandpa’s resort” Megan causally said.
I think I fainted and blacked-out for a quick moment, so I don’t recall the blubbering, awkward, apologizing that followed.
About 35 miles further down the road, I regained my confidence and my spunk. Simultaneously, I realized that we were quickly approaching a house that I always gawked at on my weekly trip. “Megan, oh my gosh! Seriously, you HAVE to see this house. They have animals running all over their yard, not like dogs, like barnyard animals IN THEIR FRONT YARD. It’s like the freaking animal farm.” Megan crinkled her nose and giggled a nervous, fake, giggle. “Um, yeah, that is my other Grandma and Grandpa’s house.”
I think I fainted again and I am almost certain I died just for a quick moment before I was speedily revived to face the embarrassment of trying to remove the foot that had permanently taken up residence in my mouth.
That, Ladies and Gentleman, was the official start to one of my greatest friendships of all time. Apparently the key to any true, long-lasting friendship starts with an obnoxious trashing of ones family. Last weekend, I was able to join in celebrating Megan’s 30th birthday. We have now officially been friends for more of our life than we haven’t and that is something I truly cherish. I contemplated getting all mushy and professing my undying thankfulness for Megan's friendship, but that seemed, well, too expected.
My second thought was to honor her by proving a catty recap of the activities surrounding the 30th birthday party. However, very few of those details are suitable for publishing on this here family-friend blog. What kind of company have I been keeping? All I have to say is that it was the first time I was ever threatened by someone to “Go all Chris Brown on my ass.”
With that my dear Megs, Happy Birthday. Here is to the next 30!