It’s Easter, and all the decent people can begin carrying white purses and wearing white shoes again without dirty looks from the old ladies at church. There will be ham today, in some form, and our family will take some time to reflect and remember why we celebrate this day of renewal. Easter represents everything good to me – the flowers are starting to bloom and it’s warmer than the dark side of the moon in most of the inhabitable places where we’ll be traveling for at least the next four months. Also, ham. Did I mention ham?
Spring break is also the time of year that decent people are forced to put up with vacationing hoards of half-naked drunk people carousing about like there is no longer any law or regard for general person whatsoever. Anyone who has attempted to travel faster than four miles an hour on I-75 South through Georgia on a Good Friday can attest to this. People lose their minds. I think they know they’re going to church on Easter Sunday to repent, so they act like they need Jesus for the week preceding to make it worth their while.
We are in Ohio for Easter this year, and admittedly, there are few Spring Breakers to deal with. Dayton, Ohio, is not a super busy spot for these rabble-rousers because the median temperature this time of year is “damp,” and more than six seconds of sunlight is a precious commodity here until mid July. Suffice it to say that people who end up in Dayton for spring break are probably at the very least spatially challenged and possibly suffering the effects of oxygen deprivation.
But we do have basketball, and believe it or not, there are people who will actually travel on vacation to see basketball games. I know this to be fact because we met one of them.
Apparently, George just looks like he knows where he’s going, because even when we’re in our personal vehicle, people ask him for directions all the time. He was getting gas at Speedway — a young guy wanders up holding a map.
“Hey man, we’re looking for UD Arena, you know where that is?”
George took his map and pointed to it.
“You’re close. Take 70 to 75, follow it around, you can’t miss it.”
The kid just stared at George. I hate to be judgmental, but he looked like he didn’t have the sense God gave a strawberry-flavored gummi bear.
“So, what road are we on now?”
George patiently showed him on the map again.
“This is 444. You go back to the exit, right there, get on 70 going West.”
The kid nodded like he understood, but I’m pretty sure he didn’t understand.
“Thanks man. We’ve never been here before, just trying to catch the game – Go Flyers!”
George pretended to be excited, and said, “Go Flyers!” even though I’m pretty sure he had no idea they were playing in an NCAA game that day, nor did he care. He got back into the car shaking his head.
“He’ll never find it.”
So he did his good deed for the day and led the kid to the highway and got him at least pointed in the right direction. We’ll never know if he made it to the game, but we do know there’s at least one person who willingly spent his spring break in Dayton, Ohio. Bless his heart.
Happy Easter from the Parker Family.