For the first time in roughly 28 years, I was not present for the first day of school. It was really weird reading so many Facebook statuses (stati?) discussing nerves, disdain, etc. for 7:00 AM on August 29th. Of course, my wife had added reason to dread the first day of school this year. She had the rare opportunity to stay home with our son for the first 13 months of his life, and she hasn't been excited about leaving him for a few minutes let alone several hours at a time, 5 days a week. While it wasn't easy for me to go back to work and leave him each day, she hasn't known life without him since he's been around. As much as I admire her for doing such a great job taking care of him for the past year and change, I also admire her strength in returning to work this year. I can't imagine exactly how difficult it is for her, but I got an idea when she came home today. Our son was nearing the tail end of a 3 hour nap when she got home today. Stepping through the door without a word, she began crying. She made it through the whole day with her game face on, but when she got home it hit home. I hugged her and told her to go up and wake him up, as he had been sleeping long enough. She said she didn't want to wake him, but she would go up just to see him. Sure. I was able to observe both of their faces as he rolled over and woke up, but I could have just looked at one of them and seen the exact same joy. But then some dust got in my eye, so I had to look away. Regardless, it was nice to see their reunion, and the novelty of it isn't likely to wear off.
So what kind of adventure caused my son to sleep for roughly half of the school day? Surely it must have been something quite grand. Nope. We went to a nearby Arby's to wait in line and try to get a voucher for 52 free sandwiches.
The restaurant had gone bankrupt and closed several months ago, brandishing a sign that read "Closed Permanently". Guess not. Someone else bought the building and decided that the area needed roast beef and curly fries. They also elected to offer the aforementioned vouchers to the first 50 customers on the day of their grand opening. Though it was the closest Arby's to us (nearer by roughly .8 miles), my wife and I avoided it because their meat was always so dry. What is the point of investing in a Big Montana (is that still a thing?) if it's going to taste worse than how I imagine Montanan soil to taste? (There is no point; that's the answer.)
After his morning bottle, I packed up and drove the 6 minutes to Arby's. The line spread from the far side entrance, around the front, and through the parking lot. Counting the small children in line, an eyeball's guess put the number of hopeful sandwich-eaters at around 70. This begged the question- how literally would management take "First 50 customers"? Surely they didn't consider infants to be customers. Naturally they would have the common sense to limit one per household. But what of the backlash that they would certainly face from an angry family of 12 bussed in from the city, sporting matching tie dye wolf face t-shirts and beltless acid-washed jeans? While I pondered the issues and my son finished the breakfast bar I brought along for him, the line actually began to grow. Of course people were saving spots in line for late-arriving friends. Of course they were. Would no one step up, speak up and be the line policeman? They would not. It was at this moment that I began picking specific people in line that, regardless of whether or not I got the prized sandwich voucher, I would still be satisfied if they too got shut out.
This brought to mind a similar situation from a few years ago when I was waiting in line for the latest and greatest iPhone. A man in front of me brought along his small child to wait in line with him and serve as proxy to get his wife a new phone. On this day, the line would be policed. Other potential buyers, regardless of their position in front or back of him, cleanly berated this man for exploiting his child in this fashion, even taking a moment to attempt to explain to his progeny what absolute garbage his father was. It gets better. When the man finally got in the store to purchase his phone(s), the cashier discovered that he was only carrying cash. Apparently one could not purchase an iPhone without cash on this day. He was forced out of line (kicking, screaming, and swearing- naturally) and to an alternate counter where he had to first buy gift cards before he would be allowed to buy the phone. I reserved one ear for the scene he was performing while I signed away the next two years of my cellular life. I have no idea if he got an iPhone that day, and frankly, I don't care. It was just nice to see a group of people come together with a common interest. It was also nice to see the guy come unglued and inconvenienced. I just hope his kid has the common sense to run away from home at an appropriate age.
Needless to say, we didn't get our free sandwiches. The line was cut off just a few heads in front of us. Had I not taken the time to dress and feed my son before departing, we would have been successful. We would have also been trashballs. Regrets? Nah. The members of the overenthusiastic first-day crew were calling customers by first name as they delivered orders to the counter and were nice enough to give my son (unsolicited, I assure you) and me coupons for free shakes. My son also again won the unofficial "Best Behaved Small Child In The _______" award, soundly defeating the mulch eating toddler a few spots in front of us. I've got to think he's way ahead on points right now, but we'll see how the rest of the season plays out.
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