Make New Memories

I don't know what the temperature was when I drove back from New Jersey after visiting my parents for a couple of days. It was well over 100 degrees outside, and with no air conditioning in sluggish traffic, it felt like a hundred more in the small cab of my little pickup. My shirt was soaked through with warm sweat, and the stagnant air had the vague smell of cat piss — courtesy of the tomcat that lives in my parking garage. I thoroughly cleaned the car several months ago and seemed to have the cat piss taken care of, but it seems it had only been hiding.

It took about three hours to get back to Brooklyn, which is par for the course in the summertime.

I went inside, peeled away my sticky, stinky clothes, and hopped in the shower.

The water coughed out in spurts, then gave a few dry heaves and quit altogether.

No water.

The water pump in our building is unreliable. We complain and get told it's fixed about once a month. I kept checking it very couple of minutes, but finally gave up and instead just stood naked in front of the air conditioner. Once dry, I collapsed on the bed and fell asleep.

Without realizing it, I'd left the water tap on and woke up to the sound of a faint stream of water pulsing into the sink. I shut off the kitchen tap and then went into the bathroom for another try at the shower. Water trickled out weakly, as if the shower had prostate trouble. I stepped into the stall and rinsed off as best I could, then got dressed and went outside in search of some dinner. (With Deborah away, there was no food in the house, of course.) I walked about a half block before I was completely soaked through with sweat again.

Deborah returned from her family visit in Pennsylvania the following day, and I drove to JFK airport to meet her. More cat piss and traffic.

The drive to the airport wasn't half bad, but the drive home was a nightmare. It took us nearly three hours to drive 17 miles. Deborah didn't mind. She was just happy to be home and used the time stuck in traffic to regale me with tales of her family visit.

Deborah and a few of her relatives went to Kennywood, an old amusement park near Pittsburgh that's been around since 1898 and, according to Wikipedia, is one of only two amusement parks listed in the National Register of Historic Places. They originally planned to go on the Fourth of July to see the fireworks, but went on the Fifth instead, which was probably just as well since the park was crowded enough as it was.

Deborah, her cousin Katy, Katy's husband James, and their 14-year-old son Zach took a ride on a water ride called Raging Rapids, where riders are seated in a round tube-like flotilla, six seats facing in a circle. Two gangly, somewhat nerdy, teenage boys filled out the raft, and off they went. "Waterfalls, geysers and even water guns from onlookers drench riders as they traverse the course down a beautiful river canyon..."

After one particularly rough patch of "whitewater," Katy pointed out to Deborah that Deborah's top was down, completely exposing her bare breasts. While Deborah fixed her shirt, James said to the two red-faced teenagers, "That'll be five bucks."

All anyone has to do is look at my Flickr account to know that Deborah has no problem revealing her breasts, and nudity causes her no embarrassment, but it's hard not to feel a little awkward when everyone around you is beet-red. Deborah laughed and shrugged, and looked at the boys as if to say, "Oh well, whatever, moving right along," but neither of them could look her in the eye. Not then, nor for the duration of the ride. She passed them later in the day, and one nudged the other, "There she is."

"Just think," I said to Deborah when she told me the story, "You're now a part of these kids' mythologies. They will be remembering that moment for the rest of their lives. Or at least until they get girlfriends."

Kennywood Park's tagline is "Make New Memories." Their website invites visitors to contribute stories of first kisses or first dates.

"Did you meet your husband or wife while working at Kennywood? Did your parents bring you to school or company picnics when you were a child? Thousands of folks have a favorite Kennywood memory to tell. May we hear yours?"

Ha.