Its All Relative... (thanks for the tip, Bob)

In the summer of 1986, Darren and I were living life strong.  He had gotten me the job at Telecheck the prior year and I had moved into a full-time position.  Just a couple of blocks from the office D was living with Terri Hanko in an apartment, so that became our base, and I was over there a ton.  Besides all the Telecheck football games and Risk with Larry and getting into Romeo and Juliet, on Friday evenings after work we'd join the masses making the crowded trip up Rt. 12 to Wisconsin; our destination, of course, Turtle Lake.  Pete Townsend's Scoop album was the music of choice, which was rare, because Darren never listened to music for more than two weeks before something else grabbed his interest.  

Saturday nights we'd roll into Lake Geneva to enjoy the drinking age of 18 (screwdrivers, so we'd get our Vitamin C) and hang out at City Lights, where all the waitresses were hot and wore light-up dangly earrings, which I thought was pretty sexy.  It was where I taught D how to check girls out through peripheral vision.  I can remember his wonder the first time he caught me doing it, remarking that it was pretty sneaky.  I'm sure you can all guess how far that got us...  

Then, just to make sure no one was confused about us, we'd walk down to the arcade and get our nerd on.  1987 was the summer of Operation Wolf, but for now we played numerous other games and spent numerous quarters.  I bounced between games but Darren's favorite was Tron.  His well-developed "Tron trigger finger" apparently worked on more things than just arcade game controllers, or so he bragged.  Often.  

But I digress...

So one weekend my Grandpa told us that he and Gram had stopped at the Wisconsin Visitor Center on Rt.12 just over the border.  I'm sure he had to make a pit stop; His 69 years starting to catch up to him unfortunately, due to an early cancer battle where they still didn't have a grasp on how to aim radiation, and his pacemaker limiting his energy.  But his mind was still pretty damn sharp, and he always seemed to attract the attention of the pretty girls, so total respect for him.

The conversation went something like this: 

 

Grandpa:  "... I thought you two might like to know there are a couple of hot young chicks working at the Visitor Center"

Us:  "What?  No way!  Thanks for letting us know!"

Grandpa:  "No problem".

 

Of course the two of us tucked that bit of info away for future reference... like the following week.

Friday arrives, we pile into Darren's 1970's light-blue Thunderbird (you know... not the cool 60's T-birds... the big clunky later model ones) and head north once again.  As we get close, we remember what Grandpa told us!  Damn, he is one cool dude!

Bob Troxel showing everyone how to live life...

We probably stopped at Dog and Suds just before the border, then excitedly pushed the T-Bird to the limit for the final mile, accelerating onto the expressway, then just as quickly looping off at the rest stop.  I can vividly remember bounding out of the car and up the sidewalk.  We burst through the doors, eager with anticipation but probably way over our heads and undoubtedly about to make fools of ourselves tripping over our tongues, BUT WE DIDN"T CARE!!!

Just inside the door, we turn to the right, where the desk was.  And there, behind it, was our target.  Two hot young chicks.

 ....also in their late 60's.  

 

"Hello boys... can we help you?"

"uh... no... thanks..."

We turn and bound out the door, this time in reverse.  As we escape to safety and scuttle down the sidewalk back to the car (also a vivid memory), our faces are a mixed bag of laughter and in-credulousness.  My Grandpa, who was renowned for his dry and sneaky wit, had totally played us, and we fell for it.  Needless to say the final 30 minute drive was spent trying to figure out how to save face, and knowing there was no option but to eat our crow dinner.

Grandpa was sitting in his chair in the living room, as usual.  

"Grandpa!  We stopped at the Visitor Center like you told us to do!"

"Was I right?  Those were some pretty hot young chicks, huh?"

And as he would do, Grandpa started snickering like Muttley on the old Wacky Races cartoon.

Oh I want to be just like him when I grow up... and I miss him every day.  And on that day, he won.  Like I said... total respect.