The Field Trip

We got off the bus holding hands, Archer and his classmates in their matching tee-shirts, and we followed each other down Santa Monica Blvd, past an old Russian couple playing chess and a transvestite hooker and a homeless man kicking dirt off his shoes. We filed into the West Hollywood Fire Station, Archer yanking my arm. Come on in, they said.

"Not many kids around here," one of them said.

"We don't get many schools," another fire fighter explained.

"Because, you know, it's West Hollywood."

"Yeah," the other firefighter chimed in. "You know..."

They didn't really know what to do with us, a dozen and a half kids from two classes, all in matching tee-shirts howling to get a better look at the fire-trucks.

"Cuck!" Archer shouted. "Reeeeeed. Cuck!"

I stood quietly with the several other parents in attendance. The teachers. Archer never letting go of my hand.

Finally one of the teachers suggested a firefighter go down the fireman's pole. The firefighters agreed and one of them disappeared into the station while we all gathered around, our heads upward, watching,


Waiting.

Staring at....

Uh...

A ten foot poster of a topless Budweiser model, clutching her bare bosom, in a thong bikini bottom (circa 1994?). Her asscheeks were a good four feet across. A good luck charm for the firefighters as they went down the pole I figured. Some "go get 'em. boys" eye-candy for the road.

"Nice poster," I blurted out. "Really solid work, guys...."

I soon realized this was not the appropriate handling of such a situation. I was calling attention to something awful. Something unexpected on a field trip for preschoolers. Looks were flashed my way. I suddenly remembered where I was.

"I mean.... What? I don't see any poster..."

I was busted. I slumped against the back of the garage and waited to be carted off to detention, before remembering that I'm the disciplinarian, now. I'm the authority. Except for some reason, unable to grasp this reality, I got the giggles. The crazy kind of church giggles you get as a kid and you can't stop...

Of course, no one was as amused as I. I gave one of the fireman a nod. He smiled awkwardly back at me. I thought about what he said, about no kids in West Hollywood. I thought about the transvestite hooker we passed and the homeless man with the dirt in the shoes and how we all held hands and no one said anything. How there are so many explicit details of city living and yet, here we were under a half-naked model in the middle of a fire station and: Outrage.

The children continued to wait, their eyes searching the giant model ass-crack for some sign of a firefighter.


Until finally, he emerged, sliding down the pole, past the giant bare-woman-ass, landing with a "ta-dah!" on the oil-stained cement. Apparently he hadn't recognized the discomfort on all (save for one) the parent's faces

We were all directed to the other side of the station after that, and eventually, we joined hands again and made our way back to the bus-stop, passing another couple of tranny-hookers, little blue tee-shirts all in a tidy line. (Madeline meets Hedwig and the Angry Inch, what a mash-up that would be!)

The bus arrived and our blue line filed aboard. Archer climbed onto my lap and we moved together, swayed, over potholes, across intersections, me clutching my baby, who I am meant to protect, cover his eyes when naked posters cross his path, or at the very least, not call attention to them. Not laugh and point like some kind of child. Like the crazy-aunt the with wild hair and the rainbow tights who can't make a good first impression with mother-types to save her life.

"Look! A naked lady, kids! Ahahahahaha!"

I'm a grown-up! I'm a grown-up! I'm a grown-up! I'm a grown-up! I'm a grown-up! I whispered against the window, combing Archer's hair with my hands. Until...

"Cock!" Archer said, pointing at a dead sock on the floor of the bus by my feet.

"Sock," I corrected.

"Cock!"

"Okay, fine. Yes. Cock. There's a cock on the floor."

Archer nodded. "Hi, Cock!" And I chuckled quietly to myself. Screw being a grown-up! Screw being a grown up! Screw being a grown-up! Screw being a grown-up!

Because the thing about it is? Life's too comedic to keep a straight face, even if 98% the time no one else thinks it's funny.

GGC