Sunday, May 4, 2008

Day Eight (part 2): Best Effort Goes Awry

So Jack's Troop had a "mandatory family social event" this afternoon -- a 4 p.m. IMAX show at the Fleet Science Center. I dosed Charlie up on Tylenol, negotiated a Domino's Pizza dinner with Tim, nagged and cajoled the other 2 kids into the car, and even put on make-up.

First Omnious Sign: Our family membership and IMAX vouchers expired, yes, 4/30/2008.

Second Inauspicious Sign: Crazy-bad traffic on the 5-South and into Balboa Park. Ahhh, some type of fair/festival today. This translated into equally-horrendous parking availability.

Third Weird Sign: Jack and Jamie sent to locate the group, who was to be picnicking en masse. Twice. I thought I recognized a dad from the Troop, but after blatantly staring at him and saying in a loud voice next to him, "I wonder where the other families from the Troop are?" with not a blink of recognition, I assumed I was wrong.

After 20-minutes wandering around the fountain/entrance area (again, during a festival!), I figured we'd move the clan toward the restrooms and into queue.

It wasn't until we reached the line that I recognized a couple of folks; however, we were a few sections back in the labyrinth line-up. Once nearing the ticket-taker, it became evident the Allbritton party of 5 was mandated to sit in the "child section" (aka, lower-left quadrant). Alas, the gathering of scouts and parents was already ensconced in the upper section of the IMAX theatre.

Fourth Sign of Things to Follow: Charlie shrieks, "Danger! Danger!" upon the usher directing us to our section. Because this always happens to me, 2 guests mistakenly landed in the "child section" --directly in front of Charlie's flailing arms and legs -- and proceeded to make ugly comments about the child behind them (Charlie), who I might add WAS IN THE DESIGNATED LOCATION FOR CHILDREN. Meanwhile, Tim did a quick head/hair touch just to keep Jack and Jamie primed for annoyance. When I made him move next to me, he slammed his hip into the narrow seat and hollered, "OUCH!" in his best puberty-cracking, autism voice of impending peril. This caused another family (notably in the correct seating zone) to stand up and move a whole seat down from us. Oooooo, hurt me, as I've still got to contend with the 2 bitties in front of me.

Fifth Indication that the End Is Near: Charlie is now pacing up and down three steps by my seat. The disembodied, amplified female automatron voice instructs everyone to turn off their cell phones and that's all she needed to say. Charlie, clearly wildly offended by such a mandate, announces, "Danger...Danger...I need to go out!" He gets his wish. Next demand: "Hold me, scary-scary-scary movie."

Within 3-minutes of frantic "Exit! Go out!" and realizing that he's NEVER going to recover, I send a little usher-teen in to direct my other 3 out and we are refunded our vouchers -- for another fun-filled IMAX experience in the future!

Introspective Portion of this blog (Better savor it, folks, it won't happen with any great regularity!):
Frustrated with being in a troop for 1-year-plus and being so evidently not-a-fit with the crowd. Sad that my son (Jack) knows no one well enough to go join in -- and escape his desperately unfit-for-public-outings family. Bemused that I'm obviously the last sucker who thinks "mandatory" means you HAVE to go. Faced again with the cruel (and yet always stunning) reality that autism is so freaking isolating, even among a crowd. And, of course, disappointed that Joe Q. Public has no idea how brave and noble I was for trying to take my quartet to do something so ordinary as go to a 40-minute movie. Slightly depressing to realize how it's just this kind of thing that makes up the truly great sacrifices of deployment: the stuff you stop trying to do because you're a-l-o-n-e.

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Well, that sucks, but I admire you for the effort. I have been lucky, because though we ar isolated, we have formed a Wardroom of sorts and a "normal" deployment family. What can I tell you, but that I admire you for the effort.

I got a great appreciation for the grunts on the ground today wearing boady armor for the majority of the afternoon. It weighs over 60 pounds,a nd needless to say the Carolina afternoon was warm. Everything is harder--I mean everything. Besides that, I looked sexy. Pictures to follow.

Keep it up, babe. Love, Ben