The old block

Howdy folks, and welcome to another word-filled installment of UOPTA. "Fun-filled" just sets the expectations too high, but you can't really argue with "word-filled," can you? I'm all about accuracy.

My parents were out of the country on vacation a couple of weeks ago, and I started writing a post that nicely poked fun at my dad during that time. I figured it was the right time to do it so that I wouldn't see an email a few minutes after I published calling me a "no good little shit" or something similarly flattering. After getting most of the way through it though, I realized that it would make a little more sense to save it for the Friday right before Fathers' Day. Yeah, I put the apostrophe after the S even though my calendar seems to think the day is only special for one father. So, without further ado (since I've already adone enough), here's what I wrote plus a good deal more. Enjoy.

My father, the wonderful man that he is, falls asleep rather easily. My brother and I spoke about this at a roast in my father's honor last December, but I'll rehash a little of it in this medium as well. Growing up, our family of four would all be sitting close to the tv as the Lakers tried holding onto a one point lead in the playoffs with fifteen seconds left to play. I'd look over at my dad, and sure enough, his eyes would be closed. These were some of the tensest moments of my youth, and he'd be blissfully unaware. I'd nudge my brother or mom and nod in my dad's direction, and they'd give me the, "He's at it again" smile and headshake.

The very best example of his spontaneous sleep happened while playing Tetris on our home gaming system. I'm sorry, let me be a little clearer: it happened while he was playing Tetris on our home gaming system. The other three of us were behind him, watching him play (at a sub-par level to yours truly, naturally). A piece started to fall slowly down the center of the screen. Instead of rotating and moving left or right, the piece continued dropping at its slowest pace right down the center until it landed on some other pieces waiting at the bottom. It wasn't at all where the piece should've gone, so either Kevin or I said, "Dad?" He sat up a little straighter and said, "Oh! Oh!" in a clearly surprised tone. "Did you fall asleep?" we asked superincredulously. He confirmed that he had indeed, and so grew the legend of Paul's slips into unconsciousness.

We made fun of this and other incidents for years and years, imitating the "Oh! Oh!" whenever possible - even if it didn't fit with our topics of conversations; it was just fun. Here's where the real hypocrisy lies: I'm just as bad as my father. For years and years, my friends have poked fun at what they affectionately refer to as "Pete's narcolepsy." (Fortunately, there's no T and only one E in 'narcolepsy,' so 'Peter' is nowhere to be found in that word.)

The first example of this that comes to mind was during a class trip to Spain when I was in high school. We were on a little dinner cruise watching some flamenco dancing show to soak up some of the local flavor. It was the loudest music and stomping I'd ever experienced in my life, and I dealt with it by falling asleep. My friend Dusty couldn't believe what he was seeing, because it seemed literally impossible to him that the cacophony of the dancers and various percussion items wouldn't keep even the most sleep-deprived individual awake. What can I say, I was tired.

There are many more examples from college. I took Astronomy 1 during the second quarter of my first year, and it was rough. First of all, I ended up majoring in English and minoring in Spanish, so it's safe to say that this course in the Physics department wasn't anywhere near my wheelhouse. However, I learned one very important thing from the class: 2:00-2:50pm isn't my prime operating time. I had five friends in the class and we all thought the teacher was hilarious, yet neither of those things kept me from falling asleep in roughly 80% of those lectures. It just happened, and usually within two minutes of me rubbing my eyes. (Much like people have triggers with migraines, rubbing my eyes is my faux-narcolepsy trigger.) Needless to say, my grade could've been a little higher in that class.

I'm more of a morning person than any of my friends, and while I tried using my early waking hour as justification for these sleep fits, that really wasn't it. Like my father, when I'm tired, I can easily fall asleep. I don't need to be terribly comfortable either. In fact, for Dusty's 21st birthday, a bunch of friends stayed in a cabin in Lake Tahoe. It was late and I was tired, so even though everyone around me was chatting and laughing, I fell asleep. Oh yeah, I was lying on a flight of stairs. Rather than wake me by any conventional means, my friends thought it made more sense to try balancing water bottles on my sleeping head. They got one on with no problem, but adding another to it (and making a kind of human Jenga game out of me) didn't work as well.

Messing with me while sleeping ended up becoming something of a hobby for these friends. They banged pots and pans in my face, and in a stroke of evil genius, banded together to pick up and move my old Toyota Corolla.

A year or so after graduation, I was living with Dusty and Jon in downtown Santa Barbara. One night, after several drinks and countless stupid stories, Dusty and I played a basketball video game on our Sega Dreamcast console. We played it fairly often, mainly because we'd created our own characters that actually looked like us (but were 6'8 and amazingly gifted). "I'm tired," I told him early on, letting him know that I was going to stop playing possibly before the end of the game. Somewhere in the second quarter, he yelled at me. "Dawg! Dawg! Wake up Dawg!" I opened my eyes, and there, standing by himself at half court and dribbling the ball was my electronic counterpart. "Sorry," I said, and I passed the ball. The same thing happened in the third quarter, but in an even more embarrassing fashion. I was dribbling down the court from left to right, and even though my eyes closed and I began nodding off, my fingers held their position and my character kept on running right until he was out of bounds. "Dawg!" Dusty yelled. "Sorry," I said again. I paused the game, washed my face, brushed my teeth, and finished the game. The whole time, I was thinking to myself, "Oh my god, I'm turning into my dad." Not in a "I don't want to be like him" sense, but more of a "Now I can't make fun of him" way instead.

In recent years, I've been a little better. Although, I seem to remember missing key moments of Alias episodes when it was on. I'd be fighting the whole show to stay awake, and then I'd hear my lovely wife say, "Well that was interesting." "Yeah," I'd say, completely unaware of what she was talking about. Five seconds later, I'd fess up: "What exactly was interesting?" "Did you fall asleep?" she'd ask. "Yeah, I guess so." We'd discuss what I remembered from the show, and usually that amounted to only the first ten minutes of the hour-long spy drama.

And then, within the past week, my flash-sleeping stuck again. This one was bad, and I'm ashamed to say that I may have taken the reigns from my dad in this category. We've all fallen asleep while reading many times, right? The eyelids get heavy, and then the book starts to slip or it even falls completely on your chest. Well, I fell asleep while reading...aloud. Yep, Peter Klein, ladies and gentlemen! I was reading a funny short story out loud in bed to my lovely wife, as I do from time to time. I noticed that I was getting pretty tired, but didn't make much of it and kept going. Then, Amber asked me a strange question: "What happened?" "Hmm?" I asked. "You just stopped reading," she said. I was about to tell her that I had just been thinking about something, but I realized that the "thinking" was actually more along the lines of what we call "dreaming." Before I could own up to it, she asked, "Did you fall asleep?" I could hear the smile in her voice, and it was completely deserved. I admitted what had happened, and the smile turned into a full-on laugh.

So Dad, as a strange sort of Fathers' Day gift, please accept my apologies for making so much fun of you for falling asleep all those times. I may not look much like you, enjoy all of the same foods that you do, or have your gift of balance, but I got your rapid sleeping ability in spades.

Now let's slide on over to the Car Watch section.

My homey Rockabye saw a plate the confused him a bit, and he knew just where to send it. (Answer: ptklein@gmail.com) It read, "(Heart) LUV 22." He pointed out that with the heart and "luv" that the driver really, really felt fondly about the number 22. I see it similarly but a little differently. What he have here folks is a clear case of Visual Stuttering. This person just wanted to say, "Love to!" as in the response to an intriguing invitation. However, because of his/her oral stuttering problem, the DMV employee heard "Love Love Two Two" and incorrectly guessed how the driver wished to have that phrase represented. Therefore, Visual Stuttering. My heart goes out to all VS victims.

Lastly, I saw a big truck with "BLT 4FN" as its license plate. At first glance, it may appear that this person and/or his car were "built for fun." Being a Car Watch expert though, I can see through the obvious choice and find out what's really going on here. His home conversations go a little like this:

Woman: Honey, is everything ok?
Man: I guess, I'm just...bored and it's bringing me down.
Woman: Well I think I know just the thing to turn that frown upside down.
Man: You do?
Woman: Oh yeah. Hey, what's that in my hand? It couldn't be...a tomato, could it?
Man: (sitting up eagerly) Is it? Is it?
Woman: Uh huh. But what goes with this tomato? Surely not this...bacon over here.
Man: Yes it does! Yes it does!
Woman: But those two aren't enough for a sandwich.
Man: (bouncing up and down on the couch cushions) No they're not! No they're not!
Woman: I wonder if there's anything in this drawer here to add to our current ingredients.
Man: (whispering to himself) Please be lettuce, please be lettuce, please be lettuce.
Woman: (raising her arm triumphantly) Lettuce!
Man: LETTUCE!!! (He leaps up off the couch and begins circling it while making whooping noises and riding an imaginary horse.) B-L-T! B-L-T! B-L-T!

And...scene.

That's it for now, but before signing off, I've got a bunch of Happies to dish out. Happy Friday the 13th to everyone and Happy Half-Birthday to my loving mother-in-law. Happy Flag Day tomorrow, and please flag responsibly. And on Sunday, I want to wish a Happy Fathers' Day to all the dads out there, but especially my own, my grandpa, and my favorite brother. Last but certainly not least by any stretch of the imagination, Happy 39th Anniversary this Sunday to my parents. Have a great weekend and week, friends.