First Impressions

I like to think that I come by my spontaneous-travel-hungry spirit quite honestly. My mom has always had a knack for adventure. Another similarity would be my appreciation of having people around. Comparably to my post-secondary experiences, my mom had a roommate while attending college in the city. They lived in a small apartment, close to school, on the sketchy side of the tracks. My mom and her roommate shared a comfy space and were slowly getting to know their neighbors in the building. A friendly woman lived beside them and a bit of a shaggy fellow lived below. Upon first impressions, the shaggy fellow seemed as sketchy as their side of town.

This shagster quickly regarded my mom and her roomie as potential prey, and was sure to swing by, frequently, for the occasional cup of sugar, egg or anything else he could think up. Of course, this was somehow quite flattering. The more he popped by, the more curious my mom became, and the more Ringo’s intrigue of my mother grew. Within a few weeks, Ringo invited my mom over for supper at his place. She took him up on the offer, insisting that a friend tag along, partly for her own protection and also for potential approval.

Ringo greeted the ladies, eager to impress them and swoon them with charm. He brought them over to his dining room, where a more-than-retro light fixture hung from the ceiling. Hoping to make the ladies smile, even provoke a giggle or two, he picked up the six dollar wine bottle that he had purchased for the affair, rose it above his head and swung it with all of his might, smack into the glass light overhead. In previous experiments, this “trick” had resulted in a random gong of a sound, as it was deemed unbreakable, swinging from its wires, bumping against different parts of the ceiling. This was entertainment at its finest. Unfortunately for Ringo, in this moment of truth, the light did not gong at all, but shattered, everywhere. My mom and her friend gasped in astonished shock, as did their shaggy friend.

Apparently, first impressions aren’t the be all to end all, as my mom not only ended up giving Ringo a chance, but eventually met him on the other side of the aisle.

Oh dad... class act.



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