"A Little Seltzer Down Your Pants"

“A Little Seltzer Down Your Pants”

                                               “A little song,

                                                A little dance

 A little seltzer,

         Down your pants.”

                                    -Chuckles the Clown; Mary Tyler Moore Show

“Slow- Curve Ahead.” Unfortunately, not all drivers heed such warnings posted along the highway. The results can be disastrous, especially if the carless culprit loses control of his big rig loaded with discarded waste material from the local rendering plant. First responders surmised the scene may well have been the inspiration for the Boy Scout classic “Slippery, Grimy Gopher Guts.”

An hour earlier, looking at his reflection in the bathroom mirror as he put that last stubborn strand of hair in place, the finishing touch on his lengthy preparation to look good for the interview, Jack could not have imagined his future could be jeopardized by a steamy swath of animal entrails, heads and hooves strewn along the pavement. Three miles of cars at a standstill, and Jack was smack dab stuck in the middle of the biggest traffic jam the city had seen for decades.

Pre-cell phone days. The last exit was four miles behind him, and it was unlikely the cleanup underway ahead would be accomplished any time soon. Panic, anger, frustration, and finally, resignation and acceptance of his plight. Surely the big bosses from Chicago would understand. But… when would they be back in town? They had to be looking at other candidates from across the country. The opportunity would pass, not to revisit him for years. Return to panic, anger, and frustration.

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Jack’s Dad was an attorney. His two older brothers were attorneys. It all seemed predestined.

Jack was cursed with a high IQ and the accompanying burden of high expectations. Stellar grades through high school and college and acceptance at a prestigious Law school. He hated Law School, at least for those sporadic visits he made to the lecture halls. Once Jack discovered that a wonderful company in New York published Cliff Notes-style outlines of every case studied in his courses, he opted for fishing off the lake shoreline or sitting on the library steps watching the hordes of students scurrying about, rather than suffering through endless mind-numbing lectures.

Jack’s brothers were downright giddy at Jack’s post-commencement reception when his Dad asked if he could meet some of his Law School friends, and Jack couldn’t come up with one.

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Jack checked his gas gauge. The only thing worse than his present predicament would be to run out of gas in his present predicament.

He turned on the radio. The crash that ruined his day… perhaps his life… was already on the news. The good news was the driver survived the mishap; the bad news was the freeway wouldn’t open for at least two hours.

----------

Six years in the Legal Department at a Regional Office of a national insurance company. Reviewing contracts contrived by other humans, seeking self-serving interpretations of words and phrases, hoping to stumble across the occasional loophole, all the while hoping to impress. A half-hour drive to and from work, and a five-minute walk from the parking lot to his office, particularly distasteful in the winter months… five days a week, fifty weeks a year. It was life-consuming.

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The path not taken.

“Beer pong.”

“Can’t. I’ve got a test tomorrow.”

“Beer pong.”

“No, I can’t.”

“Beer pong.”

“Well… maybe just for a little, you know, to relax before cramming. What are the stakes?”

“To the death.”

It was real beer pong, ping pong with paddles, not the modern-day version of limp-wristed wusses gingerly flinging the ball toward a cup. Mano a Mano, gladiators vs. the lions, Jack vs. Cal. Whenever the two worst ping pong players in the House squared off, it always drew a crowd.

They immediately bonded freshman year and roomed together the next three. Cal- smart, witty, creative, with an eye on the Entertainment Industry. Jack- Same creative instincts but whose artistic talents were waylaid by familial group-think. They billed themselves as “Gentlemen Songsters on a Spree”, and collaborated on a wide range of artistic endeavors- Fraternity House skits, a play pitting God against Lucifer as the House entry in the College’s Performing Arts Competition (The literary hacks posing as judges failed to see its merits- “It was good… for its level.”), and multiple assignments for Honors English. They would sit at the House basement bar, quaff a few beers, and let their imaginations run wild, or turn it down a notch and quietly create at the lone coffee shop in town. Those were the best of times.

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Like many of his fellow travelers… actually fellow non-travelers… Jack stepped out of his car to stretch his arms and legs. Jack couldn’t help but notice it was a beautiful day- a near-cloudless bright blue sky, temperature in the 70’s, with a slight breeze. He felt relaxed and was somehow able to enjoy the moment. It occurred to Jack that had the day gone as planned, he would be back in his office by midmorning, looking out the window at this beautiful day. The peace was shattered by an angry older gentleman who had no interest in making lemonade out of lemons.

“#@%*! I’ve got an important meeting this morning! Who’s the asshole that shut down the freeway?!”

The guy one lane over and three cars ahead was not happy. The tirade reminded Jack of a bit of wisdom Cal shared with him one night years ago.

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“How do you know it’s a radiator hose, Jack?”

“Because there’s steam everywhere. Don’t you know anything, Cal?”

Sitting on a guardrail under a splash of stars at 3:00 AM, sipping not-so-cold Miller Lites, their 3-day girls’ colleges road trip cruelly interrupted by a faulty radiator hose, the adventuresome duo made the most of their situation.

“Nice night, Jack.”

“I guess.”

“Life is just dandy if you just let it be.”

----------

 Jack noticed the girl in his review mirror. She looked pretty cute. Is that a sad face? Of course, she’s upset. Who wouldn’t be? Jack thought maybe he’d saunter on back to her car, and impart a message of patience and cautious optimism, a little “your glass is half-full” philosophy.

She was wearing a business suit. Probably made good money. Holy crap! She was driving a Beamer!

 Romance has been kindled in lesser circumstances. He could imagine the sub-heading on the highway crash story- “Finding Love in the Carnage.” A couple of deep breaths and Jack was headed for the Beamer. The amorous adventure ended abruptly when Jack noticed two small children in the back seat.

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Jack recalled those glorious road trips with Cal as they sought love in all the right places- exclusive girls' colleges populated by the daughters of rich people. Jack once asked the parish priest if it would be a sin to marry for money.

“Yes, my son, that wouldn’t be right. But it's not a sin to date only rich girls.”

Half in jest, that was their mantra, their modus operandi, their plan, marry rich and enjoy life. Unfortunately, they went zero for as many times as they tried. But the memories of their fruitless efforts still brought a smile to Jack’s face. It was the best of times.

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The opportunity was substantial. Jack would have to move to Chicago, but his salary would double and his status would soar. He could only imagine the size and décor of his new office. His Dad would be so proud.

The longer commute to work would be a pain, but he’d get used to it. He’d have more responsibility and the stress that would come along with it, but the money! But… those contracts… the paperwork…. meetings with the sole subject matter of jacking up revenue… and continuing those efforts to impress.

The ad on the radio about a new TV show brought a bit of added discomfort to the scene. Jack recalled the night before graduation.

---------

“That’s your plan?”

“That’s right, Jack. I’m going to LA, and we’ll see what happens.”

“What if you don’t land a writing job?”

“It’ll be fun trying.

Fun. That’s what those four years had been- fun. Jack enjoyed the bantering with Cal, the bouncing ideas off each other, the fanciful plot ideas, the bizarre characters, putting their ideas to paper, creating something out of nothing.

“You should come with me, Jack. Who knows? We might make it writing TV shows or movies, and we’d be doing what we like to do.”

“Oh, my God, my Dad would have a cow.”

The look stayed with Jack for years.

“It’s your life, Jack. What the hell are you going to do with a Law Degree? Sit in some fancy office downtown, prance around in a courtroom like a big shot spewing a bunch of crap, always keeping one eye on the meter. It’s all fake bullshit, Jack. Don’t do it.”

“No… it provides a valuable…”

“You know that song, ‘They’re all made of ticky-tacky and they all look the same’? It’s really not about houses. It’s about the people, the ones in suits flowing down the freeway to their offices like a bunch of lemmings, sitting behind a desk working on the same boring crap every day, fifty weeks a year, hoping someone retires or dies so they can move up the ladder. Once you get on that treadmill, you’re going to have a tough time getting off. Don’t do it, Jack.”

“Don’t you want some security in life, Cal?”

“I want life out of life, Cal. I want to live doing what I like to do.”

Cal never ventured onto the conformity side of the ledger.

“You’ve got to goose the system every so often, Jack. Do something wild and crazy, out of the ordinary, just to make sure you’re still alive.”

The morning after graduation, just before he got into his parents’ car, Cal turned to Jack and left him with his favorite saying, the keystone of his approach to life, his North Star.

“Remember, Jack, sometimes everyone needs a little seltzer down their pants.”

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No movement in the cars ahead, but Jack’s head was spinning. Insurance contracts, long commutes, competing with a bunch of sycophants for their boss’s favor, tied to a desk all day, boredom following more boredom. The road ahead promised even more of the same.

Jack smiled, then laughed, and finally a couple of tears. It hit him like a thunderbolt. He knew what he needed. It had been many years, but he remembered. He got out of his car, hopped up on the hood, raised his arms, and shouted to the curious onlookers.

“A little seltzer down your pants!!”

Energized, Jack got back in his car, executed a quick U-Turn over the grassy median, and headed west… for California.