The FICTION Part (majorly abridged): From The Name on my Heart (Lainey's Bridge series): Lainey goes to the mall with her buddy Ryan to help him Christmas shop for his mom and girlfriend. Lainey ends up purchasing a gift that's awkward to transport and the consequences are rather humorous.
The TRUTH Part: I was a senior in high school, so it was late 1985 or early 1986, and my life-long buddy (at the time, anyway--we've lost touch over the years, and since I don't have his permission to tell this story, I'll just call him "Ben.") and I were at the mall one cold, rainy evening. He had picked me up in his sporty coupe, probably to avoid being seen in my ride--the family station wagon.
After a nutritious dinner of mall food, we began our shopping spree. Actually, we were there for one specific reason, but we got sidetracked when we passed the Chicago Shop. I don't remember if that's what it was really called, but it was a store full of clothes and other items, all having to do with Chicago in some way (I grew up in suburban Chicago).
Ben was looking at Bulls shirts and stuff, which didn't interest me much. I wandered over to souvenir type things and browsed for a bit. Suddenly, a stunningly beautiful sight caught my eye. I was enthralled with the huge, framed poster of a breathtaking photo of the Chicago skyline. I had never seen a picture quite like it.
I thought immediately of a guy I was a bit crazy over (uh, somewhat similar to Lainey's "Andrew Clarke") and how often he had said he wanted to see Chicago (okay, so it was the guy from the "bowels" of the basement, if you saw that video, so I shall call him "Basement Guy."). He was from a small town and kinda wanted out.
"It's absolutely perfect!" I said absentmindedly to Ben as he, Air Jordan shirt slung over his shoulder, ambled over to where I stood.
He gave me the very familiar "I'll never understand what you're talking about as long as I live" look and waited for my explanation.
"For [Basement Guy]!" I offered, slightly annoyed, with my "I'll never understand why you can never understand what I'm talking about" look.
His expression didn't change.
Sighing, and beginning to feel a little foolish, I continued, "He's always wanted to see Chicago. He could hang this up . . . as a . . . [Ben's eyebrows rose at this point] . . . well, as a reminder of one of his goals in life. To see a big city."
He just shook his head. "It's your money."
"Thanks, Dad."
Walking around the mall with this monstrous framed poster was a rather humiliating feat. My so-called friend offered no support, making it known he felt I had brought this all on myself. Finally, when my fingers were so cramped from gripping the poster at awkward angles, I swallowed my pride and asked him to hold it for awhile.
He agreed without giving me too much grief.
After our shopping mission was complete, we walked to the car in the parking lot. His car.
Remember I said it was a coupe? You know: The kind with two seats. In the Front. No back seat.
Tiny, tiny car.
There may have been a small trunk, I don't remember. But there was certainly no space for a humongous framed, non-flexible poster. No, siree! Of all the times for me to ditch the family station wagon . . .
Ben looked at me as though I should have all the answers. "Now what, smart stuff?"
"What?!" was my brilliant answer, as though I had no idea there was a problem.
He just stared at me, a smug smile on his face.
I was astute enough to know this wasn't the time to point out he hadn't foreseen this detail, either. Deciding to try meekness instead, I sheepishly returned his smile with a mild grimace. "I guess I didn't think this through all the way." Was I going to have to return it?
"We'll have to tie it to the roof of the car. There's no other way," was his quick reply. "I'll go back in and see if Carson's has some twine or something. Stay here."
I didn't have much choice. I didn't want to carry the stupid poster back into the store only to bring it right back out again.
The car was parked close to the store, under a bright light, so I wasn't afraid. But I did feel really stupid standing there with my poster when people walked by. I was sure they were pointing at me and laughing. After all, being a teenager and all, I was keenly aware that people don't generally stand in a mall parking lot holding a gigantic poster. I didn't understand yet that it doesn't matter much what other people think about stuff like that.
Thankfully, it was no longer raining, but the warmer winter air was still chilly. It seemed like Ben took forever!
Finally, he returned with some flimsy white string. "This was the best they could do. I don't know if it will hold, but it's the only choice we've got."
He took the poster from me and instructed me to get into the car. Every once in awhile he'd hand me an end of string to thread through the open windows. Other than that, the situation was out of my hands.
At last he was back in the driver's seat, and we were on our way, honking and waving at people we didn't know, laughing, and exchanging friendly-ish insults. It was almost like there was not a gargantuan poster tied to the top of the car.
Everything was fine until the day Dad was packing up the family station wagon for our trip to the small town where Basement Guy lived. With a wife and five girls, three of whom were teenagers at the time, Dad had to save his very best organizational skills for when we took road trips. Since the passengers took up most of the space in the station wagon, he had to pack almost everything in the "Turtle Top," kind of like an extra trunk that one could attach to the top of a car. (I think the Brady Bunch had one.)
So, I brought out the poster and handed it to Dad matter-of-factly, as though it had always been a staple on our road trips. He gave me the familiar, "I love you so much, but there are some things about you I will never understand" look, followed by the sterner "You don't actually think you're going to get away with this, right?" look.
Somehow, I got away with it, though. The ginormous poster took its second trip on a car roof, this time properly protected from the elements. Thanks, Dad. :)
I've learned since then to think things through to the end. Sometimes you just can't, though. Those are the times you hold on tight to the Lord and pray your way through.
In case you were wondering, Basement Guy loved the poster, or at least pretended to. Who knows? Either way, I was glad I had gone to the trouble.
If you'd like to hear the "Basement Man" story, check out the "Laurie Story" section of this video. It begins at 4:11 (time on the video). Consider giving it a thumbs up if you like it! :)
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