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I have no idea why this just crossed my mind. Maybe because I’m listening to some old Police music?

It was October 11th, 1983. The Police’s Synchronicity was one of the biggest albums in the nation. Every Breath you Take was one of the top singles. The Police were arguably the most popular band in the world at that moment. I had never been to a concert in my life, and I had tickets, my very own 13th row seats at the Police concert that evening for their show at Louisiana State University. I was 13 years old.

The plans were for my best friend, Shane, to pick me up at 7 and head to the show which started at 8. Shane was 16 and had an old, barely working Toyota somethingoranother. The car looked like a piece of wadded up aluminum foil with 4 wheels, but it was transportation and it was taking us the concert.

My memory is fuzzy about what exactly happened to the car or how Shane ended up at my place, but it was broken and he was already at my house early in the afternoon for some reason. We spent the day working on the car (like either of us knew what we were doing); one thing led to another, and the project got a lot more involved than we thought it would be. Before we knew it, 7:00 was upon us and it was time to leave. The car was working. Mission accomplished.

Shane said he was going home to shower and change clothes and would be back for me shortly. I rushed inside to get ready to leave. I was heading to the bathroom with a change of clothes in tow when my dad stops me.

“Where are you going?”, he asks.

“Police concert, remember?” I respond.

“Oh yeah. Well it’s a good thing you cut the yard like I asked you to, otherwise you wouldn’t be going anywhere.”

Oh fuck me. Fuck me, fuck me, fuck me. While dealing with Shane’s car issues, I totally forgot to cut the grass. Cutting the grass was an all-day affair. We had about an acre and a half and my dad was a perfectionist. I had to edge the driveway every time, detail with the weed-eater, and sweep the driveway. Not to mention putting all of the grass from the grass-catcher on the mower into garbage bags and washing and drying the lawnmower and weed eater. Did I mention my dad was a sadistic prick who loved tormenting me?

Needless to say, he took great delight in telling me that not ONLY would I not be going to the concert, but I would go outside right then, in the dark, and cut the grass. Oh, as an added bonus, we were out of gas for the riding lawnmower (it used regular gas) and I would have to use the PUSH MOWER. (it used a mix of gas and two-cycle oil, which we had).

I have never been more humiliated. I had to call Shane and tell him that I couldn’t go. I had the tickets, so he had to come get them. He got to see the reason I wasn’t going to the concert. I was pushing the lawnmower around the yard when he showed up. We spoke briefly, and he left.

The Synchronicity Tour was the last for the Police. They broke up shortly after the tour was over and never made another album.

I regret never seeing them perform. Even more, I regret the reason why I missed the concert. Being a parent is all about discipline, but it should never be about humiliation.

This entry was posted on Thursday, July 24th, 2003 at 8:56 am and is filed under Personal. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed. You can skip to the end and leave a response. Pinging is currently not allowed.