Footloose, Kevin Bacon, Me & My Parents
"ROADTRIP!" That's what I yelled out to my husband before he left to work (he just nodded and said "I'll see you tonight hun").
But he wasn't going to see me on that night because I was off on a journey, no not a journey, a mission - yes, I was going to find a small town and go completely "Footloose" on them.
I looked at a map, packed my tights and my dancing shoes and then my mother called. I told her I would see her in a few days and that I was off on a "business trip" to which she replied "What business?"
As she would say, I explained my plans to her in a "nutshell" then I hung up and ran outside, got into my car and it stalled and then it stalled again and then I realized I would need a lift to my mission. So I was about to call a friend when my father called (even though I had just spoken to my mother and he was sitting directly across from her having a piece of pecan pie).
"Leeza (once again, has no idea my name is Lisa), what's this your mother tells me you are hitting the road? I'm coming. Do they have good restaurants where you are going?"
"Dad, you're not coming" And then miraculously a crazy thought went through my head (imagine that?), I would need my parents and their car. The car - to get there - wherever there was and them to register me in the local high school where I would be busting loose in dance. They would play the part of my parents and I would be their teenage daughter (not too far fetched at all). So I told my father to pack, grab my mom and head to my house immediately.
They live 14 minutes away so 2 hours later they arrived at my house and I could hear my mother screaming my name from outside. I looked everywhere and couldn't find them or their car, then I called their cell phone but they don't actually ever have it on and then I saw my mother's head sticking out in between parked cars about a block down. I yelled "pull up in front of my house" to which she replied (while everyone stopped and stared) "There's no damn parking spots on this street"
It took a few minutes until they realized they could pull up in front of my driveway. Then an argument ensued. My father refused to let me drive. Here is why that is a problem. My father believes that if he drives with his foot constantly on and off the gas, he will get wherever he is going sooner and it will cost less.
So I got in the back seat of their puke brown Toyota Corolla with the wind up windows and my mothers nail polish painted on the bumper where my dad constantly smashed it into the driveway wall. I sat on one of those cushions that people put down at outdoor stadiums so their bum stays warm. Why do they have those in their car? I have no idea - perhaps they give lifts to their friends many of whom have big hemorrhoids.
We headed toward the highway and just as we were about to make some moves my dad decided to stop at Lafleurs for his second lunch of the day. (For my readers in Latvia, Lafleurs is a little snack bar by the highway in Lachine. There they cut potatoes all day and have excellent french fries. They also steam hot dogs and toast the buns and place raw onions over the dog or if you are really adventurous meat sauce. You can feed your entire family there for $20. However you have to eat standing up in a shack like building along side some very large truck drivers (not that there is anything wrong with that) or in your car (which will stink if you do so).
After my dad finished his fries and michigan (that's the dog with the meat - you bet), we were on our way.
1.5 hour later (about 1.5 hour more than I could take being in the car with them), we arrived in a town called Joli (completely fictitious) and found a Hampton Inn. Once we were checked in, my dad went to the front desk to ask when the continental breakfast was being served to which they replied "Tomorrow morning sir" or actually they replied in French which translates into "Tomorrow morning sir".
After that my mother kicked my father out of their room so she could read and correct papers (Professor) and my dad set up office in the lobby where he went on to interview anyone and everyone about their lives (former reporter)and of course to wait for breakfast.
I took a tour of the town and found the local high school. I then returned to the hotel and dressed up like a teenager which involved nothing since I dress like a teenager. Then I grabbed my parents and had them rehearse what they were going to say to the Principal about us just moving to town and my needing a school. My mother called and made an appointment and the Principal agreed to meet with them after school.
There we were in front of Madame Sheusta (fictitious). My father told her she was a beautiful woman and then asked where the nearest dessert place was particularly a frozen yogurt place where the handles come out of the wall and you can eat cotton candy and pina colada. My mother went on to tell her that I was very feminine when I was little and she really wasn't sure when things went awfully wrong.
Anyway the next day I showed up at school and met some nice friends. We went to the cafeteria at lunch and it was time for my big dance - this was my chance - so I got up on a long table and I blasted my boom box and I footloosed all over the place - I mean I was twisting, jumping, spinning - just ripping up the place - and you know what? No one cared. This was extremely disappointing. Where were the people that don't allow dancing in their town?
When I returned to the hotel my parents were ready to go for dinner (4pm). They thought there would be an Early Bird Discount somewhere. We ended up at a local diner where my father told the waitress she was the most beautiful woman and my mother told him to shut up. We ordered our food and about an hour later a bunch of locals starting coming in (they missed the Early Bird).
Again, this was my shot at foot loosing - so I got up on the front counter and started to dance. I didn't have my boom box but the sound system at the diner was playing "Rain drops keep falling on my head" so I jiggied out to that and really started to get into it. And you know what happened - no one cared.
We returned to our hotel and I realized that perhaps I had made a huge mistake in thinking that all small towns do not allow dancing or loud music. Just then my mother asked me if I wanted to go play Bingo at the local church. My father only agreed to come if snacks were being served so my mother packed some cookies and some chips in her purse and we were on our way.
There were alot of older people playing Bingo and it was very, very quiet as they concentrated intensely (as if you have to concentrate on Bingo - there is no strategy - just wait for them to call your number and stand up for God's sake). There it was the shining opportunity. I ran to the car, grabbed my boom box and just as someone was calling out Bingo (my mother) I began to dance in front of the whole crowd. They went crazy - throwing their Bingo boards at me blocking their ears - a riot ensued. My parents headed for the door (well my Dad first went to the snack table and grabbed some cake) and I followed suit.
It had worked, I had made a name for myself in Joli. I had caused a Bingo riot. I was Footloose and loving it.
We arrived home later that night. My husband was watching the news with the dogs on the couch.
"How was your roadtrip?"
"It was great. I ate a Michigan, I made it on time for an Early Bird Special, went back to highschool, danced on a table in a cafeteria, danced in a Bingo church hall and hung out with my parents"
He didn't hear anything I said because the TV was blasting and then a news story came on about this girl who decided to play her boom box and dance in the middle of Sherbrooke St right in front of the McGill gates. There were all these people honking their horns and yelling at her. Students were blocked from crossing the intersection so they were throwing things at her. Everyone was up in arms and she was the rebel, the devil, yes, she was FOOTLOSE and all I had done was show up at a Bingo game in a small town.
I went to bed that night feeling like a real loser however when I awoke the next morning, a brilliant thought came to mind - what if I could be the next American Idol even though I'm past the age limit, not American and can't sing - yes, this was the perfect plan. I called my parents, they were on their way and I was about to be a star.
Kevin Bacon - call me - I know a Bingo hall where you can dance and a diner that serves excellent Pecan Pie.