Keep Me Posted

Parents always want their kids to keep in touch with them. They want to know where their kids are and that they are safe at all times. My parents are the same way, they need to know that I am in a secure area and surrounded by either people I know or people that aren’t going to attack me. If I keep in touch with the they are in the know and feel comfortable letting me do what I want, but when they are uniformed, situations begin to spiral out of control.

After work one night, around 9:30ish, I had made plans to go out with some friends to a field party. One of those parties that I should have probably worn a good sturdy pair of and pair of shoes that I really didn’t care to see the true color of after the night was said and done. I told my dad where I was going: “to a party somewhere in West Nashville”; also that I was going to be with my best friend Matt, who, at times, I think my parents love more than me, and our go-to-guy friend Chris; therefore I’d be well protected. My dad agreed, finishing our little phone conversation with his I’m-being-a-good-parent-phrase, “you shouldn’t stay out all night”, but I took that as more of a suggestion, rather than a command; as most teenagers would. All summer I had been coming in at around 4 or 5 am, so I thought this night was not going to be an exception. After clocking out, locking up and hopping into Matt’s car we were on our way. Forty-five minutes later, after watching the darkness get darker on the way to this “party”, we came across what was said to be the entrance to the field: a space in the trees, gravel path, marked with a small American flag stuck in the ground. How patriotic. We turned in thinking that the party was going to be just around the corner, but instead we drove for about eight more minutes through what looked like scenes from Jurassic Park: a huge barn, abandoned cars, turned over boats, a couple of broken down trailers, all surrounded by intense foliage.
I said, “If we break down we’re calling 9-1-1, and no ones opening the doors to this car until day light”.

Finally we started to see cars, ones that weren’t sitting on blocks, lots of them. Once parked, we walked to the main clearing. There we found about 250 plus drunken kids, stumbling about, laughing and chattering away with friends. To the left: a huge generator in the back of a fire-truck-red Jeep Wrangler truck with a spot light shined directly at the party, and at the small bonfire, as if the heat itself wouldn’t keep the drinkers from wobbling towards it; loud speakers blasting top 40; and to the right: two huge coolers filled with a mixture of who-knows-what punch, surrounded by half empty cases of beer. We couldn’t walk ten steps without crunching on one of those all-too-familiar and way-inconspicuous red cups. It had rained almost all that week, so the ground was extremely muddy and slick. While attempting to mingle gracefully I lost a flip-flop to the brown grassy gook more than a couple times and the bottom half of the legs to my jeans were soaked all the way through. Oh, the outfits we ruin to be able to say, “We were there”. After a couple cups of the bitter red juice, I was definitely networking my way to the top of the party, too bad I wouldn’t remember anyone’s name I shook hands with. I met a couple of Vandy kids, some from UT Knoxville, Chattanooga, some from Brentwood and Franklin, and some were just too drunk to function and could barely state their names.

After stumbling and stuttering a tad myself we decided the party was dying down and that it’d be a really great idea if we headed out before some of the other dizzy kids decided to try their luck at escaping the jungle. Matt, being the only sober one, was our driver. With Chris in the back-seat, and I riding shotgun we were off over the rocky bumps and slushy turns, back through entrance of Wrong Turn to Dead End; luckily escaping any run-ins with inbreeds and the sound of banjo music. On the long ride back to civilization, I wore Matt’s sunglasses while we all tried a butchered attempt at a Jackson Five song. I remembered that my phone had died earlier at the party, I think I remember something about Matt’s dying too. Oh well, I thought, as long as my parents knew I was with Matt then I didn’t think they’d care. We dropped Chris off, and decided to just leave my car at the studio where I worked; I’d get it tomorrow, since I was working again. We then went to Matt’s house, where I guess we thought we would sit out my intoxication. We turned on Law and Order SVU, our favorite show, and that was the last thing I remember.

I pulled my eyes open as a very pale blue peeked through the window. Oh my God. It was morning; I must have fallen asleep on the floor. I felt my face grow hot, my heart pumping faster, my ears rang, and a vein pulsated in my temple. I jerked up and ran over to the chair where Matt was sprawled on, his head hanging slightly. I shook him and yelled.
“It’s morning! Oh my God, my parents are going to kill me; they’re going to kill us both! We have to get back to my car!” He started to move, but I was already waiting to go. My phone was still dead, no telling how many times my dad had probably tried to reach me; and with Matt’s phone dead too; oh God, this could not end well. We rushed to the studio to get my car; I was definitely more than awake and aware enough to operate a vehicle. In our separate cars we both rushed to the end of the parking lot. It was times like these where I truly wish my car could teleport. I was half way home before I realized my music was on, but when I did I immediately shut it off; I felt even more nervous with it playing the songs from last night. When I pulled into my driveway I half expected to just be able to just sneak in through the garage and my parents to still be asleep, but I was horrified to see my that my dad’s car was missing. Was he out looking for me? Could this get any worse? I turned my key in the lock to open the door and then walked through the threshold of doom. I heard my mom upstairs give a loud huff. She walked to the top of the stairs and glared down at me, saying nothing, and then finally,

“I don’t think you know how much trouble you’re in. You’re father has been trying to get a-hold of you on the phone since 3am, and he’s been out looking for you since four.”

Oh shit. It was six now. I ran into the kitchen there my phone charger lay on the table; I plugged in my phone and turned it on. Oh no. Seven texts, 23 missed calls, and 2 voicemails! My life was officially over. My phone started to vibrate in my hand. It was Matt.
“Yeah?”

“I just passed your dad on Cloverland; he looks pissed.”

“Awesome! Thanks for the good news. I’ll call you back after the beating.”

I hung up as I heard the front door open, then I felt my lungs depress and my stomach bottom out. Here it comes, the yelling, the screaming, the total imprisonment for the rest of the summer and maybe even my life, goodbye world, hello Alcatraz. Then I saw my dad walk in the kitchen. He did look really mad, good call Matt.

“Have you lost your mind? What the hell were you thinking? Your mother has been crying all morning, she’s sick to her stomach. We thought you had been abducted, Sinclair. I went to the studio and saw your car, but you weren’t there. I drove to Matt’s and his car was there, but there were no lights on in his house. I was on my way back there to beat down his door and get him to tell me where he thought you might be. I was about to call the police. We thought you were dead somewhere.”

I stood there just listening to him, I didn’t say anything. Then something weird happened: He came up to me and gave me a hug.

“We didn’t know where you were, your phone was off, and we had no idea what happened to you,” he said still holding me. “We want to know where you are.”

Then I realized that, even though I was still in major trouble, it wasn’t that I was just getting yelled at for doing something stupid. My dad was just glad to know that I was safe. If I had called to tell him where I was none of this would have happened. If I had just kept in touch with them like they wanted, I wouldn’t be in the trouble I was in. From then on, I was going to always have my phone charger with me and always let my dad know where I was. For the rest of the summer I had better be in that house at or before 11:59 pm, from then on I would always always always keep them posted.

by sinclair dotson