Fly, Little Bird!

Having SPF out of town this week has reminded me of when my parents first left me on my own for an entire weekend.

I was a sophomore in high school and they had some sort of meeting or event out of town. My sister had already graduated and was off in North Carolina, and my secondary parental unit was also going to be out of town. No big deal, I assured them, I had a car, a gas card, and no plans for the weekend. Undoubtedly it would be an uneventful few days.

The one thing that all of us sort of forgot was money. I had a gas card, sure, but I could only use that at Chevron. I had some food in the pantry, but, if memory serves, it was down to Corn Pops and white bread. I have no idea how we forgot these essentials, but I assumed then, as I assume now, that they believed I was responsible and trustworthy, so there was no real overflow of concern.

But I get bored easily. Some friends of mine from high school (or, at least, people that I yearned to be friends with) were in a local production of Brighton Beach Memoirs that I desperately wanted to see. It was downtown, which was a hike from the comforting mountains where our house was perched with a view at night like looking down upon the stars that make up the constellation of Albuquerque. Somewhere amidst that hustle and bustle of light and movement was a small theater that sat at most two hundred patrons.

I had resigned myself to not being able to see the show. No money, no way to pay the twelve dollar entrance fee, so why even bother.

Why? Adventure, comrades! The great unknown and the thrill that comes with conquering it. The first, delicious taste of self-reliance!! Unadulterated freedom. Well, that settled it. I had to go. I had to find, in some way, the means to get to the theater and pay my way into the experiences of life itself, of culture, expanded horizons, and proof that I was a contributing woman in the New Mexico lifestyle.

I had two dollars. That meant I needed to find ten more. First I cracked the obvious strongholds: my gumball dispenser, the couch cushions, and the kitchen drawers. That yielded about three bucks, with a few pennies to spare. Next came my throw-it-all-in-here drawers in my bathroom, bedroom desk, dresser, and along the lining of my closet floor. Another twenty nine cents. I still needed about five dollars to make the ticket price.

I grimaced. Not yet. I scoured my sister's old room for lost treasures including the drawers in her bathroom, bedroom desk, dresser, and along the lining of her closet floor. That yielded one nickel. At this point I had, all told, $5.38.

I grimaced again. Into the parents' bedroom! Tops of dressers, office drawers, bathroom counters, nothing, nothing!! I wouldn't open those drawers, so I returned to the lining of my closet and scoured again. A HA!! Another devilishly hidden dime. $5.48.

At this point the clock was running down. I needed half an hour to drive to the theater, which meant I had only five more minutes to find $4.52.

I knew where it was, too. My bizarre childhood fascination with pennies had driven me to collect and store hundreds upon hundreds of pennies in an old, yellow make-up bag. I drug the bag out, bursting with the sheer weight of it's bounty. There was no other choice!!

I began to count. One, two, three, four...AHHHH time's up, must count faster!!... Six, eight, ten, twelve...I can always make up time on the road...thirty two, thirty four, thirty six...did I put gas in the Bronco?...eighty eight, ninety, ninety two...oh crap, need to feed the dogs, must wait!!!...one fifty!...this is taking forever...two hundred, two o' two, two o' three, wait, four, two o' five, AHHH concentrate! six, two o' eight...I give up this isn't worth it!! Wait, where was I?... two hundred, two o' two, two o' four...glad I keep these piles of 100 separate...three twenty two, three twenty four, three twenty six...how much did I need? Ahhh!! Should have left ten minutes ago!!...four forty eight, four fifty, four fifty two, four fifty four, four fifty six...WAIT!! That's it!! I made it! And with only...two, four, six, eight...Twenty pennies to spare!! It's a sign! I must go!!!

And with that I piled into my Bronco, apologized to the dogs who would have to wait for dinner, and drove...calmly and like a perfect lady...all that way down to the theater on the other side of town. When I walked in they had already started the opening monologue. The cashier waved me through and exclaimed that we would settle up during intermission. I was so thrilled.

The first act was unbelievable. The acting superb, the sets, lighting, sound, all beyond compare, and the tiny theater was the perfect, intimate setting for my great flight of self-reliance.

When intermission came around I proceeded back to the counter and thanked the cashier for letting me in, and offering my bursting, yellow goodie bag. His eyes widened as I dumped out all twelve dollars in a slew of two dollars, quarters, dimes, nickels, and pennies...oh so many pennies.

"It's all there, I swear."

"I'm just going to trust you." Weak smile as he pulled the coins off the counter and into his hand before shoving them into the register.

Triumph. I was now a bonafide patron! A real contributor to the cultural society. And did I mention I knew the actors? Scotty and Kenny and that beautiful blond who no one knew could act, what was her name? You know, the soccer player? Oh, the victory was an added glow spread over the stage as the second act continued. Lovely show!! Standing ovation!!! Such talent, such youth, such overwhelming freedom!!

Of course I regaled my parents with the story upon their return, at which time my father proceeded to the encyclopedia (the M) and pulled out a crisp twenty.

"Why didn't you use the emergency cash?"

Wide eyed and suddenly overcome with the weight of my unnecessary scrounging, searching, and painstaking counting I scowled up at him. "You never told me there was any."