Ode to a Friday

Today is Friday. Work is lighter with the promise of the weekend freedom ahead, moods are lifted, it’s generally a good day.

I was thinking about Fridays this morning while I was straightening my hair. My Friday night antics now in adulthood are much different than they were as a kid, as a teenager, or as a newly graduated student. Here’s a quick anecdote about a Friday night when I was 16….

I was 16 so out doing what many 16 year olds are doing – I was on a date. The boy and I had been dating for a while and were comfortable enough to set out for the night with no plans initially in mind. Of course now, 13 years later, I don’t remember exactly what we did the first part of the night because the end of the evening overshadows my memory of the entire date, but I remember the casual mood.

Back then my curfew would have been around midnight or so, so after doing whatever it is we did, we took the opportunity to find a dark parking lot to fool around in. <insert: I almost used the word “neck” here but while it was the first verb in my head for our activities, it 1) shows my age and 2) doesn’t hit the level of “necking” we were doing> We weren’t there more than 20 minutes but activities like that don’t take long to steam up windows. Even through the haze there’s no mistaking when really bright lights fill up your once dark car.

If you’ve ever been doing something you shouldn’t in a place you shouldn’t and the cops pull up, you know the exact feeling that races through your head and heart. Fortunately making out didn’t have the two of us fully unclothed. Unfortunately we were unprepared and couldn’t find all of said clothing in the urgency of putting it back on. When the tap at the window came and we got out of the backseat I only had one sock on and no shoes whatsoever; and wow was that gravel rough on my feet as I fidgeted.

The two policemen asked us all the normal questions – what are our names, can they have our drivers licenses, do we realize this is private property, yada yada. Things got a little stickier when our licenses revealed that he was 18 and I was underage. The questions then turned to are you here on your own free will, is he hurting you in any way, etc.

They stalled for time and let us sweat it out a bit in the front seat while they “processed” things. In hindsight I'm sure they were sitting in their patrol car laughing at our nervousness and the crazy things kids do. Maybe reflecting on the crazy things they did. I like to think that it was because of this last thought we were told to behave, not come back again, and drive safely home. Drive home we did, laughing at ourselves and praying that our parents weren’t called in that few minutes of “processing”.

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What am I doing tonight? Having stir-fry with my husband and daughter and entertaining a grade school friend and her family for board games.

Man, am I glad I was 16 once.