The Christmas Kmart Saved My Dad’s Ass
The Tryping My Best Moment of the Week #33
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Hello everyone! Yes, this is another paid subscriber edition that is going out to everyone. It’s another story that I think is too funny not share far and wide. My Dad might not agree but this is my newsletter and I AM IN CHARGE.
So, here we go.
The Christmas Kmart Saved My Dad’s Ass
First, the backstory.
My Mom’s birthday is on Christmas Day and that means for Christmas Eve, we do whatever she wants. Weather permitting, that usually means some combination of going to church and to a nice dinner. We’ve been doing this family activity for as long as I can remember and most of the time, it’s nothing to write in your Santa letter about. But, of course, some years are more memorable than others.
(Another tidbit: my Mom [Mary] and her sister Carol were both born on Christmas Day, eight years apart. We could learn a lot from this but I’m mostly thinking about the fact that my Grandmother named her two Christmas babies Mary and Carol.)
Now, to the main story.
It was 2003 or 2004; I was a junior or senior in high school. For this particular Christmas, it was dinner first and church second. The whole family put on our nice holiday clothes, Bro and I opened our Christmas Eve presents (always jammies), waddled across the ice covered driveway, got in the car and began our journey.
Our restaurant choice for the year was in Spokane Valley, about an hour from our house in Cheney. The drive was uneventful, as far as I remember. Although knowing Bro and myself, there was probably some, “She’s touching me!” and “He’s on my side!”s either in jest or in seriousness. Finally, we made it to our destination. As we pulled up to the restaurant, we noticed something funny about the sign. A very necessary letter was burnt out. Instead of going to Black Angus for our dinner, we ended up at Black An[g]us. This, dear reader, is foreshadowing.
Dinner went off without a hitch; it was good! Probably some laughter, some bickering, delicious steaks, and definitely something potato based. Then, at some point, Dad excused himself from the table. And he was gone…for awhile. We all assumed we went to tell the wait staff that we were celebrating my Mom’s birthday (free dessert!) but then he just kept…not…coming…back. There was a brief discussion around the table whether one of us should go look for him. But as we were about to send one of us into the wilds of Black An[g]us, Dad reappeared.
He gingerly sat back down at the table with a look on his face that can only be described as concerned. One of us asked if he went to tell the wait staff about Mom’s birthday. He shook his head no. And then he indicated that it would be wise if we got the check quickly and high-tailed it out of the restaurant. I’m pretty sure none of us knew what the rush was at first. Dad looked uncomfortable but maybe him wanting to leave was more about timing than anything else?
Then he said he would need to make a stop to buy some new pants.
Now, this is sort of moment is one to be supportive. And nice. And gentle. It could happen to anyone, old man. No worries! We’ll stop for new pants, no big deal. We definitely will not be laughing directly in your face and making jokes for the rest of the night (and subsequent decade and a half). Nope. Not even at all.
We did get the check as quickly as possible after that, paid, and entered the next butt of our journey. As we drove from Spokane Valley, up to the South Hill where we went to church, we kept our eyes peeled for anywhere that was open and sold pants. It was Christmas Eve and we were striking out left and right (but giggling all the way. Don’t worry. Dad was giggling too).
Finally, a lighted sign appeared as a beacon through the cold and snow. We turned into the parking lot to see if this store was really open. And it was. The Kmart was bright and shining and beckoning us in. “We have pants,” it said. “We have the pants to save your ass.”
Kmart really did save my Dad’s ass that year. He quickly bought some pants, changed in the bathroom, and we still made it to church in plenty of time to get our regular seats at church. I don’t know that I thought I would ever be thankful to Kmart but here we are. Thank you, Kmart, for making that a Christmas none of us will ever forget.
So, until next week, here is a picture of me as a kid being the present you always wanted and a “Share” button below for anyone who needs a smile this holiday season.
And don’t forget to always have extra pants on hand in case of a Black An[g]us emergency and keep on tryping your best.