Boots?

In 1974 I was about twenty-five years old but had yet to finish my education on maturity and responsibility. We were living in Dallas, I had a job that paid pretty good money and a family that I loved faithfully. I also loved having a good time and that's where I fell short on maturity and responsibility. I had yet to shed the "small town boy comes to the big city" syndrome.

One of the "good time" things I enjoyed was throwing darts every Tuesday night in the Dallas Dart Association. Now that's not the Dallas Area Rapid Transit, that's a dart throwing, beer drinking dart league. Amber was trusting and sometimes understanding and knew that she had nothing to be concerned about other than the beer drinking and my driving home in the Dallas traffic.

One Tuesday evening I was getting ready for my usual trip to the dart pub, when Amber walked in and asked me if I would do her a favor. Thinking she was going to ask me to stop and get a loaf of bread on the way home, I told her that I would. With tears building in her eyes, she asked me if I could please refrain from consuming my usual quantity of beer so that she wouldn't have to hold her breath every time the phone rang when I was gone. Because I was caught off guard and because I was impressed with her serious demeanor, I gave her a reassuring hug and told her I would do my best.



My restraint went pretty well through the normal tournament matches. Then we started the traditional ' losing team buys the beer matches'. My restraint faltered. After all, we were winning and the beer was free, my favorite kind of beer. Driving home I knew I had screwed up. Then I started thinking......the thing that usually gives me away when I have drank too much is my mouth or more specifically my thick tongue. If I could limit my conversation she would never know which should be easy because she would already be in bed.

I arrived at home. I quietly opened the door and carefully walked through the house being careful not to bump the furniture. I walked through the bedroom toward the bathroom and Amber raised her head and said hello. Very carefully and with diction I said, "Hello Dear," and walked on into the bathroom. I brushed my teeth until my gums bled and gargled twice. I then walked back into the bedroom, turned off the lamp, got into bed, gave Amber a hug and a little kiss. I then said very carefully, "Goodnight Dear." As I pulled the cover up to my chin, I smiled to myself; I had done it. She never had a clue.

The next morning I got up, took care of my bathroom chores, got dressed and walked over to Amber to say good-bye before leaving for work. As I kissed her good-bye, she said, "Boy, you got tanked last night."

Giving her my best look of innocence, I said, "What do you mean Dear? I thought I did real well last night."

Amber said, "Oh, you did, until about an hour after you went to sleep. You got up, walked into the wall about three times and then pee'd in your boots."

That was a long time ago and I have since completed my education on maturity and being a responsible man. I can assure you that an embarrassing incident like that will never happen again mainly because I don't wear boots any more.

Amber has done an excellent job of raising the girls and me. I am not trying to make light of some of my short comings but rather look back and be thankful that I can now laugh at myself and share a little laughter with my friends from time to time.