Just like Alex Spanos is never going to buy himself a purty new stadium out of his own pocket, there are certain things in life that I’ll never do.
For instance, I will not go on a cruise. Ever. Don’t ask me, especially if you tend to take things personally because I will decline, and then your feelings will be needlessly hurt, and then we’ll have to go back and forth, first in email, then later—due to misinterpretation of tone and meaning—in person, until I convince you that it really isn’t about you; it’s about me. Or, until we end our friendship over a stupid misunderstanding. In which case, piss off. You need to take yourself a little less seriously.
I won’t wear a one-piece jumpsuit a la American Apparel or tolerate Neil Diamond being played in my house. I won’t change your baby’s diaper, I won’t go to synagogue and I definitely, definitely, won’t call you on Thursday night to remind you about my daughter’s birthday party the following day. You’re an adult. Act like one and make a note on your calendar. Then have your kid at the house on time. Don’t be late for pickup, either.
I won’t have anything to do with that “sport” they call golf, or—wait.
It turns out that, when your child goes to a school being slowly devastated, like so many others, by the decisions of people who prioritize war and the interests of a few rich folks, you’ll do some crazy stuff to preserve what little quality there is left in her public education.
So, yes. As horrifying as it is, I will attend a golf fundraiser on behalf of The Language Academy this fall. Mon dieu. Or, rather, I’ll attend the awards dinner and silent auction that’ll follow what is sure to be an exhilarating 18 holes of golf on an “Arnold Palmer-managed golf course.”
What has golf got to do with foreign language?, you may ask. Well, other than the fact that it is one, the answer is: Absolutely nothing. But if you’re Friends of the Language Academy, the nonprofit arm of our school, you can go ahead and have any damned fundraiser you please. Want music education in school? It’s all yours, as long as you organize the funding of it. And who am I to belittle that? Regardless of how I personally feel about golf (puke, barf, gag, I’d rather go to temple—just kidding; no I wouldn’t), I give mad props to the organizers of what is sure to be a stunningly fun event.
Why is it going to be so darned fun?, you may ask. Another excellent question, reader, the answer to which is: Because it’s open to the public and—ahem—I’ve invited all of my coolest friends (you!) to come help hip it up. To make it bearable. Er, I mean, successful. Just think how much music the kids could have!
Here’s what needs to happen: On Saturday, Sept. 17, the plaid-shorts-and-polo-shirt crowd needs to be schooled in how to properly party after par. Of course, if any of you crazy kids are interested in the part where you knock a tiny white ball over fields of rolling green and then call yourselves athletes, you are more than welcome to a tee time on the 6,428 yards of religiously-watered-even-in-times-of-drought lawn.
Once that tragedy is over, dinner begins. And wouldn’t it be great to blow the doors off that banquet hall much like the girl in Germany did to her parents’ home by accidentally making her birthday invite public on Facebook? Bienvenue, 1,500 guests! Muchas gracias generous strangers!
My 40-year-old friend featured in my last column agreed to DJ. “I’m doing it for the kids,” he wrote with a discernible grumble. “I have to help our future so we don’t have stupid kids turning into stupid adults and f-ing with my golden years, ya know—so I DJ a golf course.” He didn’t promise it would be good (it will be) or Neil Diamond-free (it had better be). And there are no guarantees this event will spare the world more dip-shit adults. But it will be The Breakfast Club meets Caddyshack meets Cocoon, and who can resist all that?
Cocoon?, you might be saying to yourself. Yes, well, that’s because during the four-ish-hour event, there will be the overwhelming sensation that we won’t get any older and we won’t ever die.
That, and it’s being held at the Doubletree Golf Resort in Rancho Something or Other. Yes, the location is sort of—how shall I say it?—Rancho Peñasquitosy. Nothing against Rancho Peñasquitos and their tidy, white-flight neighborhoods and their five-digit home addresses and their riff-raff-free schools or anything. But, what could be more early-bird-special than that? Add a 5:30 p.m. start time and you might want to consider ordering lukewarm coffee with your lunch that day just to frontload the evening festivities.
Look. I realize this ain’t no artsy, highfalutin’ Museum School or McKinley or Explorer or Co-op event. The Language Academy doesn’t roll that way. We do it with 18-holes and a ballroom prom, bitches! (Grinding is expressly prohibited.) And who knows? There just might be chaperones to make sure you leave two inches of space between your bodies during slow dances. Imagine the nostalgia.
So. Who’s in? I’ll love you forever. I’ll come to your kids’ shit. Maybe.