My daughter, Sarah, has always been scared of costumes. As an infant, she was terrified of Halloween or any holiday involving costumes or anything remotely resembling a costume. To further screw her up, on her 2nd birthday, I dressed up in a Cookie Monster (from Sesame Street) costume and scared the Peruvian out of her. I was so drunk that I passed out in the alley behind our house in the Cookie Monster costume. She had seen the “Cookie Monster” laying there lifeless. I am sure this incident didn’t help her through her fear of costumes. There is no rhyme or reason for this fear, she simply has it.
Let us fast forward to the year 2001. Sarah was 8 years old. Sarah was 8 years old. Sarah was 8 years old. That is not a typo. I want everybody to know what a fucked up thing that I did to an 8 year old girl – and to make matters worse, to my own daughter. My old high school, Gordon Tech, was playing a big playoff game (basketball) that night. Some of my old crew was going to meet there and then we were going to decide where to go get fucked up after the game. I hadn’t seen a lot of these guys in years so I was really looking forward to the game and seeing all of my friends, whose names all escape me right now (that is how important they really were to me). Sarah and I walked into the gym. We had to wait in a long line to get in. The place was packed to the rafters and there was a great high school basketball vibe in the air. Sarah was hungry so, I had purchased her a nice little chocolate cupcake with strawberry frosting on it. She was very happy with it and saved it so she could eat it during the game. My buddies had saved us a couple of spots in the bleachers at the far end of the gym.
As we entered the GT gym, there he was - the Gordon Tech Ram MASCOT (cue the music…pa pa pom……). Sarah went absolutely ballistic. She could not walk any further into the gym. I really thought that her fear of these costumes was over and that she could overcome it. She started balling uncontrollably and refused to walk any further into the gym. I was like “What the fuck, Sarah? It’s only a fucking costume!” That yelling and my tone made her cry even worse. I had no choice but to take her home. I was so fucking pissed. I didn’t get a chance to see my friends or to find out where the fuck we were going after the game to get fucked up. Do you believe that fucking daughter of mine? She had a lot of fucking nerve to start crying and fucking up my good time! Damn right I was pissed and for good reason. As we were walking to the parking lot, I yelled at her – “Give me that fucking cupcake!” She handed me the uneaten cupcake and I threw it as far as I could onto California Ave. We drove home and didn’t say a word. The crying had stopped only because the costumes were not there. I vowed in my mind never to take her to another sporting event again. Fuck that shit.
Well. I guess it takes a lot of years to fully understand what I did that night. I yelled at the thing that was the most precious thing to me in my entire life - The “Perfect baby” as I described her the day she was born. I yelled and ranted and raved because I wanted to get fucked up and she prevented me from doing that. Sarah and I talk about this incident a lot and kind of laugh about it as a funny thing. But, fuck, years later, it ain’t so funny. I am truly sorry, Sarah, for doing that to you that night. You have no idea of the regret that I have for treating you like that on that night. You were only 8 years old. You were a little kid who was scared. I didn’t mean it. I wanted to get fucked up. Now I don’t get fucked up anymore.
I will never do that to you again.