Spandex abuse

This weekend while driving around with my roommate, we became privy to a new and hilarious form of child abuse. The afternoon began with a terrible hangover, the kind where anxiety is high and you can’t seem to find much that makes you happy aside from the Gatorade that is only dampening the effects of the negligent alcoholic excess of the night before. Then it happened, a little piece of hilarity that actually brought a smile to my face. This moment was brought to me by a teenage boy, fairly overweight and most certainly a kid who gets picked on at school daily. Now imagine this sad being on the back of a tandem bicycle (which I now refer to as “The misery vessel”) with his Father piloting the front half, both of them decked out in full matching gear complete with spandex and those ridiculous helmets that look like Nerf footballs. Now comes the part of this story that is the most difficult to paint with words. I can only say that I am blessed to have been fortunate enough to catch the magical moment that occurred in a split second when this kid raised his head up from his shame slump to look me straight in the eyes. The look on this kids face can only be described as sheer terror and humiliation in its purest form. It was so miserable that I almost felt bad for the little guy before I started pointing and laughing hysterically at him. I then informed my roommate to follow them so that I could try to get a picture with my phone. I thought if I had photo documentation of this kid’s face staring back at me with tears in my eyes as I convulse with laughter I might actually have a fail proof technique of completely ridding myself of depression. If I was feeling down I could simply refer to this picture and feel great just bathing in the solace that if all else fails, I’m not the sad little spandex kid praying that his friends don’t see him looking like a buffoon on the back of a tandem bicycle with his sick and depraved Father. Unfortunately I was unable to capture anything worth saving…I guess I was too distracted to concentrate on steadying my hand and finding the patience to wait for the perfect moment. So we gave up on the photo part but this only lead to our imaginations running wild with scenarios of how this kid got forced into this shameful torture.

“Daaad, I don’t want to put this stupid spandex outfit on…”

“Son, I don’t want to hear this droning and blubbering! Put the god damn outfit on and get on the fucking bike!”

“But Dad, what if the guys see me?”

“Son, I have had enough! You want to keep playing that World of Warcraft thing you do? Do you?! Well then get on the fucking bike! It’s about time you start losing some weight and spend some quality time with your old man! Now shut up and start peddling!”

“Why?! Why?! Why?! I hate you Dad! I hate you!!!!”

It’s sick. It’s just plain sick. Dear gracious hangover God, thank you for easing my pain and making my week palatable with this display of wickedness.