Last week's visit to the video store brought about one of those awkward moments in life. A few seconds that provide an epiphany as to why embarrass is spelled with a double 's' after the letter a. It is a moment met with either an Alfred E. Neuman toothy grin, an inappropriate funeral parlor giggle or an excruciatingly painful pause.
I usually grin and bear it.
Let me preface the next paragraph with this statement: three hours in a minivan with a four year old. This is the reason why portable DVD players were invented. After all, "I Spy" is a bit too analytical and "Slug Bug" just isn't the same without a sibling's arm to pummel. Naturally we read books and sing songs, but how many choruses of "Row, Row, Row Your Boat" before you jump out of a Dodge Grand Caravan at 70 mph?
Growing up in the pre-DVD player '70s, I bought into today's guilt trip about lazy parenting. Then I realized I wasn't strapped into a five-point NASCAR restraint on epic family road trips. Car seats? I used to sit on the family Pontiac's rear transmission hump. My wife recalls riding in the hatch of a VW Rabbit. The closest thing to an air bag was a leaky bean bag chair in the back of our Ford van.
So without a tinge of guilt, I stopped by the video store to pick up an Easter road trip movie. Despite her affinity for bugs and an ability to differentiate between Chevelles and Corvettes, our daughter remains a girl at heart. So I steam past the Thomas the Train collection, skip the Excessive Violence Action Figure section, and go straight for My Little Pony. The lone copy is gone, however, so I give an accusatory glance at the nearest girl in pigtails.
Undaunted, I press ahead past the horror flicks: Elmo, Barney and some animated characters called Bratz, which I add to my ever-growing over-my-dead-body list. After being mauled by one too many Care Bear movies, I settle for the sickeningly sweet "Strawberry Shortcake: Adventures on Ice Cream Island" in the nearly-new section. Now comes the hard part: physically picking the movie up.
As a 36-year-old man, I perceive myself — misguided as it might be — as retaining an ounce of coolness. Retina-shocking pink DVD covers with prancing ponies tend to cramp this self-indulgent style. So I feign looking at a nearby copy of "Land of the Dead", the thinking man's zombie movie. After peering over both shoulders, I snag Strawberry Shortcake and go stand in line nonchalantly as possible. After letting a few people cut in front of me, it's finally my turn to check out.
Now I have noticed that some video clerks announce the title of your chosen movie as they scan the barcode; so everyone in the store can know your guilty pleasure for Pauly Shore movies. However, the guy behind the counter with the shaved head and preppy tie only asks for a phone number and if my name is Garret. Then he smiles. "Man, I've been meaning to check this one out," says Shaved Head, his voice dripping with irony. I respond to his verbal thrust with the only parry I can muster: "Well I had to wait until the hard core director's cut came out on DVD," says I with an Alfred E. grin.
We both chuckle and I fear he's recognized me. After all, it was only two weeks ago that I set off an alarm in the same video store. Unfortunately I had forgotten to put a movie in the return slot and tried to leave with it in my coat pocket. Worse yet, my accidental attempt at shoplifting and potential jail time was for "Care Bears: Festival of Fun" on DVD.
• Jail Bird: "So what 'cha in for?"
•Me: Stealing.
• Jail Bird: Cars? Money? Drugs?
• Me: Ah, no ... Care Bears.
At least the presence of my four year old could vouch for me the first time. Although the video clerk didn't say anything, I'm sure a video-still print of my face is up in the storage room hall of shame; right next to a movie poster for "Grease 2".
As awkward moments go, the latest was just slight to relatively. I mean it wasn't 'price check on feminine hygiene product over the grocery store loudspeaker' embarrassing or a mortifying purchase of certain protection at the drug store from the nice old lady behind the counter who looks like your grandma. Nor was it turn your head and cough.
Guys, as they edge toward 40, often feel they have to prove their XY worth. Sadly, I am not above the neo-caveman fray. So next time I visit the video store, I'll probably check out "Reservoir Dogs" or some other Quentin Tarantino cinema el carnage. Right after I return my Strawberry Shortcake rental.
Grand Traverse Herald editor Garret Leiva can be reached at 933-1416 or email gleiva@gtherald.com