So Unfair

Jason didn’t care. So some guy took some dirt and mushed it around and set it on fire a few thousand years ago and now he was supposed to do what? Look at it? And then what? 

There would be no Frisbee this afternoon, no inside jokes, no searing hot sand on the bottom of your feet that burns real bad before you get used to it.  No icy rebirth via wave, no tunes on the beach as the sun dipped low, no chatting up the Long Beach Poly girls, maybe get a number.  The joys of a summer Saturday afternoon had been traded for this white-walled prison.

“Watch out Jason!” Dad’s yank of his arm helped him barely dodge a saree-clad woman in a wheelchair. 

“If you’d get off that thing and look up you won’t run people over.” Jason’s eyes reflexively rolled.  

“Now come on, this is the exhibit I wanted you to see.”

Jason made it fewer than ten steps before sliding his hand into his pocket, greeted by the calming feel of glass and metal. A quick glance and series of thumb depression brought the familiar rush of soothing chemicals coursing through brain. A scroll of Instagram posts. Seen them. What about Stories?  A few flicks through Jack’s story confirmed the youthful joys his Dad had robbed from him: beach volleyball, tropical house beats, a dilly-dilly toast. And the Poly girls had shown up! Megan, Carly, a cute brunette he didn’t know but very much would like to. Relief gone, replaced by self-sorry pangs of regret.

 The unfairness of it all! Jason stewed in the injustice of his situation. Why am I here, why aren’t I there?

“Dad! Why did you drag me here! All the guys are hanging out at Ocean Park today except for me.” 

“Relax Jason, there will be other afternoons. Check out these old coins.”

“No one else’s parents take them to look at art on a Saturday! My life is so unfair.”

Dad whirled around and sized up his son. “Jason – go take a lap around this floor and actually look at the artwork instead of that five inch piece of glass. Think about who created this and why. I want to broaden your perspective. You need it.”

“Whatever.” Jason stomped off. As Dad browsed, Jason took an escalator down, crossed the street, and found a Mediterranean place with the Dodgers game on in Spanish. He half watched Kershaw deal heat as he simmered in self-pity. 

Dad kept browsing. From the Teotihuacan sun pyramid display, across the hall to a smaller exhibit on carvings from Panama. A colorful oblong mask was displayed next to several stone figurines wearing rudimentary yet profound expressions, their secret knowledge frozen in time. They were accompanied by a placard: Panamanian society in 1100 BC was rigid, decided at birth. The social hierarchy included noblemen, merchants, peasants, and slaves…

Jason sent his shawarma back after one bite. The tzatziki sauce tasted like shit.