Back when my marriage was new and Starbux just a tenuous idea in some idiot Washintonian's head, my parents decided to visit us in New York, and somehow ended up staying at my in-laws.
I'm not sure how that happened. One minute I was madly making plans to alter out downstairs bathroom so my dad, who had suffered a minor stroke, could use the tub without being thrown into it and the next it was all settled and we would hardly see the buggers.
Bonus.
I drove Mrs Stevie and the Mrs Steviedad to JFK International Hellhole to retrieve the Stevieparents and any of their baggage that survived the carousel1 and drive them to Chez Inlaws for dinner and light criticism.
As we were driving home I was foolish enough to forget to turn off the radio. The fathers began an impromptu slagging-off of all things modern, with particular emphasis on contemporary music and the incomprehensible lyrics of same. My ears pricked up at once.
The Mrs Steviedad said "In our day you could understand the words to the songs and what the songs were about, not like today" and that was my signal.
"Oh really?" I said. "Then perhaps you wouldn't mind telling me exactly what a "flatfoot floozy3" is, and then explain what it was doing on "the floy-floy" (whatever that is)".
The rest of the journey was made in grim silence.
It was totally worth it.
- The baggage carousels at JFK are justifiably reputed to be more deadly than the Carousel in Logan's Run2↑
- Albeit with rather less scantily-clad Jenny Agguter, dammit↑
- Yes, I know now that the title of the song is The Flatfoot Floogie on the Floy-Floy but I didn't then, having only heard the thing on an episode of Terry and June about twenty five years ago↑
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