Rite of passage
I’m adjusting my tie and checking for any missed beard stubble. A quick shower and shave gets me ready in about 15 minutes. It’s just a matter of finding some good socks to go with my George dress shoes and lining them up with a great jacket. Taking a cue from a predetermined colour code, I choose the blue tie. Complete – I look like a boss. I check on the others to see if they are ready: nope, still an hour to go apparently. Hmmm, this is what happened when we went to pick out the gown.
Yes, it’s a special day when I dress to the nines. My daughter is ready to leave high school and is graduating today. We had been busy getting ready for this, shopping at the elegant clothing store in downtown Val-d’Or.
I had in tow one mother and two aunts and I figured that my taste for clothing was infinitely off for this type of shopping, so I snuck off across the street for a double short espresso and a Nanaimo bar. It turned out that shopping for fancy food was about the same as shopping for fancy clothing, as some very picky eaters were slowing down the very short line-up at the counter. Finally, after a gut-twisting 10 minutes, I got my caffeine fix and the best alternative to a Snickers bar. I consumed the two rather inelegantly, and then headed back to the store.
Astonishingly, there was a tie between three dresses and some negotiation remained on the colour coordination. So I relaxed and marvelled at the female shopping machines. It was amazing, watching another couple of ladies choose a scarf after trying several dresses. My little group worked the saleslady into a discount fever, thankfully for my pocketbook.
I had no idea that shopping could be like this, until I had a flashback of a similar store in Montreal. It was a three-story shop and every floor had oodles and oodles of endless fashion-related items. I wondered when I could spring into action and carry the shopping bags out of the store. Wandering around, I lost everyone but managed to find my way back outside. Hanging around the entrance were other men, looking anxious and muttering a lot. One looked like he was ready to have a sunstroke, but I quickly realized that he was listening to some hard rock music and was on another planet. At least he had some sense.
Back in the store, I finally whipped out my debit card and bought what seemed to be the lightest shopping session ever. Even the discount was pleasant. After further chitchat with the saleslady, it turned out that we knew each other – she had been my late father’s neighbour. Then I felt that the hefty discount had more effect and we left the store. On the flight back home, I wondered if our luggage would make it, as Great Whale is notorious for bad weather and full aircrafts, but no, everything arrived intact.
Already a half-hour late, my pacing begins to bug everyone so we leave for the school where the ceremony is to take place. Another 45 minutes spin by and we’re finally ready to walk out and present this year’s crop of young adults. My pride nearly bursts my already tight shirt as my daughter receives her diploma and a few awards to boot. I make a small observation that the dress is covered by her graduation gown and the thought of the prom made me wonder a bit. Oh well, it’s a rite of passage for every graduate, leaving the sound of dad yelling “Wake up!” every morning with the quarter hour countdown until school, stuff like that.
As for the prom, I heard that the private bonfire was a little more exciting. I know because other parents did their own detective work and discovered more details. Soon they will turn into little money-makers and my pocketbook will be a little less stressed.