PARENTS IN TOWN

My parents were up here this weekend for a sixtieth birthday party. And while they tried to convince me that the 60th coincided with an already-planned trip to see me, I knew better.

I often look at my parents trying to work out which characteristic I got from which parent. It’s a fun game I like to play with them where they each claim the good ones and blame the bad ones on the grandparents or a distant uncle. It’s a tug of war which always starts with:

Me: At least I’ve got thick hair.
Mom: That’s from my side of the family.
Me: I hate my feet.
Mom: You have your father’s feet.
Dad: She gets her intelligence from me.
Mom: Spell ‘intelligence’.
Dad: Why, can’t you?

And so it goes on. I was apoplectic with excitement for them to arrive, even more so, since they were arriving at Lanseria, an airport new to me.

Arriving at Lanseria, I could not for the life of me, find the arrival terminal. Assuming passengers were just parachuted out the plane into the parking lot on the way to O.R. Tambo, I stood outside to catch my parents as they fell from the sky. A very helpful, very small employee whose name was Lance showed me where the tiny little passage was, in the tiny little airport where the passengers entered through. When I asked if his name was short for Lanseria, he didn’t look very impressed and wondered off into his tiny little office.

I joined all the little kids up on the Viewing Deck as we watched the plane land and I watched in fascination and fear as my parents got off the plane. This time it was not so much thanking the God genes that I didn’t get my Dad’s ability to walk like a duck, but I started wondering ‘Is this what I’m going to be like when I’m older?’

My mother gracefully stepped off the plane stairs and started walking towards the building. Two minutes later, I watched as she realised she had lost my dad. I could almost hear her say to herself, ‘Oh God, where is he now?’ as she turned around and started walking back to find him. She was immediately assisted by a man in an oversized vest, who assumed she was crazy and was trying to get back on the plane. Obviously explaining that her husband was an idiot, the man released her as she walked around the plane in search of my Dad. He was found at the back of the plane fiddling with his luggage which he forgot he had put on the plane in the first place and finally, the two of them fell through the arrival doors.

The rest of the day consisted of going to various venues in Jo’burg where my Dad had left stuff behind on a previous trip and finally the two of them got ready for their sixtieth. It was a fairly formal occasion and my mother came out the room looking sophisticated, glamorous and five years younger than she actually is. We watched as my Dad came out wearing blue polyester pants, shoes that had a hole in them and a short sleeved white shirt.

Mom: Oh my God.
Me: Dad, your shoes have a hole in them.
Dad: Gives my feet room to breathe.
Mom: Love, where’s your suit?
Dad: I left it here the last time I was in Jo’burg. I thought we could fetch it today but I forgot where I left it.
Me: Dad, are those polyester pants?
Dad: My finest polyester pants I’ll have you know.
Mom: Sigh. Are you ready?
Dad: Am I what?
Mom: READY?!
Dad: For what?
Me: The Ice Age.
Mom: The party.
Dad: Oh the party? Yes, let’s go.
Mom: Where’s the card?
Dad: What card?
Mom: The card. For the present.
Dad: What present?
Mom: Sigh. Never mind.

And as I watched my Dad do his duck walk to the car and my mother shouting at him because he said he wasn’t deaf, it was because she wasn’t ‘announciating’ and she calmly said ‘it’s annunciating love, not announciating’ that I realised I’m in a world of shit. I’m twenty plus years younger than them and have a future of forgetfulness and hearing aids to look forward to. And if my Dad’s anything to go by, I’ll be dressing in polyester doing a duck walk to parties.