Oh Say Can You See, Luke is Rea-lly Poo-py?!

Greg - Associate Staff Writer

For many years now, the 4th of July has been high on my favorite holidays list. The reasons are long and not interesting, minus the obvious that it doesn't cost money, always involves food, and has lots of explosions. My best 4th memories are not far distant. Spe-van, my canyon terrace buddy, would always help me organize an epic bash each year with swimming, BBQ, and ball playing. Things have quieted down the last couple of years, but this year was one to remember.

First off, the cliche's about Texas are all true. They are all proudly true. Things are bigger here, the Lone Star flag is displayed more than any other, and there is a lot of country - music that is. While I intern here only got the holidays off, so this was my second and final day off. Michelle found out about the "Freedom Over Texas" concert and food extravaganza from some friends, so we decided to check it out. After all, living in an apartment with none of your stuff isn't all that cool. We really didn't know what to expect when we arrived. All we really knew was that the cost was $5.

Houston is pretty good about having a diverse crop of people, but if there were any rednecks in town, they made their way here. A major road just outside of downtown was shut down and lots of stages were set up, along with a thousand food booths and carnival type rides. It rained earlier in the day but was hot by the afternoon, making for a very muggy day. I was delighted to find a sort of county fair going on, with - of course - the largest land-based firework show in the US. We came with some friends of ours and discussed what we were going to do. The main attractions were concerts and a pro volleyball tournament, so that narrowed it down. We picked a shady spot near the main stage along the border fence, which proved to be a great move. We had some grass on the parkway to hang out on. We sat and talked for a while and then the concert began at about 5pm.

Everyone knows I don't care for country music, but I also enjoy most any kind of live music (R&B and rap always excluded due to their position in the super sucky category). Anyway, the show kicked off with the Shirelles, a group I never heard of, but quickly found out that I knew all of their songs. They were performing on their 50th anniversary, and really did a great job. At some point between them and the next group, the real fireworks began.

Luke had done plenty of business earlier in the day, and we haven't had any blowouts for a while, so we didn't feel a need to pack extra clothes. Before leaving he had passed a nugget sized poo, all firm and non-sticky. All the mothers in the reading audience can stop rolling their eyes now at our inexperience. Sometime during one of the performances I noticed that dreaded little spot on Luke's shorts, which normally means a little runaway pee. I lifted up his shirt to see the damage, but stopped sort because it was stuck to his shorts with a fragrant brown paste. If I cussed regularly, that would have been an opportune moment, because that stuff was everywhere. Luke had a semi spherical blast radius, ranging from his belly button to the small of his back. How it went from bottom to belly button is still a mystery, as he was running around most of the day and not sitting so as to create a pressure situation. Still, the Texas heat and country music were clearly getting to him and the damage could not be undone.

The tag team of Greg and Michelle sprang into action - after a short regurge of course. The shirt was a total loss, with a ring of poo on the circumference of the bottom edge. The shorts were no better, with an equal fecal necklace around the waist. After most of the wipes had expired, we found ourselves with a naked 20 month old, a mountain of waste, and no real way to get home for reinforcements. From out of nowhere, a fellow parent showed up (because everyone in a 50 foot radius was watching of course) with a pair of shorts. "Take these," she said, "I've been there and done that. " She handed us a pair of 3T shorts and a warm smile. Not believing this new fortune, we thanked her more times than was prudent and dressed Lukie Pookie. He would just have to go shirtless the rest of the day.

The council of Knight determined that a detachment must be sent down to the dispose of the waste. Prudence called for a trip to the trash bins near to the port-a-potties, a quarter mile journey. The fellowship of the diaper consisted only of me, as the burden was mine alone to bear being the daddy. I wished holding the diaper made me invisible though. Everything was piled into a grocery bag, which served to be little more than a platter or beacon with which to carry the used wipes and diaper. Of course I had to carry it away from my body, making sure that it wouldn't get anything on me, which only made people stare at why I was walking so oddly and what I was holding to warrant a near straight arm carry method and then turn up their noses is disgust. I must have passed several thousand people (we guessed more than 50,000 total were there all packed in like sheep) on the way to the bin.

The rest of the day went fine. We dined on some of the best carne asada tacos I've ever had, and as the sun went down the temperature declined. The music had some real country moments. I swear one of the singers was a girl from the nearest trailer park who was certain life had little more in it then beer and trucks. The fireworks were spectacular, and the day proved to be a fantastic memory. Minus one little hiccup of course.