Graduation – That time in
a parent’s life when finding a maneuverable parking space at the venue is more
nerve-wracking than the actual life-changing pomp and circumstance.
Today’s college graduation
event is emotional for several reasons.
First of all, it’s my youngest’s undergrad event, so it’s the last of
the major family graduations. After
this, it’s all about grad school, and those are more “relief” than “milestone”
events. Second of all, the graduation is
taking place at a venue I’ve never been to before in a city that I haven’t
tried to drive around for several decades.
In other words, I have no
frigging idea where I am going nor where I will park nor how to get back out
afterward to go home.
As we make our way down
Elm Street in beautiful downtown Manchester, I pass people walking from their
various parking spots and start to panic that I’m not going to find
anything. I turn down a side street and
immediately see a sign for event parking.
The lot is almost empty, and it’s right at the arena, and by “right at,”
I mean I am practically in the queue line of graduates.
I don’t care how much it
will cost me. I’m in. I hand the guy some cash, back in, and I’m
safely parked in the front row in the best spot in a small lot with no worries
about being stuck for an hour or more in a garage. Everything is going so well already!
Everything, that is,
except for the police tape.
When we leave the lot and
try to cut through the small tarred area to the venue, a police officer screams
at us to stay on the sidewalk. Well,
sorry, dude. Sue us. We’re just cutting through an empty lot. God forbid we walk a few feet over the macadam
to the graduation ceremony.
We do the whole perimeter
thing and meet up with my daughter in front of the building. I start wondering, “Did I lock the car?” Then I realize I forgot my water in the
car. Even though my vehicle is within
spitting distance of where I am gathering with family, there is no way I’m
going back. There is no way I’m circumnavigating
that tiny empty lot and having that damn cop scream at me again. Seriously.
Fuck that shit. My day is crazy
enough without getting arrested for jaywalking across an abandoned swath of
nothingness in beautiful downtown Manchester just to get a water bottle.
The graduation goes well. It’s semi-organized chaos, with no alphabetical
coordination to the event, and I manage to snap as many pictures as possible,
never quite certain when my kiddo is going to walk across the stage because we
are so far away from the front and because it’s basically mayhem up there. Afterward, we all meet on the grassy knoll in
front of the arena to take pictures, the backdrop of which is the gas station
across the street, which, mysteriously enough, is also cordoned off with police
tape.
Upon closer inspection,
there are crime scene investigators and news trucks all over the damn place. We come to realize that the police tape we
avoided earlier on our side of Elm Street is connected to the police tape on
the other side of Elm Street.
Apparently, a homicide has taken place right where we are parked,
standing, and holding graduation.
Sick to admit, but … How
cool is this? How often do you get to go
to a graduation event and walk through (or attempt to walk through until the
police yell at you) a murder investigation?
Most fascinating
graduation … ever!
After all, nothing says “Welcome
to Manch-Vegas; hope you enjoy your child’s graduation” quite like a
triple-stabbing and a homicide.
