Hellidays - When Bad Holidays Happen To Good People

My mom hates bad neighborhoods. She has arranged her life in such a way that she never needs to see graffiti, witness someone cashing that county check, or inhale the urban aroma of a burning car down the corner. A triple-digit street number, no matter where it is, renders her cross-eyed and mute, with a bit of a grin, because it just sounds bad.

So, one April Fool's day, I decided to pull a prank on her that would put motherly instincts squarely at odds with her ghetto phobia.

I called and said "yeah, how're ya doin....? Me...fine...well, not really FINE...we have some car trouble, so we're at a pay phone down at 111th and Emerald, and we need someone to come pick us up...can you get in the car and give us a ride?" I wasn't quite prepared for what came next.

OH MY GOD - ARE YOU CRAZY! Get to a police station NOW! THERE IS NOTHING I CAN DO FOR YOU!!! (click). Then I tried to call back, and the line was busy for 10 minutes. I started to get worried, but finally it started ringing.

I just said "APRIL FOOL!" She started crying, I guess partly out of joy and partly from stress. I felt terrible for a week after doing it but, 15 years hence, it still makes me crack up. I still never found out what she was doing for the 10 minutes the line was busy.