An Impractical Joke

Kevin's query triggered this early marriage memory.

Flashback to February of 1992:

Kadie and I are in our first year of school in Fort Worth. I am in seminary while she is wrapping up her R.N. at TCU. Scooter, Skeeter and Squealer do not yet exist.

It is a cold morning and I am preparing to go to work at the library. We lived in B.H. Carroll Park in one of the two-bedroom apartments. I drove the 73’ canary yellow Volkswagon SuperBeetle and Kadie drove the first love of my life, a 1984 Suburban. (The wifey always gets the best car of course. Although in this case the "best" was certainly relative). Since the weather is cold, Kadie likes to allow the Suburban to heat up in the morning before she gets into it. She would turn it on, lock the doors to it, and finish getting ready in the house. (The parking lot was located very close to our apartment, maybe 25 feet away). The Suburban would then heat up and get toasty warm so that when she got in she would have a comfortable ride to school.

I expressed concern to her that it might not be the safest place to keep a running car, even with the doors locked. Someone might steal it. But we never reached a consensus in our conversation. One morning I went to work but forgot something. When I returned to our parking lot, I saw the suburban gently running, the tell-tale sign of condensation floating out of its tail-pipe.

I actually remember thinking “I’m going to teach Kadie a lesson.” [I interrupt this narrative, from the vantage point of 15 years marriage, to say that a husband should NEVER have this thought, and if he is foolish enough to think it, he certainly should never act on it]. So I parked the Bug down the street and then I returned and moved the Suburban. I parked it on the next block and then I returned to the parking lot, hiding behind some cars and watching our back door.

I shivered and waited about five minutes. While waiting, I planned on what to do next. I had thought she would walk out of the apartment and I would say something like “So, did you lose something?” amidst much laughter. But that is not quite how it turned out. There would be much less laughter than I had anticipated.

Finally, Kadie opened the door and….stopped. She stared for a moment at where the Suburban should be. Then I watched in horror as she turned, went back into the apartment and slammed the door. Now I was struck with indecision. Should I wait here for her to return? But then I realized she might be calling campus security, so I raced across the parking lot and went careening into the door as I clambered into the kitchen.

Now picture this from Kadie’s perspective. The car is missing, so she was worried about thieves. Then she went into the kitchen to call me at work to tell me what was going on. All the while she is terrified that these thieves might still be around. Then I came crashing into the kitchen, slamming open the door. (Who knew you could slam open a door?!). She immediately thought I was one of the car thieves and let out an unholy scream of terror.

She began speaking to me again last Thursday.