Extra Special Happy Hour

There were about three minutes left in happy hour.

When I started crying.

Literally.

Tears coming out of my eyes.

Amazingly, it had nothing to do with the end of happy hour.

By that point we had pretty much wiped out the entire extra-value menu.

• 3 orders of chicken wings

• 2 plates of ahi tuna

• 1 bbq ribs

• 1 calamari

• 1 fried mushroom

• And six beers

Jenny Craig here we come.

Fortunately there were three of us.

So I only consumed 1/3 of the 10,000 calories.

I was midway through one of them Thai Wings when my phone rang.

It was my wife.

Normally she knows better than to disrupt me during this holiest hour of the day.

But I answered anyway.

And I’m glad that I did.

She started off the conversation by notifying me that we have done a great job as parents.

“Awwww,” I said.

But “HURRY UP, HAPPY HOUR ENDS IN THREE MINUTES!”

Is what I thought.

But she continued.

She told me one of the parents at her school came up to her today.

To talk about our 12-year old son.

Naturally her first thought was.... “what did he do now?”

But as the story continued, she quickly realized that this story was different.

This story was special.

It goes a little something like this....

Last week my son started middle school.

7th grade.

A pretty big deal.

For us.

A giant deal.

For a 12-year old.

He’s been in the same school for a few years now.

But this is the year he becomes one of the big boys.

The boy who gets a locker.

The boy who gets some freedom.

And the boy who gets to sit wherever he wants for lunch. 

During his lunch break on Thursday, my boy was sitting with a bunch of his boys in the cafeteria.

Just like he always does.

As he prepared to woof down his meal, his eyes wandered.

To another table.

Another table of seventh grade boys.

The cool guys.

Well as these... cool guys... were getting ready to enjoy their lunch.

They were joined by another boy from their grade.

A “special” boy.

A “slow” boy.

A boy who spends part of his day in a different part of the school.

Learning at a different level.

Well apparently the cool kids didn’t like the idea of a new lunch partner.

Or maybe there wasn’t enough room for all the cool people.

Or maybe they didn’t like the idea of that lunch partner. 

Whatever the reason.

They all got up.

One by one.

And left the table.

Leaving the “special” boy not feeling so special.

All by himself.

A feeling he’s probably felt.

More than once.

Now it would’ve been very easy for my son.

Or any 12-year old boy.

To see this, ignore it and go on with their lunch.

And their day.

But apparently it wasn’t easy for my son.

In fact when he saw the boy sitting all alone at the table.

He put his stomach on hold.

And let his heart take over.

My son picked up his lunch.

Got up from his table.

And joined the other boy.

For a special lunch.

For two.

One of the moms saw the whole thing and quickly reported back to my wife.

As my wife started sharing this story with me, I quickly figured out where it was headed.

And before she was done.

I was finished.

With tears filling up in my eyes.

Not the first time I’ve broken down at the end of happy hour.

And not the first time I’ve cried in my beer.


But this time it was for a good reason.