Nuts

Nuts

As June is now upon us, our house becomes a summertime destination for our friends.  Christina and I are reminded that some of our guests have children with Peanut allergies.  When they arrive, our place is devoid of this legume lothario.  I am fortunate enough not to have this affliction.  But this is a story of my own Peanut “reaction”.

It was a Sunday night nearing the end of my junior year in college.  I was returning to the dorms after a date of dinner and drinks.  That evening though was the final note on relationship refrain.  Unfortunately it had been like a George Thorogood song…it got you rockin’ but after a while you realized it was just the same 3 chords over and over again.  It was not going anywhere.  Feeling down that a chapter was closing, I arrived to a pleasant surprise of a parking spot adjacent to my building.  Parking was a premium on the streets of Philly, especially on Sunday nights when students returned to campus.

I exited my car, now sporting all four hubcaps, and appreciated my consolation prize.  As I began to walk away, my car was hit with what I would describe as hail.  It was dark, but the stars were out and the moon almost full…so this was not Mother Nature.  I was far enough away from the closest tree, so acorns could not be the culprit.  As I looked around the car to see what it could be, it happened again.  This time I found the foe…PEANUTS!  This was no random act.  Only a few days earlier, as I was getting into my car, my roommate noticed a smashed apple on the hood.  I was livid!  I went into a tirade.  My friend just stood back and took note of how pissed off I was.  My vehicle was located below the dorm room windows.  I looked up and challenged them all to have enough balls to do this when I was there.  No takers, but I could almost hear them mumble, “What is Walsh bitchin’ about now”.

This time it was night.  I looked up at a quiet 15-story building and the streetlight dimmed my vision of the higher floors.  I was able to conclude this attack originated more than half way up.  I could not stay parked under this pee of Peanuts.  I pulled away in my car, forcibly removed.  Almost ½ an hour later I came upon another spot, blocks away.  I was going to find those responsible.

Steaming all the way back to the dorm, I arrived and found the resident assistant in charge.  I told him my parable of the Peanuts.  With my assumption of floors, we began our surveillance.  The even number floors were the guy floors…so we left the female floors alone.  We noticed my previous parking place was still abandoned below…perhaps due to the preponderance of Peanut shells about.  We peered out the lobby’s window on the 10^th floor…waiting for an unwitting participant to park.  Finally someone had arrived…but the Peanuts did not.  I was pissed.  Either the Peanut perpetrator had retired for the evening or I must have been singled out.  I was fuming he eluded my wrath.  The RA said there was nothing more he could do that night.  He brought me to his office to write up the incident, which was difficult to do without expletives.

Frustrated my foe had escaped apprehension I stormed off to my room.  Blood pressure a’boilin’ I wanted to relay my recent adventure to my roommate.  As I approached I could hear our TV…good he was still awake.  I opened the door angrily and spotted him on the couch.  As I turned the corner, before I could begin to reveal my evening, he just turned to me with a one-word offering…

Peanut?