As the weekend came to an end, I realized that I spent it sobbing like a child at Toy Story 3, and almost getting mugged at the bank up the street from me. Just another typical weekend for Martin Joseph O’Connor.

This past weekend we finally got Toy Story 3 in the mail from Netflix. We couldn’t wait to show Jack the movie partly because we knew he would love it and really enjoy it.  But mostly because if I had to watch Toy Story 2 one more time I think I am pretty sure I would be in some sort of consideration for a record with the Guinness Book folks.  As we settled in to watch it, I did feel pretty confident that this sequel wouldn’t be a letdown similar to Bill and Ted’s Bogus Journey, or even worse — Weekend At Bernie’s 2. Almost from the get-go I was just as entranced with the movie as my son was.  But there was a difference — he was almost emotionless while I was bawling my eyes out.  It was probably one of the saddest movies I have ever seen.  But let me get this out there right now, I am definitely not a macho guy. I cry like a baby at Rudy, Rocky, and even cry during Tommy Boy when his dad dies.  Toy Story 3 got me because the boy Andy has grown up and is off to college.  I look at my son, and he is almost 3 already. It’s going too fast.  I thought about my first day of college, when my parents both had tears in their eyes, and I just didn’t understand it.  Now I do. And it took a digitally animated movie to do so.

The movie itself was very entertaining as they all are.  Before I had a child, I never saw any of these movies but I always heard from parents about the “wink — wink nudge — nudge” moments of these children’s movies where the movie studio sneaks in stuff adults will find humorous. And while I do enjoy it, I wonder what the allure is for kids.  Jack, my nephew, and my cousin’s boy are all obsessed with these Toy Story movies with the same kind of passion I have for buffalo wings and music.  But then hey, if it buys me a little peace and quiet for an hour or so on a long Sunday afternoon — I’m not complaining!

A couple things I thought of while watching it.  Andy was supposed to bring Woody, the cowboy toy voiced by Tom Hanks, to college.  If I brought Woody to college, I am pretty sure that within a week, my roommate or someone on my hall would have tried to make a bong out of “him”. Was Andy really thinking clearly about this? What would a young lady say upon seeing a toy in his room during a drunken late-night hook up? It could have totally killed Andy’s groove!  Regardless, the movie was fun to watch but has me never wanting to throw Jack’s toys out.  I also asked Jack to promise to never grow up, but his mother assured me that if he is anything like me — he won’t! 

I am not digging the fact that I almost got mugged last night.  I drove up to Bank of America to take money out so I didn’t have to do it in the morning. I did this for a number of reasons. First — it was Sunday night and I always have trouble sleeping on Sunday nights. Second — today is the Early Decision deadline for my applicants at work. My work phone is probably ringing right now (the emails are coming in about 10 an hour) and the phone will probably not stop all day tomorrow and the next day.  So I wanted to get all my stuff ready so I could zip out the door this morning. (Which of course didn’t happen, I still kid myself)

Anyway, I pull up and leave the car running. Punch in my pin and out of the fog off Broadway a dude appears. Smoking a cigarette and asking me if he can use my phone. I get caught like a deer in headlights. I don’t even say anything I just hand the phone over. He is giving me the classic Gloucester story about this one did this, and that bad thing happened, his girl skipped town, and his friend owes him money but is locked up, and his phone broke. (In “Gloucesterese” this translates into — I’m addicted to drugs and need to call my connect)

After a few exchanges of “yo”, “where you at”, “I’m here” and “alright”, he hands me back the phone and thanks me. The thing that grabbed me was there was no “whose phone are you calling from” question asked by the other party. As if random numbers come up on this guys phone all the time. (I know, I can be extremely naive)  Bottom line, kid was nice and thanked me.

He slips off into the night, I take the 20 bucks out of the ATM, and ponder what just went down. He could have had my phone, my bank account, and my car with just the flash of a weapon of any sort.  But then I realize, if he took the phone, he is stuck with a shitty Env3 that butt dials my friends, turns off for no reason, and battery dies after a few calls. If he asked me to empty my bank account, he’d be very disappointed. Sure, he could have a field day in the new Dollar General in town, but he wouldn’t be able to purchase too many narcotics with it. If he took my car, I’d thank him.  My 1999 Nissan Altima has 167,551 miles on it, the air conditioning doesn’t work, the driver side window doesn’t go down, the passenger side mirror is broken off, the passenger side visor is snapped off, and the car stalls when it’s too hot out.  And it smells like wet dog from when it got flooded in the PATCO parking lot.  I actually almost offered him the car.

But then I thought, if he did hold me up, what would I tell the police.  “Officer, he was a skinny, jittery dude, wearing one of those hats that you could use the brim as a level to make home improvements with, he had on a striped golf shirt that was 10 sizes too big, a silver chain, he had a shaved head, and patchy facial hair”. The police officer would surely chuckle at me and say “Marty you just described 75% of Gloucester.” Happy to say, I am still safe and sound with my dumpy car, crappy phone, and bank account full of peanut shells.     

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