Last night, there was supposed to be a meteor shower starting at midnight. I was falling asleep in front of the TV but my dad made me go out with him at 11:30 p.m. I was wearing red plaid pajama pants, a purple sweatshirt my grandma gave me, giant MBT clown shoes, no bra, Mario Badescu Drying Lotion (opaque pink zit spot treatment) on my face, and wet curly hair. I really didn’t want to go.
We live in a very quiet neighborhood. At night, the streets look more like clean marble than asphalt. People drive big shiny cars and look down at red plaid pajama pants. Except for the guy with the ’80s mustache who walks a German Shepherd and speaks to no one—my dad thinks he is in the witness protection program. All the houses were dark at that hour because, as my dad pointed out, everyone has to walk their dogs early in the morning.
Of course, we saw one car. It slowed down right in front of us, as we were crossing the very driveway he was driving to. Spotlight on my outfit. So embarrassing!
But all in all…worth it. I saw 3 meteorites. I thought they were shooting stars, but my dad said they were ice, not hot balls of lava or whathaveyou. Funny that I chickened out of taking chemistry in high school, opting instead to take Earth & Space For Idiots and I still don’t know what a meteorite is. But it was cool to see.
Whenever my dad drags me somewhere, I get so annoyed, but then I’m always glad afterwards. Grr.