I was driving, and the weather was glorious. I had the top down, Three Days Grace on the stereo and the sun on my face. Suddenly, I noticed a group of girls trying desperately to get my attention. They were all wearing skimpy outfits, bouncing up and down, waving and calling to me, beckoning me toward them. They wanted something only I could give. Did they want my body? Did they want my years of experience? Did they want to offer me a starring role in the latest Girls Gone Wild?
They just wanted my money.
It wasn't a dream -- it was the Senior Class of 2005 high school charity car wash fund raiser, and I was stuck front and center, idling at a red light they were currently working. They were trying to direct traffic over to the parking lot where, for the measly sum of five US dollars, you could have your car washed and dried by teenage girls in bikini tops and daisy dukes.
Now, I find this idea as appealing as most guys would (forgetting for the moment that I was probably as old as some of their fathers), but I was not what you would call the ideal candidate for a car wash. One, I was in a convertible with the top down, and two, my car was spotlessly clean. I'm pretty sure they were just happy to be flaunting it on a hot summer day, and it really didn't matter to whom they were directing their wanton advances. School's out baby.
So I smiled, gave a half-hearted wave, and the light turned green and I went on my way, which was really not so much "cruising around town" as it was "cruising to the local convenience store" for some Restaurant Style Tostitos and spicy salsa dip that I had forgotten to pick up earlier. This was my second trip, because I would forget my ass if it wasn't connected to the rest of me, or so my grandmother used to tell me.
I did notice one thing, however. While I might not have been the ideal candidate to get a car wash, these girls were not the ideal candidates to actually give one. To put it bluntly, they all could have skipped a meal or fifteen and maybe hit the treadmill a few times a week instead of watching all that reality TV and chatting on their cellphones.
I am not sure what is up with 19 year old girls these days, or teens in general, but I do know that the fashions of the day do not smile kindly on particular body types. I also know that this fact rarely stops them from proudly donning said fashions, excess baggage be damned.
In more than a few cases at this particular car wash, there was some very serious and potentially deadly over-stressed denim in evidence. Just one bad stretch to reach the center of a windshield and there would likely be horrible consequences for all involved.
Ten pounds of meat packed in a five pound bag, is all I'm saying.
Now, I have nothing against the womanly form in all its glorious permutations, but an unwritten car wash law was being blatantly broken, and that law dictates that most of these girls should not have been working the front lines. You don't put your less talented team members on first string, is the point I'm trying to make. Does the food on the McDonalds commercials look anything at all like the food you actually get? No, it doesn't. And nobody really expects it to, because they realize it's all about the marketing.
When I went to school, we knew marketing. We knew how to do these things right. You'd put the hotties up by the road in order to lure in the men, and then you'd have the so-so chicks and the guys and gals from the AV club and the debate team doing the washing. It's a simple and amazingly effective concept, really.
Besides, it was all for a good cause, so who was going to bitch? Not the guy in the car who was getting the 5 buck wash and dry, that's for sure, so what the hell? We worked the system.
Maybe that isn't politically correct these days, but unless you wanted a enormous fat roll squeaking across your driver's side window, you probably would have been better off skipping this one. (Unless, of course, fat rolls do it for you -- in that case, by all means, go for it.)
I thought about tossing them 5 bucks for the valiant effort, but I had somebody right on my ass.
Maybe next time.