Another Rite Of Passage

The #1 son is off dehydrating himself at the Vans Warped Slam thingamajigger at Verizon Amphitheater. He said it started at 11:00 and ends at 9:00. I expect him to look like a lobster when he arrives home. A wrinkled, dehydrated lobster. With a crabby disposition.

Of course, when he instructed his friend to buy tickets while he was away at Boys State, he didn't know the area would be a blast furnace today. I'm not crazy about him venturing into the city on his own. But how am I gonna keep him down here on the farm, once he's driven himself to take the SAT and pick up pictures at Creve Coeur Camera? He was driving his little red Ford Ranger club cab. And hauling a guy and two girls with him. It's not exactly a limo ride.

#1 is wearing a white t-shirt. He swears there is a roof thingy so he won't be in the sun. I am not familiar with the Verizon Amphitheater, so I don't know if he's pulling my leg. I told him to take that shirt off and twist it around his head like desert headgear. I stopped short of sending him a white handkerchief to tie at each corner and lay on his scalp. His brain is going to scramble while it cooks under his dark hair all afternoon.

I gave him a few bucks with the understanding that it was for food and water. He says he has $50 in Google bucks or some such thing that he can get by swiping his phone. I'm a technology imbecile, so I'm sure I'm not explaining it right. All I know is that my money is probably going to be squirreled away and used for photography purposes.

I also told him not to inhale too much pot smoke. Short of holding his breath for ten hours, I'm not quite sure how he's going to accomplish that.