My daughter Lucy had always been a good student - not an excellent student, but a good one. Usually B's, the occasional A. She graduated from high school with a 3.0. Now she was 19, in her sophomore year of college, and her grades were slipping. Low C's, and even the odd D. Her mother and I had several sit-down talks with her to no avail. We suspect too much partying and not enough studying - she certainly doesn't seem to be home much, and since we lifted her curfew she has been coming home at all hours. We are getting frustrated and angry - we aren't paying out the nose for her to fritter away her education. I want to get to the bottom of this...I may have an opportunity to do a little investigation.
It's Friday night, and predictably Lucy is "meeting a friend at the library to study." At this point I can't believe she expects us to believe this brazen lie. We give her our normal suspicious goodbye, and I tell my wife my plan. "I'm going to follow her to whatever party she is going to, and when I find her I'm going to yank her out of there and give her an ultimatum - she either shapes up or she ships out."
"Brad, do you think that's a good idea?" my wife asks. "Maybe we shouldn't embarrass her in front of her friends..."
"I think she needs a little embarrassment...she's embarrassing herself with her abysmal grades!" My wife shrugs, and I quickly leave the house. I can see Lucy a block or two away, turning right on an intersecting street. We live about a twenty minute walk from the university, and it is Lucy's habit to walk instead of drive. Soon enough we are on fraternity row, and for a second I'm puzzled by the number of giggling students wearing glitter-coated masks until I remember that it's Mardi Gras. In Philadelphia, I muse...Any chance to throw a party.
I see Lucy disappear into one of the many houses blaring music, with the porch crowded with raucous, laughing students clutching the ubiquitous red Solo cups that are the hallmark of keggers everywhere. I suddenly realize that they aren't going to let a 50-year old man walk into this party - I'm sure they will think I'm the police or other type of kill-joy. I do some fast thinking.
"Hey!" I say to a passing boy in a shiny black mask with an exaggerated smile that covers his entire face. "I'll give you twenty dollars for your mask," I offer. The boy laughs at my perceived stupidity and readily makes the transaction. I put it on and realize that I should probably lose my button-down as well. I take it off and toss it over the wrought-iron fence that borders the frat house. The rest of my outfit is acceptable - white undershirt, jeans, and old white sneakers. I'm fortunate enough to have a full head of brown hair which is only slightly receding at the temples, so that is another thing I don't have to worry about.
I walk into the house with no difficulty. In fact, no one seems to notice me. It's strange, being the oldest guy in the house. I feel like a spy, yet I also feel a strange sense of liberation at being undercover. It makes me feel young again and reminds me of parties I attended in my own college days. "Like father, like daughter," I think grimly.
I start going from room to room, looking for Lucy among the crowds. I'm at a disadvantage since everyone is wearing masks, but she's my daughter and I figure that I would recognize her anywhere. She isn't on the ground floor, so I climb the stairs and find her in the first room that I enter. I can tell it's her by her braided auburn hair that falls over one shoulder. She is wearing a flimsy t-shirt that exposes two inches of her belly and a short ruffled skirt. She has on black knee-high panty hose and high heels, which accentuate her legs. She has her mother's legs - long and shapely.
I am scoping out an out-of-the-way place where I can stand unnoticed when I am bumped roughly from behind. A young man pushes past me with many strings of beads hanging from his forearm. "Who wants beads?" he shouts. Some of the girls yell and laugh and clap saying "I do!"
