Every 21 Seconds Brian D. Sweeney, Tate Publishing Page 9 of 12

Joe McAvoy, twenty-eight, was also a newlywed and an electrician like Tim. When you thought of Joe, the first thing that came to mind was his loyalty, especially to the Cubbies. To me, Joe, who was always a good time, was the perfect final touch to this boys’ trip. Joe always stuck with the basics when it came to wardrobes or cars. Joe liked his cars made in America and his wardrobe simple, as long as it was comfortable. Joe always went along with the program, as long as the program included having fun, and he had a knack for keeping things simple. Plus, he had just been married two months earlier, so he said he needed a short vacation.

As I mentioned earlier, I was always the one throwing the party or planning the trip. I was never good at sitting still. Kevin’s dad always said that any bizarre event had me behind it. At that time I had two young children, Katie and Jimmy.

I also like to keep everything I own in its original condition. Whether it is a car, a lawnmower, or a house, it doesn’t matter; I have to keep everything I own in perfect condition. I still have that Schwinn Continental I received when I was twelve, and yes, it is in perfect condition. I had been married to Mary Beth since I was twenty-one. Mary Beth was always the logical one. I was the dreamer and still am. I just figured the more dreams I had, the better my chances of one actually being realized. Mary Beth always thought things through. She was so pretty and still is. If I had a dime for every time I heard, “How’d you get her?”, I could have retired years ago. Mary Beth was the middle one of three sisters. She was very independent and relied on no one. Ever since the day I met her she was independent minded and somewhat on her own.

I have been employed at United Parcel Service (UPS) since I was twenty-three. How I ended up working at UPS was pure luck. I had been driving a truck for a marble company and was barely making ends meet. At the time I had a one-year-old baby and another on the way, and we were broke. We were somehow able to get enough money for a down-payment on a house we bought from my brother Mike. We put every dime we had down on the place, and at the time I was making seven dollars, thirty-five cents an hour, so there weren't a lot of dimes to put down. My brother Steve had applied to work as a UPS package car driver. When they called to offer him the job, he declined because he had recently been offered a job as a police officer and was preparing to enter the police academy. After telling this to my brother Mike, Mike recommended that he call them back and ask if I could have the interview. When I walked in the door, Mary Beth said, “UPS called to see if you would be interested in driving a truck.” I thought to myself, UPS, UPS…oh, the brown trucks. Sure I would, so I called and scheduled my interview for the following day. All went well, and I was hired as a driver; However, after almost a year, they asked me to interview for a management position in sales. I had nothing to lose, and the job appeared to be a good fit. Low and behold, I was awarded the position of account executive. Of course, this meant I had to buy and wear a suit—suits are something I am not a big fan of. However, the opportunity was great. UPS was good to me from day one.

This particular weekend getaway with the friends began with me dropping the kids off at my parents' house while Mary Beth was working. Upon leaving my parents’ house, my mom pleaded with me to stay home. On my way out of my mom's house all I heard was, “I got a bad feeling about this, Brian. All you guys do on these trips is drink beer. Why don’t you just stay home with your wife and kids?” I laughed on the way out the door. She said that exact same thing every time; however, this time she went a bit overboard listing all the reasons we should not go. I'm not sure I ever gave her a reason not to worry; she was pretty much right on most accounts.

We all met at Kevin’s house and piled into his white 1989 Lincoln Town Car. I volunteered to drive. Coincidentally, I was remodeling Kevin’s house at the time. I was converting what was a garage into a family room and was on the last step, the most important step: building the bar. Kevin suggested that we stop at 7-Eleven before we headed north. I had a bad feeling about this first stop. The four ran in and returned with a cheap cooler, ice, and a case of twelve-ounce alcoholic beverages commonly referred to as beer. I popped the trunk from the inside, assuming they would put what they bought in the trunk. The four of them walked right past the open trunk. I kind of laughed, got out, shut the trunk, and asked Kevin if grabbing a case of beer was a good idea. He had his usual sarcastic response, “You’re right. One case might not do it. Hey, Joe, run in and grab another case.” I just shook it off and said, “You guys do your thing and I’ll refrain and drive.” One of them mumbled that that would leave more for them.

The trip to Wisconsin was always interesting. Every ten miles we seemed to become a bit less attached to all our responsibilities. We forgot about work, bills, what my mom said, and just seemed to lose a few years, and it was mandatory that the same music we listened to when we were eighteen was on hand for the trip.

We stopped for lunch outside of Lake Geneva at place called the “Brat Stop.” This place was a taste of what the real Wisconsin was all about. Packers’ signs were everywhere, and every type of cheese made was sold there. We stayed for about an hour and then proceeded to the cottage.

When we arrived, I called every cab and limo company in Lake Geneva. However, each company only had one vehicle, and there were none available. I volunteered to be the designated driver, which meant I would drink half of what the rest did. Typically, that plan worked for about the first half-hour. So off we went to the dog track. While at the Geneva Dog Track, we lost some money, had a few beers, and, as always, verbally abused each other. We left the track at eleven that evening and headed to a bar down the street from the cottage called "Reilly’s North." I had been in there several times over the years. This place was a Wisconsin postcard. It was a small dump nestled in the woods and generally was not crowded. The jukebox hadn’t been updated since Jimmy Carter was in office. That night though, they had a karaoke, so it was busy. God forbid you missed the opportunity to sing “Paradise by the Dashboard Light,” which, fifteen years after it came out, was still listed under the “new releases” column.

From Every 21 Seconds by Brian D. Sweeney, published by Tate Publishing & Enterprises. Copyright © 2009 Brian D. Sweeney. Reprinted with the author's permission. All rights reserved. www.tatepublishing.com.
 

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