My dad is my hero in every way you can possibly imagine. He works hard, he never complains, he does everything in his power to be a great father and husband and to make life better for our family. I love him very much and I’m not sure what I’d do without him.
After 26 years of knowing my dad you could say I’ve come to expect many of his habits and tendencies. Maybe it’s because I am his first-born son that I know these things. That by some unknown power of the universe our brains are magically connected and I can understand his every thought. Like in that movie Bruce Almighty where he knows what people are thinking before they do. Or maybe, it has something to do with the fact that he was responsible for helping to create me and we share a lot of the same genes. It’s rather hard to say, for certain.
Two Bodies, One Brain
Either way, I often know what my dad is going to do or how he’s going to act, sometimes before he even does. For instance, if it’s a hot summer day I know my dad is going to find the biggest tree in the yard and strategically place himself under it for the duration of the barbecue. He’ll turn to my mother and ask, “Did you bring the sunscreen?” Of course, she will have. And he’ll proceed to repeatedly re-apply throughout the day while his forehead still manages to turn a lovely shade of fuchsia.
Or maybe it’s one of those days where all kids are home and we happen to go somewhere together. It’ll be a great day. We’ll laugh, we’ll joke, we’ll probably tease my mom a little bit. Not too much, but enough to the point where she’ll say, “you’re always picking on me!” We’ll stop and eventually make our way out to the car to head home. My brother will yank on the door handle. It’s locked. All eyes will turn to my dad to see where the keys are as he stares inquisitively at the sky trying to remember where he placed them.
The entire crew will then return to where we came from to collectively search for the keys. After some gentle jostling, the family will approach the point of an angry mob, which will trigger my dad to remember where he placed the keys. They’re inside of a coat pocket, which he had stuff inside another coat pocket, which he had stuffed inside another coat pocket, which he had left on the top shelf of the pantry when he was looking for the last of the stove-top popcorn kernels.
We’ll Always Have Bogota
So, as you can see, I know my dad like the back of my hand. In almost every circumstance I know how he’s going to act, because it’s exactly how I would act. But this past week as my family came down to visit me in Bogota, Colombia, Thomas Joseph Dunn pulled off one of the most devious, diabolical acts of all-time. It was something that not even I would have seen coming in my wildest dreams. When they rewrite the Dunn Family history books some day they will talk about this moment in great detail. It was conniving, it was brilliant and it was truly iconic.
Our week in Bogota kicked off like any pearly white American family’s would… We visited the property our kin. The former President of Colombia, duh. We were told prior to arriving that it was a “farm,” but I’d consider that description to be pretty disrespectful to farms. This wasn’t so much a farm as a compound. I say “compound” because “resort” or “mansion” probably make me sound like an uppity douche. Although, there were lime trees that draped over the infinity pool, so maybe it was a farm after all?
Anyways, our week continued without much of a hitch. We hiked, we drank, we laughed. My dad participated in the world’s longest stare down with the attendant at the register of the pharmacy. Her question of “Would you like a bag?” in Spanish seemed to paralyze him. 15, 30, 45 seconds went by without a response. Finally, deep down, way way way down, probably somewhere similar to where he misplaced his keys, he found the word he was looking for.
“Si.”
Goodbye, Colombia
My family’s week in Bogota ended much like it began… At another property of another former president of Colombia. It was a spectacular feast and an incredible way to cap off a perfect trip. But we would soon find out that my dad wasn’t ready to leave the country just yet.
And really, could you blame him? Colombia is an absolutely incredible place. Beautiful women, beautiful landscapes, and those little fried balls stuffed with potatoes and assorted meats that go down like candy.
A True Evil Genius
Like I’ve said, I usually know what my dad is thinking, but in this instance I never saw it coming. A mere 8 hours before my family was supposed to catch their flight back to Boston my dad checked himself into the local hospital, “Clinica del Country.” At the time, I thought the move was a bit silly. Sure, Colombia was great, but this seemed like a bit much. He wouldn’t stop there, however. Before we knew it, my dad had self-administered anesthesia and requested that the doctors cut him open. Now he was just being ridiculous. The flight was in 2 hours!!
Maybe it was because I was caught off-guard, maybe it was because I had consumed 200 empanadas earlier that day, but I swear right before he went under he picked his head up and ever-so-softly whispered, “Ryan, they can’t make me leave if I’m full of holes…”.
When he awoke from the operation I was waiting in the hospital room to see him. He had missed his flight along with my mother and my uncle, but for a guy who had just been cut open with a knife he seemed pretty happy. He asked me what time it was and mustered up a toothy grin when he realized they had missed their flight. We chatted for a bit before the shift change of nurses came in to adjust my dad’s IV and check his vitals. 5 absolutely stunning Colombian women stood over my dad has I stared awkwardly.
They packed up their things and left. I picked my jaw off the floor, while my dad and I shared a look and smiled. He had extended his vacation by a few days and was going to be justtttt fine.
Never leave Colombia, my friends.