Yesterday, arriving at a whopping 15 miles per hour, a multitude of antique Buicks and stage coaches were curiously parked alongside Main Street as the distinct scent of old people began to radiate from a nearby building. Inside, a massive crowd of gray-haired senior citizens sought refuge and comfort from the demanding life of retirement. At the Andover Inn, the group of elderly visitors finally realized that this weekend was not Grandparents’ Weekend, as they had previously thought, but Parents’ Weekend. “Parents’ Weekend? Seriously? Well, son of a gun! I went through all the trouble of getting that liver transplant for nothing. I even spit-shined my wheelchair in preparation for this big shindig and now you’re telling me that this isn’t even my weekend? Well I’ll be a monkey’s uncle!” said Don Johnson, a grandfather of three students. Due to a lack of communication between the event coordinators and the senior citizens, many other grandparents will also be stepping in and playing the role of “monkey’s uncle” this weekend. “It’s all those darn-tootin’ head honchos’ faults,” said Everett Moore, a local corncob pipe enthusiast. “Why’d they have to go and make that goshdarn print on them Grandparent’s Weekend calendars so small? They ought to know better. Why don’t they understand that granddaddies like me can’t read those thimble-sized words? My generation requires at least size 36 font. Look at me! I’m old. I’m senile. You can’t blame me for screwing up the dates.” Similar negative sentiments were shared by other grandparents, and the atmosphere only became more chaotic with each passing second. “I remember them saying in the letter that we had to check the Andover website for updates, but let’s be real here. I’m 87 years old. I’ve lived through WWII and I was alive to see Michael Jackson change from a cute little boy to a white woman. Does this school honestly think that I’m going to learn this whole ‘internets’ thing in the last few precious moments I have in this life?” said Agnes Schmidt, known fondly as ‘Babushka’ by her grandchildren. One man was trapped inside a Logan Bus Shuttle for hours because the wheelchair lift had malfunctioned. “It’s all you guys’ fault.” he said. “If it weren’t for you whipper-snappers’ and your newfangled ways of doing things, I’d still be sitting on the porch of my condo in Florida, watching the birds fly by. But no, I have to be here, spending a beautiful Thursday evening stuck in some stupid van.” While most grandparents were somewhat angered and disappointed with the situation, the employees at the Andover Inn opted to look on the brighter side. “Well, I’ve never seen so many liver spots at one time,” said one waitress. “And think of all the life experiences in this room. I bet we could be bored listening to these guys’ stories for days, if not weeks on end.” However, many grandparents have already started to vacate the Inn and return to their respective time shares. When asked about remaining on campus for a leisurely family weekend, old man Johnson responded, “Why the heck should I? It’s Parents’ Weekend, not Grandparents’ Weekend. I clearly don’t belong here. The whole reason I trekked out here in the first place was to tell my Jimmy boy that there probably isn’t much time left for me… but hey, that can wait until next May, right?”
