It was Field Day at my daughter's elementary school. I took some time off work to go up there, cheer her on and take some pictures. I was looking through the viewfinder of the video camera when I spied a mullet. I looked up from the camera and sure enough it was a for real, business in the front, party in the rear, "number one on the sides, six on the top and don’t touch the back" mullet.
Upon further inspection, there was actually a horizontal part in the hairline between the short hair and the flowing locks.
I don't know why I was so shocked. I mean, I live in Winder, GA, probably one of the foremost mullet capitals in the deep south. Don't forget we still have the Winder-Barrow Speedway just over the ridge from my house where every Saturday night we are blessed by the symphony of roaring engines until 11:00pm at night.
I still remember the first spring we lived in Winder. I heard the races from inside my house. I stepped outside onto the front porch and was so astounded by the volume that I called 911. The 911 operator yelled over to someone named Crystal and asked if the races had started up yet. She thought it was too early in the spring but no, Crystal confirmed, they start in March.
My investigation of the races the following week confirmed my fears. I heard phrases like, "Darlene, I think they're taking your husband to jail. Yep, they got him." I knew I had moved to Mulletville, USA.
Later, when the kids were playing on the playground between events, I saw the Mulletman playing with his daughter. Then I realized he was gamboling with several of the kids, carrying a zip line back and forth so the kids could ride. I couldn't help but think that under that coiffure was a person who loved his kids. He had taken the time to participate in her school event. Was this man anything like me? Could I larn anything from this gent?
In the post-apocalyptic red dawn, I'll probably be at his doorstep begging him to take me hunting for food for my family. In the mean time, it should be a crime to wear a camo t-shirt, denim painters' shorts, flip-flops with a mullet in public.
I say leave 'em in the 80's and don't look back.