Blown Away

Sometimes I think my wife and I have nothing in common. But we are the epitome of “opposites attract.” That’s probably what makes our marriage work. That being said, it’s never boring in the Nagasawa household.

The other weekend we were invited to a rather ritzy affair. At minimum, that means a coat and tie for me and a considerable chunk of time for my wife to get ready. Not that she needs it. She is an incredibly attractive woman. I know this because when people meet us as a couple I get the “What are you doing with him?” look.

She takes great care in how she looks and I have zero problem with that, since ultimately I am the beneficiary. But her “going out” makeup and hairstyle require painstaking preservation and sacrifice, at least on my part.

Let me explain. OK, we had gotten ready but had decided to take my wife’s car, since we had to pick up our daughter after the event. Although my wife’s car is a 2003 model, it is still in pretty good shape. The one problem is the air-conditioning fan does not work if you do not follow an exact sequence of shutdown when you turn off the car. As usual, we’re running a little behind, so we jump in the car and are on our way. I immediately realize the sequence was not followed the last time the car was driven. In other words, the air conditioner wasn’t working.

Since I was in a coat and tie, I immediately started to heat up. Before I could even reach for the window switch, my wife turned to me and said, “Don’t even think about it!” That’s because opening a window would mean wind-blown hair. I tried to endure the heat as long as I could and I begged her to let me just crack open the window.

She said OK, and when I opened my window it was like I just depressurized an airplane at 10,000 feet. The wind went swirling around the interior and her hair flew up like she was jolted with a zillion volts. I knew I was a dead man, but sat there and tried to keep my composure. She turned to me with her now Albert Einstein hairdo and said, “Are you cool enough now?”

rnagasawa@midweek.com