Getting the goods on teen drama
No one enjoys gossip more than a female, unless it's a female journalist, which I just happen to be. I never imagined, though, that the best gossip/information I'd ever score would be while delivering my kids and their friends to the mall/downtown/Mark's house.
During the past few years, I've routinely ferried herds of skinny, long-haired adolescents around Toronto. After all, it seemed silly for their parents with the big salaries to be wasting their time in traffic when I made so little as a freelance writer. So busy have I become with my second job, I've replaced "Hello" with "Dispatch," followed by "I'll have a car there right away."
As an undercover reporter/cabbie, my routine is simple: I camouflage myself by slumping forward, flipping on an oldies station, establishing my oldness and likely deafness, then I get my directions and we're off.
Great gossip, with no one to tell
One Friday night, for instance, I stumble upon a prime piece of gossip as one teen in the vehicle announces he's just lost his virginity—in a graveyard, no less. He regales his guffawing buddies with the elaborate lie he's fed his parents. Great gossip, but who to tell? And, actually, who would care? My friends all lost their virginity years ago. If I tell his parents, he'll be grounded.
Or take this jewel from a Thursday night drive with a vanload of kids, hair dripping from swimming in a friend's pool.
Them: "We'll say we went to G.I. Joe at nine o'clock."
Me: "Your hair's wet. They'll know you're lying."
Them: "We'll say we went through a sprinkler."
Me: "Parents hate when you lie. Just tell them the truth. There's nothing wrong with swimming."
Them (ignoring me totally): "Yeah, the sprinklers in the park."
I totter on the high wire between fascination and horror when I hear their stories. How about this: "I finally did it, but don't worry—he's just a sex buddy," an attractive girl confides to my daughter as I veer over lawns and narrowly avoid parked cars. Or, "I'm giving up drinking. It's just too hard on me." Ah, the wisdom of a 16-year-old with an affection for strawberry coolers.
