After 2 consecutive Gap quarters, I am getting a little rusty in this dropoff business. My mojo needs some spark plugs as once again, am like a deer in headlights. Perhaps, my pomegranate 5hr energy can revive me from this coma of a long hiatus from the hallowed hood of Mustang Village. Thus this never-ending drama of “WTF can go wrong during this trip”, is the main anthem of this episode. This trip was planned a month ago. Hotel secured in Santa Maria (check). Car rental secured (check). All system was a go. The Mrs took some time off from her work. Multiple Costco/Target/Trader Joe’s runs done (check). I assured the kid and Mrs that all is well and we are ready for liftoff on April Fools’ day. I was smiling oh so confident. I had this bravado, this umph to my step that “ I got this.” I was ready to celebrate and chest bump about how good it is this time and how smooth things are compared to the last disasters.

Yet, on the Thursday before liftoff, for some reason I felt somewhat uneasy like a nervous bride before the wedding. Some supreme power made me dial University Housing to make sure we’re all clear and kosher to proceed. The answer I received was…..well. Lets just say that I was shell-shocked like the little Mobo in Kabul, Afghanistan during the Russian Bombing hiding under the bed. University housing basically told me that our kid does not have housing because they did not receive a brand new housing application once again after gap quarters for the current school year. Basically, this refugee dad (me Mobo) applied for the 2023-2024 housing and didnt realize that even though we have the 2022-2023 application on file, it was my responsibility to complete a brand new application. Oh helllllll nauuuuuu (Steve Harvey moment). What the f**k did I do??? How the hell do I explain this to the Mrs??? Sleeping on the couch in the backyard in the freezing Sacramento weather going without food or water may be an option. How can I disclose this calamity to the Mrs????Honey, baby, love of my life, Raison d’être , (reason for my being)?
¿me quieres? (do u love me??)

I decided to make a few more phone calls to some contacts at Cal Poly before walking the gallows. Most of the departments were closed because it was half day and they were closed on Friday. Things were looking incredible bleak. I had no choice but to bit on my poison pill and get my grenade ready for myself as I spilt the beans to the Mrs with my shaking knees. After this confession, I dont remember much. All I recall is that when I was under chemo and radiation back in 2012, life (Hayat (Turkish), had this new aroma of hope, lavenders, and Chipotles Cilantro lime rice.

After a 93-minute verbal reprimand, I got a call from (805) area code. I prayed to the Almighty that let this be the lifeline salvation that you get in life. First was to defeat cancer and this call maybe…. Just maybe???? I picked up the phone and on the other line was a new friend that I made a few months ago. A director of XYZ department. She told me that everything is now fixed and if we log in to the housing portal, we will see that he has a dorm now and will not go homeless. I didn’t even thank her. I hung up the phone. I dropped to my knees and wept like a child. I told the Mrs the news and she was relieved to say the least. I have never been happier than the news that I was in remission.

Finally, I asked the Mrs permission to evacuate to the sauna to relieve myself as I have been holding bad for 97 harrowing minutes.

This my friends, my comrades, my CoyoTiTos, was another episode of the refugee dad dropping college kids WTF else can go wrong??? I have to go now. This long Godfather playlist in my ear has come to a crescendo.