The Wally

Every so often I ache for certain people. Today, that person was my little brother, Austin Wallace (Wally). If any of you know him, you know he is probably one of the funniest people on the planet. He is one of the few people who can make me laugh so hard I cry. And he doesn't even really try. 

But frankly, he is a total spaz. Case in point: Christmas 2006. 

So I had just arrived from a REALLY long drive home from school to spend the holiday with my family in Arizona. What would have normally taken 9 or so hours took over 12 because of snow storms and the fact that my windshield wipers were broken. I'll just say that the combination of snow falling violently and broken windshield wipers isn't going to keep your blood pressure on the low side. Luckily, we make it unscathed. Completely exhausted after the car ride from Hell and a week of sleep-deprivation and cramming, I arrived.  But wanting to finish my Christmas shopping, I set out with my 17 year-old (at the time) brother Wally to go battle the crazy hordes of people at the mall. We had been shopping for our sister in a store and were leaving with the intention of heading straight to another that we had before designated, but a huge crowd separated us on our way. When I arrived at the store, he was no where to be found. 

Let me first say a few words about this kid. He is pretty much nuts. The way he acts most of the time probably is best described as a caffeinated bee. I don't think he's ever spent a straight five minute without talking (if you don't count sleeping). He's unique and I love him unspeakably, but from time to time, the kid makes you want to run around screaming like someone lit your clothes on fire. This was one of those times.

With my nerves completely shot from a month of nearly no sleep and insane stress coupled with a 12-hour drive through a snow storm (with completely broken windsheild wipers), I nearly flipped out. I paced the mall three time doing all I could not lash out with a string of obscenities at the masses. I would have left him, but I didn't have a purse and so I had given my car keys to the moron for "safe" keeping. A good 40 minutes had passed and I was unsure if I would ever see him again--if I'd ever get the chance to kill him for putting me through this hell. Finally, I decided to see if they could page him. I stood in line for 15 minutes before they told me that they "don't page at the Superstition Springs Mall." I think I was completely mental and at the end of my rope because without skipping a beat, I said nearly in tears and with great emotion, "But it's my brother and he's mentally handicapped."

The man flipped out and began to reassure me that the mall security and police on hand were very capable and would find my special little brother. They were immediately alerted and I gave a detailed description of what he was wearing. I felt bad as I imagined security approaching my brother and treating him like he was mentally handicapped. This lasted about 10 second before my anger resurfaced and I thought "SERVES HIM RIGHT." I hope they make him hold someone's hand.

He finally sauntered past me as I was speaking to an officer. I ran to him, and bless his heart, he acted the part so well and I didn't even have to explain a thing to the police. He just stared at me dumbly, mouth gapped open as I laid it on him for wandering off. I ordered him not to move and ran back to the officer and told him I'd found him. My brother was so confused and freaked out at my transparent maniacal mood and just stood there blankly with his mouth still gapped open. The officer and mall manager didn't think a thing. As I looked back over at him, I nearly wet myself because the kid could have been best friends with Corky. I thanked them then ran back to my brother, letting him have it the whole way to the parking lot. 

I told my brother in the car on the way home what I'd done. The anger left me and I was laughing uncontrollably. He was really hurt and pouted for the rest of the evening. He became especially huffy when I recounted, with tears of laughter in my eyes, the story to my parents. My parents were soon rolling on the ground and Austin stormed off to his room and slammed the door.

At my father's request, I repeated the story at each of the Christmas parties we attended. The day after it happened, he (along with EVERYONE else) was able to laugh at himself. 

This is why he is so great. When he started dating his girlfriend, I started to tell her the story and she butted in and said that he had already told her that one. 

I mean, who does that? I think I would try and hide a story in which despite my acting as I always had, a large number of people were convinced I was mentally handicapped.  But that's what makes the kid so wonderful. Because no matter how much anyone laughs at him, in the end he'll always laugh harder .