Insurance-speak

Last week we had a little mishap with the car. Unfortunately, it was an incredibly expensive little mishap, one that caused us to call the insurance company to see if we were covered.

After being on the phone for over an hour and then filling out countless insurance forms, I’ve come to the brilliant conclusion once again that things were a lot simpler and a lot cheaper back-in-the-day when we were kids – especially all this business about insurance.

In Mrs. Crabtree’s fifth grade class at Mount Olive Elementary school, we also paid for insurance. The insurance we had wasn’t on cars, it was on us, and the premiums weren’t paid in dollars – they were paid in sticky bun cinnamon rolls.

All of us kids from Flamingo Street sat at the same table during lunch: Goofy Steve, Neighbor Thomas, Booger, Art, The New Kid, and Twin Brother Mark. Down at the end of the table sat Bubba Hanks. Bubba sat there ‘cause he needed the room for his two trays of food.

We ate together, not just to plan how we would win the upcoming after-lunch dodge ball game against Team Gloucester (which, by the way, we always lost), but also for protection.

If one of us gave Bubba an extra sticky bun cinnamon roll during lunch, he’d protect us for the rest of the day from the bullies who sat just two tables over. Now Bubba said we didn’t have to ‘cause he really liked to pound on bullies, but we always gave him one anyway.

Guess you’d call it bully insurance, and I needed it more than most.

Down The Street Bully Brad was the resident bully at Mount Olive and my arch nemesis. He’d try to beat me up at least once a week, but right before we got out for Labor Day, things would be different. Booger and me were gonna give him an Atomic Wedgie!

The plan was to sneak up behind Brad when he was talking with his bully friends during recess and give him an Atomic Wedgie.

For those of you who aren’t well versed in wedgies, an atomic wedgie is achieved by pulling underpants up over the shoulders. After which, I of course would run for my life. They didn’t call me Flash in the fifth grade because I was slow.

What would happen if Bully Brad caught me? That’s when the insurance Bubba Hanks came in.

Bubba weighed over 200 pounds and was only in the fifth grade. In the second grade he was out sick from school for three months due to a bad kidney infection and had to repeat it the next year. Even though he was a year and a half older than me, he and I had been in the same grade since.

Some say the kidney infection accounted for his enormous size. He had to stay in bed for months and do nothing. I guess he did something: He ate. But if you ask me, Bubba was so big ‘cause he really liked those sticky bun cinnamon rolls he got at lunch.

That afternoon before the dodge ball game, Booger and I snuck up behind Bully Brad during recess and reached for his underpants. Unfortunately for us, it was at that very moment he turned around and sneered.

That was the first time I realized, I didn’t have to run faster than Bully Brad. All I had to do was run faster than Booger.

So what about our car and the insurance coverage? Well, after a dozen long conversations with the insurance company, and not one but two visits from an adjuster, they came to this final conclusion, spoken of course in insurance speak:

“The insured part was indeed insured, but we are sorry to inform you that it flew off and hit an uninsured part. Now the part that was once insured is no longer insured. Claim is denied.”

The bottom line, we had to pay a pant-load of money to get the car fixed. I think the people at the insurance company need an Atomic Wedgie. Just as soon as I find Booger, we’re gonna sneak on down there.