My dad and I would spend every other Saturday together either watching the latest movie in the movie theaters or eating at restaurants. This was never a common routine when I was a little for the fact that my dad would not have a set schedule time from his long hours from work. He would arrive, sit in his recliner, and take off his boots that he had on for fourteen hours working as a custodian at a horse polo club picking up chairs, making repairs and inspections. The boots reminded me of the time when I was younger when I had the duty of having to take off my father's boots and socks every time he would come home from his construction job, building mansions on the east coast of West Palm Beach Florida. The boots would be covered in black dried mud with a mixer of cement covered on his long thick cream colored laces and near his sides of his boots. I would un-tie his laces; unclip the lace from the clamps until the boot was loose enough for me to grab the back and front side and tug it off. I would hold my breath just so I would not smell the stench of rotten cottage cheese coming from his long gray thick cotton sock that would leave markings of the sock design on his skin. The worse part was having to pull the socks off and foot powder with a mix salty sand fall all over my cloths while taking them off. .
My dad heads into the shower and then puts on his casual outfit of long dark blue jeans, a cotton red polo pocket t-shirt with black tennis shoes with white laces. I shut the front door and both of us walk towards the blue 2001 Dodge Edge SUV to go grab a quick bite to eat at the fast food restaurant that I enjoy eating at called Wendy's. We would pull up to the drive-thru and wait until a person with a microphone head site talk through a black speaker box and ask "Welcome to Wendy's, may I take your order?", as my dad reaches into his pocket to pull out his Aztec design leather wallet that he had gotten from his visit to Mexico.