In relationships, there are many ups and downs. Each member of the relationship is forced to look past themselves and reach a place of understanding with the other.
For my wife and me, that place of understanding is The A-Team.
The A-Team was a show in the mid-eighties. In this program, a group of escaped criminals become vigilantes, helping people who need their help to right the wrongs that had been committed. This was done with cartoonish violence, car crashes that nearly always flipped a vehicle several times before the driver would hop out unharmed, and a large amount of cigar smoking. Suffice it to say, it is the finest program ever created.
Having watched reruns of this show as a child, I was privy to the genius that was Hannibal Smith, B.A. Baracus, and the rest of the gang. Unfortunately, I had gone years without watching B.A. be drugged before a helicopter ride or Templeton “Faceman” Peck charming his way into a single institution. Then, today, Netflix gave me a great surprise. There, on the list of shows to be watched instantly, sat this source of quality entertainment.
I was excited to share this with my wife. Sadly, she had grown up ignorant of these vigilantes and their wild plans that always seem to come together. The illumination that she had been without her entire life would soon be shown to her. Her life would finally be complete.
I hit play, eagerly awaiting the intro.
Ten years ago, a crack commando unit was sent to prison by a military court for a crime they didn’t commit…
“Wait… what was the crime?” she asked.
“What?” I said, distracted by the epic theme song in the background.
“What was the crime?”
I sat there. I didn’t know what the crime was. It wasn’t really relevant. “I don’t know.”
“Oh,” she said, getting the look that screams “This is dumb, but I’ll humor you for a minute.”
…If you have a problem, if no one else can help, and if you can find them, maybe you can hire…
Yet again, the intro was interrupted.
“How do you find them if they live on the run?”
I was beginning to think she did not understand this show. “Well, you have to figure it out.”
Now I was certain she didn’t get it. “You ask around until you figure it out.”
That look returned to her face as the intro ended and the show began. We silently sat there, each of us hoping for an increased enjoyment when the real adventures began.
That silence lasted a full two minutes until the A-Team appeared on-screen.
“Why does Mr. T where so many earrings?”
I didn’t understand. There was no questioning the A-Team. If you started to question the show, you would never stop. Why could none of the bad guys actually aim before they shoot? How could a car roll three times and, yet, no one would even walk with a limp when they got out? If H.M. Murdock was consistently broken out of the same mental institution, why did they not improve security? More importantly, why would a team of vigilantes pick a stupid van for their vehicle of choice?
For her, though, there was no suspending reality. She would not ever be able to enjoy this show.
After thinking about it, I understood her point of view. I could never believe that Katherine Heigl would really be a maid of honor 27 times (she isn’t that pleasant) or that Keanu Reeves would really send magical, time-traveling letters to Sandra Bullock (mail boxes aren’t time portals and Sandra Bullock and Keanu Reeves would not really be a good couple).
I think we reached an understanding as we watched this TV classic. I would never understand her love of Felicity or Titanic and, in return, she would never understand shows revolving around ex-Vietnam veterans that smoke a lot of cigars and get in a lot of kerfuffles. It seemed like a happy medium.
I’m sure she will be talked into watching another episode of the A-Team in the future. There are a lot of classics to work our way through.
We’ll skip the episode with Boy George, though. I don’t even want to attempt to explain how he became friends with the A-Team.