Lauren Is Armed with Gyatt as a Weapon

We spent Saturday at Lock Haven University to watch Lindsay and her teammates compete in the National Collegiate Women’s Wrestling Region 1 Championships. Wrestling tournaments are somewhat like amusement parks: hours of walking around or sitting and staring punctuated by bursts of terror and occasional thrills. Lindsay wound up placing seventh and on the podium—a great conclusion to her freshman year of wrestling. The top two placers were a cut above the rest, but three through eight could be reshuffled on any given day (in the tournament, Lindsay beat the girl who finished sixth but lost to the girl she beat in the Pennsylvania tournament final two weeks ago). She was on the mat for maybe twenty-five total minutes, but we were at the tournament from nine am till nine pm.

By the time the tournament ended, most of the local restaurants had stopped serving food, so we wound up in a local dive that was broken into two halves. One half was a bar, and it had no seating left for all of us (we had the Laws, the family of Lindsay’s boyfriend Carson, and one of Lindsay’s friends from the team), so they sent us over to the other side, which appeared to be a converted convenience store. Florescent light washed over it; one wall was refrigerators full of beer and wine with one small section reserved for sodas; three booths sat against the opposite wall, and the area perpendicular to that was the kitchen. We settled into the booths and ordered bundles of chicken wings, burgers, and fries.

“I’m gonna eat so many wings,” Lindsay said.

“That will make you even more cheeked up,” Lauren said.

Lindsay rolled her eyes, and her friend Stella looked from Lindsay to Lauren. I said, “Lindsay sent a photo of Dobby the other day. Lindsay said he was cheeked up. Lauren asked what it meant, and Lindsay said, ‘Big butt,’ and ever since, Lauren has been trolling Lindsay by using cheeked in every way possible.”

“Soooo annoying,” said Lindsay.

“Like, she sent Lindsay a text the other day that said something like, ‘Are you going to kick some big-cheeked regional butts this weekend?'” I said.

Stella and Carson laughed.

“Lindsay threatened to block her if she kept saying stuff like that,” I said.

“Not true,” Lindsay said. “I threatened to block her if she didn’t send me pictures of Dobby.”

Meanwhile, as we visited, a dude came in from outside. He was in a heavy orange parka and wore a dirty red beard; his skin was pasty white, and he was thin and bony. He walked to one of the coolers, grabbed a six pack of White Claw, stepped over to the counter and placed an order, then settled into the booth behind our party. He ripped open the box and started in on a White Claw.

One of the workers came out with the first round of food and set plates in front of Carson, his brother Griffin, and their mother. “Lindsay’s older brother Grant is starting to sound like an old man,” I said to Stella and Carson.

“Facts,” said Lindsay. “It’s like he’s forty.”

“The other day, he sent me a text raging about Gen Alpha saying they talked weird, that teachers hated them, they did nothing but play on their phones, that sort of thing.”

“How do they talk weird?” said Stella.

“Well, like cheeked up,” I said.

“That’s not Gen Alpha,” said Lindsay.

“No, we all say that in wrestling.”

“What was the other word?” Lauren said. “Even Grant was like, ‘wtf is that?'”

“Gyatt,” said Graham.

“What?” Lauren said.

“We use that all the time,” said Lindsay.

“Yeah,” said Stella. “That’s in the wrestling room all the time. That and like dumper and cheeked up.“

“Azariah is always saying it,” said Lindsay. “Someone will walk out on the mat, and she’ll look down and say loudly, ‘Gyatt!'”

“What’s the word again?” Lauren said.

From behind me, Mr. White Claw suddenly bellowed, “GYATT!” and started laughing. Both our tables laughed.

“What does it even mean?” Lauren said.

“DUMPER!” said Mr. White Claw. “Cheeked up! Same thing!”

“He’s not wrong,” said Lindsay.

“Y’all are hilarious,” said Mr. White Claw.

The server came out again. “Cheese steak with peppers and onions.”

“Here!” said White Claw. He grabbed his White Claws, his sandwich, and stepped out into the cold mumbling Gyatt and laughing.

Now, sitting here writing this, I note that one of the articles I looked up about gyatt has a section titled, “Can Parents Say ‘Gyat’?” And the immediate answer is “Sorry, but no,” because it will make you a cringe parent and drive your kids away from saying it. This means, of course, that Lauren is locked and loaded, ready to wield that gyatt like a damn weapon. Watch out, kids. It’s coming out when you least want it to.

If you enjoy this, consider signing up to receive my free daily post. I recount the goings-on of the Laws in light-hearted fashion. It might be the one thing you read daily that makes you smile and think, “At least my life isn’t THAT.”