I am amused every time it happens. I am married and one of us is an important executive who frequently travels to seminars/conferences at swank resorts. Spouse scurries around trying to get the traveler all prepared. “Honey, here’s this, here’s that. Honey, did you remember this? Sweetie, did you remember that? Have this? Be careful. Call me.”
So, while my wife is out of town, I get together with three hot women. I am old and arthritic and spinning class is way too early in the morning. They look at me like I am a silver-headed unicorn, way past his prime. Especially when the music blares. Little do they know I actually listen to Wiz Khalifa, B.O.B. & Ne-Yo. Not to mention I have been biking 20+ daily for the last 6 months. I just don’t enjoy cycling in the cold and the wind, ducking heavily-medicated senior citizens in SUVs. Although those old folks add an element of excitement.
Excuse me, my honeys… but see any other old guys here this morning?
Doesn’t help that I am hung over. My fault. Always is. I watched every minute, every moment, of the World Series of Poker Final Table. Over two nights plus on ESPN. On the second day – wife gone – I invented my latest drinking game. To wit…whenever the short stack, one Jacob Balsinger, wins a hand, you take a sip of your drink. Well, damn. Three-handed, the trio went 11 effin’ hours. OMG! Eleven hours. Jake is my new hero, replacing Lance Armstrong. Like Lance & I, Mr. Balsinger is a cyclist. At least he used to be. (WEAR YOUR HELMET. Sure, helmets are not cool, but neither are concussions nor paralysis nor death.) Then he got hit by a truck…crash…skull fracture, etc…. hospital…no memory of the crash…lost sense of smell & taste. The kid actually used the insurance money to enter the $10,000 Main Event. Supposedly just last year, he was playing 5 cent-10 cent limit. He finished third at the WSOP. He played great, lost with class and pocketed $3,799,073.00. He calls that “retirement money.” Well, played, sir.
I have a new motto. Il bocca al lupo. Into the wolf’s mouth. It’s an Italian phrase, oft used by bike racers. Kinda like actors & ‘break a leg.’ This from Bill Strickland: “…whenever a ride is vicious but I am having good luck with it, I think about what staying alive inside the mouth of a wolf must take, to somehow manage to survice the teeth, the snapping, the ripping, the drooling, the gnashing and, afterward, to not lose fear when you next hear a howling.”
Il bocca al lupo, everybody. God bless.