Coffee Time - A Tale of Two Dunkin Donuts

http://boston.blogger.cbslocal.com/most-valuable-blogger/vote/misc/

It is amazing how one minute something strikes you as just the funniest thing in the world then the next, the same thing just makes you crazy. Take for example a simple cup of coffee. It’s just coffee right, what’s simpler? I suppose the only easier thing to get would be a glass of water. But coffee does take some assembly and it’s not always that easy.

A couple of months ago I pulled into the ol' double D (Dunkin Donuts for the lay people) in Foxboro for coffee on my way to work. I was at the drive through. When it's my turn to order I rolled down the window and asked for a medium decaf with cream and one sugar. The voice at the other end repeats the order and says "One medium hot coffee, regular, will there be anything else?" To which I replied “No, I ordered a medium decaf with cream and one sugar." The person on the other end repeated the order and said "OK, that’s one medium hot coffee and one medium decaf......." To which I had to stop them mid sentence and tell them they had the order wrong. I said I only wanted one coffee. I repeated my order again, a medium decaf with cream and one sugar. The voice on the other end said "OK, sorry. That's one medium hot decaf with milk and sugar." I then have to interrupt them again and say "NO, THAT's CREAM and one sugar". The person on the other end then asks, "So how many coffees do you want?" I said "one, I only want one coffee with cream and one sugar.” To that, the person on the other end taking to order says. "OK, so that's one medium hot coffee with cream and one sugar". To which I have to say "NOOOOOOOO, THAT"S DECAF !!!!!". The voice from the speaker then says," OK, Thank you drive up". I'm left loudly repeating my order to an abandoned drive-up menu board "THAT"S ONE MEDIUM HOT DECAF WITH CREAM AND ONE SUGARRRRRRRR.” Dooooooooh.

So I pulled up to the window to get my coffee. The woman leans out and hands me a coffee and says that'll be $1.90. Before I grabbed the coffee I asked, "That's decaf right?" The woman responded "Yes". I looked at her and asked “Are you sure, the cup in not marked, usually they write DC1S on the side of the cup.” The woman at the drive up window turns to the woman making the coffee and asks if my coffee is a decaf. The woman making the coffee looks at her, then at me and says "yes, decaf, milk and no sugar". I looked at the coffee lady and responded "No, that's cream and one sugar." I held up one finger (Index, let's not go there) and repeated ONE SUGAR. I'm not yelling or anything, but I am speaking distinctly. The woman at the window starts to recoil back into the shop saying "Let me make you another one." I said "NO, please just give me that one and a couple of sugar packets." The women looked at me and said "No, no, no, let me make you another one." I'm like, "You do HAVE sugar packets, right?" She said yes. I said "Just let me have the coffee and a couple of packets of sugar. It'll be alright."

I got my coffee and my sugar packets and drove off. Before I left the parking lot I pulled over to add my sugar. Before I did, I tasted it just to make sure. Well, there must have been 10 sugars in this cup of coffee. OK, maybe that is an exaggeration. But at the window, the woman making the coffee said there was no sugar. This cup had at least two.

I burst out laughing. I mean come on, you have to see the humor in this. It's a freak'n cup of coffee. How hard is it to make a cup of coffee? I didn't add any more sugar. I kept the cup they had given me. I drove off in stitches. I gotta tell ya, I enjoyed every drop of that coffee. Every sip made me laugh.

About 30 minutes later in the office I realized that there was more wrong with this cup of coffee than the sugar. I was buzzing off the walls. I couldn’t sit still and was also quite the little chatter box. After the fourth person asked what was wrong with me, it hit me. That was no decaf coffee. I don’t drink regular coffee. I haven’t really had caffeine in years. Heck, a bowl of coffee ice cream in the afternoon keeps me awake all night. Now I’ve had a full octane coffee. I was having world class caffeine buzz.

I made myself a pact. I'm going to this double D every morning until they get my coffee right. When they finally do, I'm going to start ordering food. I’m going to see what TWO items does to them. I can picture it, I'll order a bagel with cream cheese and end up with a double glazed chocolate egg and cheese muffin! Oh, just the thought of it makes me howl.

Unfortunately, sometimes, no matter how hard you try, eventually the humor wears off. I’m starting not to see the joke in all this ‘I can’t get a cup of coffee’ thing.

On the weekends I typically do a DD run for whoever is in the house. I head up to the DD in Franklin over by the country club. I usually get 3 or 4 coffees and something to eat for. Me, I take the egg and cheese sandwich on a sesame bagel. The rest of them just get some sort of bagel and cream cheese of a muffin or something. I really don’t pay that much attention to them. I’m here to tell you, every weekend the Franklin Dunkin Donuts messes something up. Oh, and it’s not funny like the Albanian ladies over there in Foxboro. Oh no no no, it’s not funny at all.

The other day I swung by the Franklin DD. I ordered three coffees and no food. The order was: 1 medium hot coffee with cream and sugar, 1 medium hot coffee with cream and no sugar and one hot decaf with cream and no sugar. (See, I’m learning, I’ll add my own sugar). Pretty simple, right? I mean, it’s three freak’n cups of coffee from a place that’s supposed to crank out hundreds of cups of coffee a day. Really, there’s nothing special here, at least that I can tell. I mean, we’re not ordering a double half caf cappuccino with soy milk and raw sugar in a sippy cup or a triple French dip espresso over ice with sprinkles and a cherry or anything. It’s just three cups of coffee and one of those cups just happens to be decaf. They handed me a tray with three coffees in it. I paid and went home.

When I got home, I handed Cait her coffee. I knew it was hers’ because it said Reg, C + S on the side. I handed Lisa her coffee. I recognized it was hers’ because it said, Reg C on the side. Then I looked at the last cup. It read Reg C + XS on the side. Immediately my blood started to boil. I took a sip to be sure. Yup, lots of sugar. Lots and lots of sugar. As a matter of fact, I think it was just coffee flavored sugar. I jumped back in the truck and raced back up to the ol’ DD. When I got there, I headed inside, I was gonna talk to somebody and they were not going to like it.

I got a new coffee and asked to speak to the Manager. Some 20 nothing kid comes over and asks what he could do for me. GREAT, a freak’n “I don’t care about anything or anyone because I’m 20” year old puke is going to try fix things.

So I launched in. It went like this:

Me: I come here every weekend for coffee and every weekend you guys manage to screw it up.

Puke: I’m sorry; let me get you another one.

Me: I already got a new cup (Word to the wise, get your food and drink BEFORE you argue with the manager) I have to make a second trip up here just because you can’t make a simple cup of coffee?

Puke: I’m sorry sir, but we are very busy

Me: You’re making coffee for Christ sake. You not doing anything too complicated. You are too busy to pour coffee from a pot that right next to you and get it right?

Puke: What was the problem sir?

Me: I ordered a medium decaf with cream and no sugar ...........

And before I could finish the sentence he looked at me and said.

Puke: Excuse me sir, next time you order your coffee just ask for cream only

Me: What???

Puke: Next time, just ask for a decaf with cream only. That’s the way you are supposed to order it. Say cream only. It will reduce the confusion for the staff.

Me: Are you seriously telling me that saying “no sugar” confuses the staff?

Puke: Yes sir, that’s the way we do it here.

Me: You’re kidding me, right?

Puke: No sir, just ask for cream only.

Me: So you are saying when I order a medium decaf with cream and no sugar, saying “no sugar” confuses the staff to the point that they give me a regular coffee and extra sugar?

Puke: Sir, I’m just telling you the way to order your coffee in the future so there is less confusion, just ask for cream only.

Me: And you’re serious?

Puke: Yes sir

Me: You people are that simple? Really? Saying “no sugar” causes your staff to (expletive deleted) both the type of coffee and the amount of sugar in it? Seriously? You’re joking? It’s a cup of coffee. It’s not rocket surgery. You guys are pouring coffee all day. How hard can that be? Are you seriously trying to tell me that pouring coffee is too difficult a task for you if I say “no sugar”?

Puke: I don’t know what to tell you, we are very busy, especially in the morning.

Me: Let me get this straight, I ordered two regular coffees and a decaf. When I picked up my order at the window, I asked if I had a decaf. The person who gave it to me, that guy over there, said there was a decaf in the tray. In reality, I had three regular coffees, even though I was just told there was a decaf in the tray. You are saying that that guy right over there poured the wrong coffee, then told me it was the right coffee because I said “no sugar” instead of “cream only”. Is that what you are saying?

Puke: I don’t know what else to tell you sir. Next time just say cream only.

Me: I guess you guys are that stupid. I wouldn’t have thought pouring coffee was that difficult. Something is wrong with my order every weekend. Lucky for me, I work right next to the Dunkin Donuts headquarters building up there in Canton. I will be stopping by on my way to work first thing Monday morning and lodging a complaint about this store and you personally.

Puke: I don’t know what you want me to say. We are a very busy store.

Me: Don’t say anything else, you’re not helping. You’ve said enough. “I’m sorry, here have a free donut” would have sufficed when I walked in. But you are standing there looking me in the face trying to explain away the umpteenth screw up of my very simple coffee order with the excuse that “no sugar” is too complicated a phrase for your staff to understand. Every weekend you guys mess up something in the order and the excuse you expect me to accept is that the problem is my fault because I said “no sugar” instead of “cream only” . Unbelievable. I am amazed at the lame excuse. Customer service is a lost art. I actually do work next to the headquarters. I will be stopping in to speak to someone about this.

With that I headed back home. There was nothing else to say and no satisfaction to be won here. This kid did not care at all.

I don’t know why I get such a kick out of the Foxboro store. Maybe it truly is the Albanian ladies. I don’t know if they are Albanian or not, I don’t recognize the accent. But in my world, I’ll say they are Albanian. They look like they are having fun. The smiles I get from them every morning make me smile too. What I do know is, after the go-gillianth wrong coffee, I don’t find anything funny about the Franklin DD.

As a final note, I really do work next to the DD Headquarters in Canton. No, I did not go in and complain. Too much effort. I had calmed down by Monday and they are just a bunch of kids anyway. Going and complaining will cause me more trouble than it does them.  And besides, Lisa and Cait still go there. You know what they say, never argue the bill with the Dentist BEFORE he cleans your teeth. Same thing. I’m not looking for a sneezer, if you know what I mean

HI There

http://boston.blogger.cbslocal.com/most-valuable-blogger/vote/misc/

Hey,

Thanks for stopping by my BLOG. This thing was started as a way to jog my memory after a couple of pretty interesting years. I wanted to make sure I didn't forget anything I might need in the future. I thought I'd start writing some stuff down before I forgot something REALLY important. Two years of documenting and I haven't uncovered one import thing yet. If you want to get the true sense of what the Oldiesman is all about, read the BLOG from back to front. Head to the oldest posts, then read your way forward. Start with the Things I won't do Three Times". If you make it through them, have fun poking around.

My personnel favorites are:

Things I won't do three times (6 little stories) (2/1/10)
That's my boy (2/1/10)
Alex is as Alice does (2/1/10)

(I took the blog down then had to put it back up due to popular demand. I put it back on 2/1/10. Sorry, this date has the most stories)

Snow Tubing (2/10/10)
The Anniversary Story (5/25/10)
The Elevator Story (6/4/10)
What was once and embarrassment is now a Fantasy (6/30/10)
Grape Ape (7/15/10)

Oh heck it would be easier to list the ones that aren't my favorites.

Oh, and before I sign off I'd just like to say one thing. VOTE FOR THE OLDIESMAN!!! (and all your wildest dreams will come true.)

Be sure to comment, I like to read too.

Thanks, have fun reading.

Oldiesman999 (AKA Slowjoe)

Sasquatch Golfs

I just got home from the Walsh Family Reunion and Golf Tournament. Now, I’m not a Walsh, I’m just a guest. Let me start off by acknowledging the Walsh’s and thanking them for continually inviting me back to the show, it always a great time. Seriously, thank you. It was a lot of fun.


This year the show traveled to Myrtle Beach. We played at Legends. The fourth in our foursome was an officer with the local Sheriff’s Department. How they chose to have Officer Man Mountain play with us I’ll never know. Maybe it was a pre-emptive measure. I mean after all, John E and Leo do have a bit of a reputation. No lie, this guy was and is a giant. When it got too hot out on the course, I and about a dozen others just stood in the shade of his shadow. This guy could palm a medicine ball. He rode in the cart with me. Our cart was like a motorcycle, it rode on two wheels; the two on his side of course. When this guy took a divot, the entire course trembled. It registered on the Richter Scale. The first time I heard his club hit the ground it sounded like the Mythbusters detonating a cement mixer. He knocked the round right off of the golf ball. On the 5th hole, I think he knocked one completely inside out. There are not many people I’m afraid to heckle, Officer Sasquatch is one. It was the most subdued round of golf I played in a long time. There was no, “Hey do you inhale or exhale on your back swing? I’m trying to figure out if you suck or blow” or “Let me give you some advice, take up tennis” in this round.

Man Mountain was a little, how should I say this? Scary, I guess that’s the best word for it, he was scary. Every time he spoke to one of us he started and ended the comment with “Boy”. Things like “Boy, how long you be’n a play’n this game? Shoot boy, last time a saw a hook like that it was in a fish's mouth. I tell you what,  I’m gonna straight’n you out and get you to hit the fairway by the end of this round boy. You wait and see, I’m gonna fix you up good boy.” He kept saying this kind of stuff to my friend Leo. No kidding.

So, after about 6 holes, Officer Sasquatch sprung into action. Leo teed the ball up. As he started to get ready to hit, Sasquatch seized his opportunity. He looked at us and started in “Shoot boy, what the hell are you a doin? Tee that ball up right. It aint that hard boy, here, let me straighten you out.” With that, he walked over to Leo. Leo’s standing there with his legs spread in his ready to swing stance and here comes Sasquatch. I couldn’t really see what happened, all I know is Officer Scary squatted down in front of Leo and started to say something about his balls. Something about Leo’s balls being too low. When you play golf, your balls need to be higher. I couldn’t make it all out; a lot of it was garbled. I was standing there in awe of what I was seeing. Officer OhmyGod was on his knees in front of Leo squirming around making all manner of garbled noises after just talking about Leo’s balls, and Leo was tense. Really, really tense. He wasn’t in his ready position any longer and he wasn’t moving a muscle. After a minute, Officer Sasquatch stood up, wiped off his brow and said “There you go boy, now hit that thing, hit that ball. Hit it hard.” So Leo got in his ready position and was about to swing. Office Man Mountain again sprung into action. As Leo addressed the ball, Sasquatch said “Shooooooooot Boooooooy, what the hell are you a doin? Relax, you’re too tense. Wiggle them hips first boy.” With that, he again walked up to Leo. He put his hands on Leo’s hips and started in. “Come on Boy, wiggle them hips, loosen up. You know how to do it, relax. Boy, look at the way you are holden that club. What are you try’n to choke a chicken? Soft hands. That’s it, nice and easy, hold the shaft, all nice and soft like. Get in the rhythm, come on nice and easy, move with me, relax, hold it soft then hit that thing.” All the while he’s swaying back and forth, with his arms around Leo’s hips. After what seemed like an uncomfortable eternity, Office Sasquatch released Leo. He walked to that back of the tee looked at Leo and said, “Come on now Peckerwood, hit that thing.” Leo took a mighty swing and WHACKED that ball. It was his worst drive of the day. The thing took off at about a 90 degree angle from the Tee box and headed deep into the weeds. Leo turned to leave the tee and you could see it. He was trembling, and I think there was a tear in his eye. Office Scaryman called him Peckerwood for the rest of the day.

Sasquatch has a very interesting manner of speaking too. At the time, I did not understand the vernacular and was afraid to ask. And the accent, well NOBODY understood the accent. I never really understood what he was saying. I was never quite sure if it was supposed to be an insult or a compliment. I eventually just started assuming it was all insult. Since I got home, I’ve been trying to decode what he was saying. This is what I’ve got so far.

• Yankee – Someone from “up north” that goes “down south”

• Damn Yankee – A guy from up north who goes down south and stays

(There was also something about a Yankee being like a quickie, but I’m not going to go there.)

• Y’all – Anyone and everyone but the person speaking

• Yonder – Anyplace but here, usually within eyesight and typically accompanied by a finger point or a head nod.

• Peckerwood – This one is definitely an insult. Supposedly it is the rough equivalent of “Cracker”.

• Cracker - Sorry, still don't have a clue. I'm pretty sure it's not a term of endearment though.

(There were a lot of woodpecker references. Too many to list. I’m lumping them all into the insult category)

• Rub'n is Rac'n - I think that meant he wanted me to pass the other golf cart. Either that or T-bone them.

• Tighter than a tick on a hound dog's ass - I think that means his ball "plugged" or he had no shot or something like that. Of course he WAS talking to Leo (Peckerwood) every time he said it.

• Plant’n taters – I think this mean your divots are too deep.

• Slick as a mater sammich – I’m sorry, I’m still working on this one. Clues? Anyone? A little help please.

Next year I’m bringing a notebook and a Red Neck Dictionary.

Thanks Uncle Mike, it was a great time. Thank you for inviting me into your home. Thanks for teaming us up with Man Mountain. He may be a little scary, but he is fun to golf with. It should be even more fun next year; I won’t be so scared of him. OK, so that’s a lie, he’s still going to scare the bejeezes out of me. Thank you Walsh Family for letting me participate in your annual Reunion and Golf Tournament. It is a lot of fun.

The WBFL

Alrightythen, let me say this about that. I’ve fielded a ton of questions on the WBFL this year. You know stuff like, what is it, what does it stand for, what it is all about, can anyone be a member? Stuff like that. I suppose the most frequent and important questions are: what the hell, and WHY? People were beginning to think we were some kind of secret society or something bent on taking over the world through domination and manipulation of the world’s legal, political and financial systems. Well that’s kinda true. I would like to be the Omnipotent Emperor of the Universe, Lord and Protector of all that Walks, Crawls, Swims or Flies. But the wife won’t let me. And the only thing secret about this group is, well, really the only secret is, what the heck is up with Excalibur? Anyway, I thought I’d take a few minutes and explain the WBFL and what has become known as the Great WBFL OPEN GOLF Championships.

The WBFL is a loose collection of guys mostly, that started life playing online, first person, shoot-em up video games. Mind you, it was not ALL guys, but it was mostly guys. The most frequent game(s) played was the Call of Duty series. All of this ball breaking, name calling, insulting banter you sometimes see going back and forth on Facebook started there. Now, when you play these games, groups of guys band together and form “Clans”. They give themselves really cool names like “Allied Government” or “The Sons of Death” and they put their clan name in front of the gamer tag so that people would know who they are and where they are from. And most clans would maintain ranks, just like the military. So I would be {AG}Slowjoe(PVT). Yeah baby, I’d have my clan, my name and my rank, in that order. I would be official, I would represent when I was out in the virtual world, fighting in a virtual war, virtually wiping out the virtual enemy, protecting the virtual world from a virtual invasion. I was a virtual stone cold killer. OK so maybe I was more of a luke warm target. Anyway, if you heard any of the banter at the golf outing or read any of the comments on FB you may realize that this group of guys really isn’t into all that military style structure. Hey, it’s a game for crimminay sake. Lighten up Francis. What’s with all this “Follow Orders” crapola. Needless to say, a bunch of us (actually, mostly Swede) were either kicked out of or straight up just left a couple of these clans.

Now, you need to realize that the majority of the guys that make up the WBFL are real life friends. Alright, maybe not FRIENDS as normal people would think of it. We either worked together, or grew up together or were related. We weren’t necessarily just a bunch of people spread around the world who didn’t really know each other. So when we got kicked out of every decent clan in the virtual world we loosely made up our own. It’s Leo’s fault really. Leo branded us the WBFL for no reason other than he liked the look of it. I used to run around with just random clan tags on. I’d just make up letters and stick them in from of my name. (OGR was my favorite, outside of the WBFL of course). We had no home but we had tags. We were COD nomads so to speak, traveling around the cyber world looking for trouble with no place to call our own.

People ask all the time what WBFL stands for. We stand for Truth Justice and the Virtual WAY!!! Nahhhhh, that’s not it. The WBFL has many meaning. Some of which I will list here. Others hopefully will not be added in the comments at the end of this story by some wise ass named Excalibur or Swede. (Was that hint subtle enough?) The name that was officially listed in the Forums is/was We Be Finishing Last. Kind of ambiguous don’t you think? It could mean that we suck, and lose a lot. Or it could be a last man standing kind of comment meaning we win a lot. Kinda adds a mysterious aura to the group don’t you think? People don’t know what to expect. Other names that have been used include:

We Be Fat and Lazy

Wide Bodies for Life

We Be Friends for Life

Won’t Be For long

Whiney Bunch of Freak’n Losers

You get the point. It’s just four letters that COULD mean something, but really don’t (Gentlemen, PLEASE do not add any of the non-G rated combinations to the comments.)

Soooo, after running around as a loose faction of homeless guys, Leo decided to start an official Clan. He went to ClanServers.com, rented some space and put up a server. The rest as they say, is virtual history. We now had a home. We could wage WAR!!! Leo put up a game server, he developed forums so we could talk to other clans to set up virtual battles and he put up a Ventrillo server so we could talk to each other while playing in the game. I learned a couple of things on Ventrillo. Not the least of which was, I was/am probably the oldest guy in Cyberspace playing these games. Holy crap. Our group of guys was just that, guys. There were some guys in their 20’s a bunch on their 30’s a couple of 40 somethings and me. The first day I dropped the headphones on to talk to folks on Ventrillo, I just couldn’t believe it. I lasted about 10 minutes then had to get off. I couldn’t BELIEVE all the high pitched squeaky voices. I found out that some of the guys I was playing the game with, like Dr Death and the Noob Killer were kids. When I say kids, I mean KIDS. You know, 14, 15 years old. That was the first day I felt old, really old. I’m running around cyber space with the little kiddies playing a kiddy games YIKES. Of course, this is also the genesis of the Old Guys Rule taunt. So anyway, the bulk of the WBFL played only on the WBFL server. We could be virtually guaranteed we would be playing with adults. I mean its one thing to spend an evening playing an online game with a peer. You know a deep voiced man with a job, a mortgage and a couple of kids. It’s quite another to have you butt handed to you all night and then hear a squeaky voice say “Sorry, I gotta go. Mom says it’s time for bed.”

Anyway, periodically we’d be playing this game and it would start to get a little boring. Someone would say “Hey, let’s play some poker?” 45 minutes later there’d be a group of us playing cards at someone’s house. Sometimes it would be “Hey, let’s go golfing.” This is how the WBFL Golf and Demolition Derby started. The first yea r it was just a a bunch of us getting together to do something other than COD. One day we ended up having two (2) foursomes. Somebody made a crack about it being a tournament. The next year it was “hey, we should ALL try to go out together and have a real tournament with awards.” It has just blossomed from there.

And speaking of the golf outing. I had a couple of people ask me about the crazy names everyone had. HELLLLLL-ooooooooo, it’s your gamer tag. If you didn’t have one, I gave one to you. So what do they mean, well let me explain the names to you.

Slowjoe – This would be me. If you ever see me rushing or running, it’s because I’m on fire or you are dreaming. I don’t rush. I’d rather walk and be an hour early than run to try to be on time.

SteamroledU – Dan Kelly. He was pretty good at the game. He just steam rolled everyone. And he taunted the heck out of you when he did it.

Please permit me a story. (My blog, you’re getting it whether you want it or not)

We had this ladder match to see who the best player in the WBFL was. It was a double elimination kind of thing. Last man standing was the best. I made it through the early rounds and I’m in the semi finals. I got matched up with Steam. The game we were playing was a first to 10 thing. You had to win twice. So we play the first round and Dan wins 10-9. I’m all excited. I took Dan deep (usually he’d beat me 10-0) Now we are switching sides and I’m better with the side I’m getting. Oh boy oh boy oh boy oh boy, I’m doing good. So while the game was loading I went running into the other room to get a drink. When I did, I passed Dan. I looked at him and stopped dead in my tracks. There he was sitting at the other computer. He was playing World of Warcraft. He had AIM up and was IMing a couple of friends. His head phones were on crooked. In one ear he was listening to Music, in the other the game. All the while he’s talking to somebody else on Ventrillo. I’m like “What are you doing, we’re in a match?” He said “Yeah I know, I’m playing.” I’m like “With all that other stuff going on?” He said “Yeah, I’m listening to the game. I wait for you to plant the bomb, then I toggle over to COD, kill you and defuse the bomb.” I’m like “How the hell can you do that?” He’s says “Well I don’t do it every time, if I’m in the middle of something on WoW, I just let you win.” “I said “YOU LET ME WIN!!!!” He goes, “Yeah, you do the same thing every time, so I know I’m going to win. If I’m in the middle of something in WoW, I just finish it.”

My head almost exploded. I’m using every ounce of energy and concentration I have. I’m so wrapped up in the game my hands are shaking and my heart is racing. Dan’s over there playing WoW, listening to music and talking to his friends.

See, that’s one of the reasons I don’t like playing with the kiddies

Peckerwood (LeoGetz) - Leo Maguire. For the longest time Leo was LeoGetz. We played golf this past spring in South Carolina with an officer from the Sheriff’s Department. This guy kept calling him Peckerwood. I don’t know what a Peckerwood is, but it was making me nervous in a Deliverance kind of way.

Peruse this and see if you don't agree.

http://oldiesman999test.blogspot.com/2011/08/how-to-become-peckerwood-without-really.html
Grape Ape (Wizard) - John Lyons. John came into the clan as the Wizard because he thought he was good (a wizard) with a sniper rifle. The story of why he’s the grape ape is already listed on the blog. You should go read it.

http://oldiesman999.blogspot.com/2010/07/grape-ape.html

Deadeye – Dave Snyder. I’m told he has an issue with one of his eyes.

Excalibur – Cory Snyder. I never got Excalibur. We play shoot-em up games. What’s up with a sword? Maybe that’s why he loses all the time

Here's a little vingette about Ex.

http://oldiesman999test.blogspot.com/2011/08/excalibur-drools.html

Angryswede - Mark Lord. He’s Angry and he’s a Swede

It galls me to add this snippet about my friend Swede.  But you know what I always say, screw Swede.

http://oldiesman999test.blogspot.com/2011/08/swede.html

Reverend – Martin Kelly. He made himself a minister just because someone told him he couldn’t do it. Think about it, the only reason he’s a minister is to prove a point and someone else wrong. Of course, he’s an online minister, I’m not sure it would hold up in a court of law. I wouldn’t want to be married by him. Wait a minute, can you say Loop Hole?

Big Red – Ryan Kelly. Ryan is 6’ 4” with red hair and a red beard. Big red, get it?

Yesdear – Bill Daigle. He always says Yes. He always just does what he wants. The two don’t necessarily line up. It’s beautiful really

Doubledip – Kevin Daigle. He took home two awards at last year’s golf event.

Papa – Brian Daigle. He’s the father of a brand new baby boy. Colin was 11 days old when Brian played with us.

Carpentar – Duane Fafard. Duane paid for some home repairs that he didn’t get.

Shortfuse – Sean Daley. This should be self explanatory

Rizzo – Dave Reid. I have no Idea why they call him Rizzo. Funny story though. When I was coming up with the names, I thought I’d tag him with Ratso. People looked at me like I was nuts. No one got the reference. Then I took a poll. Everyone over 50 knew immediately what it meant, no one under 50 had a clue. I then asked “Did anyone SEE Midnight Cowboy?” They looked at me like I had two heads. WOW, so this is what it feels like to be old. Ipso facto, Dave kept Rizzo. The jokes aren’t funny if NO ONE gets them.

Hitman – Jay Harts. It’s a play on Hitman Hart, of WWF fame. (It was the WWF when the Hitman was there) He had another name that I wouldn’t use. You may have seen it. I thought it kind of mean so I switched it. Sorry Jay, but it’s a family show.

Alice – Alex Cutrone. This is another one I already posted. Alice is as Alex does. You should read this one too.

http://oldiesman999.blogspot.com/2010/02/alice-is-as-alex-does.html

Mulligens - Pete Edmunds . Pete’s got a Tattoo on his arm that says “Mullens” When Pete signed up to play this year he was concerned because he hadn’t played in 12 years. Mullens, 12 Years, WBFL, IPSO FACTO, MULLIGENS.

Bone Crusher - Jay Hyland.  Jay is a giant among mere mortal men. One day he was doing what giants do and demonstrating great feats of strength. Basically, he was moving an office credenza, by himself. I’ll skip to the end. Jay dropped the thing and it landed on his toe. Basically, he crushed the middle phalanges of his big toe. (I had to look that up) He crushed the thing good. He turned one big toe bone into 100 little big toe bone pieces.

Baby Bing (Bada Bing) – Greg Garafolo. Yeah this is the guy that is the force befind most of the rules we have. Rules like, you can’t take a mulligen on the green. Greg’s real tag was Bada Bing. Somebody (Excalibutt) was taunting him one night making Baby Huey references. IPSO FACTO BABY BING

Deputy Dangle – Pete Lavallee. Pete came to us with his tag. I didn’t ask him how he got it. I was afraid of how he might answer.

Anyway, those are the tags and how everyone got them. There are more people who are/have been in the WBFL. People like Firestorm, Fish, I_Eat_Babies and Jaybird. Too many to list.

So for those that have now played with us, for the rest of your life, you will be {WBFL}(your tag here). So it’s {WBFL}Yesdear, or {WBFL}Shortfuse etc. Wear you tags proudly and know no good comes from it. Once you are a member of the WBFL, there’s no going back. It’s like learning to fall off a bike.

2011 WBFL SUMMER SWING GOLF OUTING

Well folks, the 2011 WBFL Summer Swing Golf Extravaganza and Poker Tournament is in the record books. It started early, finished late and left no permanent mark, at least not one that you can see from your house. It’s 3:50 PM Sunday afternoon as I write this and I’ve just gotten out of bed. My head is throbbing to beat the band and hopefully my stomach will settle down enough in an hour or so that I can eat something. A good time was had by all.


Several important lessons were learned this year. This was not the most well run and organized event we’ve ever had. We started late and finished even later. Tee time was 10:30. I told Lisa a round of golf took about 4 hours and that we’d be back to the house by 3:30. At 4:00 we were just finishing up the 14th hole. Oh everyone from our group was at the course on time, early really. There were three tournaments in front of us, they slowed us down. We didn’t tee off until almost 11:00. The delay did enable us to properly prepare for our day’s events. Quick observations, some of our guys are not the sharpest knives in the draw. We have an event called Shortest Drive. Do you have any idea how many times I was asked if you had to reach the fairway to have you drive count? Come on guys, Shortest Drive what do YOU think. The event started because one guy caught his own tee shot and last year a guy drove the ball 0 yards, 0 inches. NOWWWWW you are asking if the ball has to be in the fairway. Yikes. And who’s the chucklehead that took the wrong cart. Really, the wrong cart? Come on now. The cart number is written in about 6 inch tall numbers on the key ring. How the heck can you take the wrong cart? I won’t tell you who it was so that Leo can retain some pride. Leo bud, did you get your license back. They pulled me into the office and “talked” to me about that for about 10 minutes. Let’s just say the course manager wasn’t happy. Before we teed off I personally handed people their own copy of the rules. Over the course of the day three guys told me I should have written down the rules for the event so they would know what they were supposed to be doing. One guy did it as I was handing him the rules.

Me: Brian, here’s a copy of the rules.
Brian: There are rules to this thing?
Me: Ahhh, hello, yes.
Brian: Why don’t you write them down so people know what they are?
Me: HELLLLOOOOOO, read the piece of paper I just handed you. Here are your markers for shortest drive, longest throw and furthest from the cup.
Brian: What are the markers for?
Me: Just read the rules.

I’ve also learned the Leo is a prick. A funny, vindictive, mean spirited, ball busting prick, but a prick none the less. Leo buddy, who told you to move the flag to the center of the sand trap? Bob buddy, how did it feel to smoke a shot right at the pin, only to learn you were AIMING at the sand trap. Next year we’ll have to add a Best Practical Joke award to our list. I tell you what, that’s some funny stuff. Oh yeah, that moving the Tee box thing was funny too. HELLL-OOOOOOOO guys, FYI, the whites are always in FRONT of the blues.

So, without further ado, on to our list of award winners for 2011

The 2011 LGM Longest Throw – Winner = Pete (Deputy Dangle) Lavallee

I was REALLY surprised at this. I got to the 4th hole and found about a dozen little white markers planted all around. I was also surprised that EVERYONE put their name on the marker. I see you read the rules. Good for you. OK, ALMOST everyone wrote their name on the marker. I found just one unnamed marker. Fortunately, it wasn’t even close being the longest throw. Think about it guys, if you don’t put your name on the marker, how am I supposed to know who made the throw? Most of the markers were pretty short. It’s what I expected. That’s the joke. There were however 3 pretty long markers. They were from Leo (Peckerwood) Maguire, Cory (Excalibur) Snyder and Pete. Leo and Cory were laying out there at about 102 yards (paces, roughly a yard to a pace) There was probably less than an inch difference between the two of them. Pete was out at roughly 103 yards. It wasn’t a full pace in front of Leo and Cory, but it was further.

Congratulations gentlemen, a more competitive event than I had imagined.

Two quick comments. Leo cheated. Leo threw it down the cart path. Pretty smart, but it’s still cheating. Nice try. Leo bud, word of advice, if you are going to cheat, you are supposed to win. Cheat AND lose. Come on. Haven’t I taught you anything? Finally, who’s the chucklehead that threw one into the woods? The entire fairway is out in front of you and you throw it into the woods. How the hell did you miss the fairway?

Whiner Award – Winner = Alex (Alice) Cutrone

Some awards are intended for specific people. I was planning on giving the Whiner Award to Cory. I had a whole speech worked out continuing my “Old Guys Rule” taunt that I’ve been doing for the last two weeks. Wasn’t I surprised when I couldn’t give it to Cory. I mean, I really wanted to. But Alex in the last two days really stepped up his whining quotient. I could go on for an hour about it. He was in, he was out, he could play, he couldn’t play, it’s too early, it’s too late. He tried to drop out as late as Friday afternoon. I had to talk to his wife, SHE MADE him play.

Alex bud, I added a Whiner award specifically to break Cory’s crackers. The lengths you had to go to have me give it to you was astounding. Way to put in the extra effort buddy.

Holy Crap that Guy and Eat – CORY (EXCALIPUR) SNYDER

This is another award that was meant for someone. I thought John (Grape Ape) Lyons would win this one. I had it all planned out. I was going to get my nephew Kevin to stand up next to him so I could make a Perfect 10 crack (Kevin is the skinny kid that played with us. John? Well let’s just say he’s not that skinny)

On my poll of the crowd, the unanimous choice for this year’s big eater was Cory. Way to go dude. You stole John’s award.

Longest Drive – Winner = Kevin (Doubledip) Daigle

Longest Drive had the ear marks of going unclaimed this year. Oh, it wasn’t because no one could keep it in the fairway. Oh no, that’s not it. No, I thought this was going to go un-awarded because we lost the marker. Yeah that’s right. At the start of the long drive hole, the guys that had the marker asked me what to do with it. Bear in mind, we were BOTH at the tee box of the 12th hole. They teed off and all of them put it in the woods. I was on the tee watching them. As they headed off from their 2nd shot, I was looking at Pete and Alex and commenting that they had not placed the marker. We teed off and I immediately headed off to the group in front of me to see where the marker was. When I reached them, I was informed that the marker was missing. Can you imagine that? They had it at the tee. By the time they reached the FIRST shot, it was missing. YIKEs, we’re three holes in and already the wheels are coming of this bus.

Anyway, the marker was found, the competition could go on.

There were only three names on the marker, Pete (Mulligens) Edmunds, Cory and Kevin. Kevin edged out Cory by slightly over 2 feet. Cory buddy, another award missed by a very slight margin. You know what they say don’t you, close but no cigar (you thought I was going to say Old Guys Rule didn’t you?).

A quick note about Pete’s shot. Pete was the only one of my group to hit the fairway. When I found out the marker was missing, I was a little annoyed, ok pissed. We took our second shot. As we waited to take out 3rd, the guys in from of use came back with the marker. I took it walked about two steps back to my ball when I thought “FU&^% it” and stuck the marked in the ground right where I was. We were well over 300 yards out. For anyone that remembers the course, you know how the cart path cuts across the fairway out by the 150 marker? I stuck it in the ground right there. I looked a Pete and said “There you go buddy, you’re winning the long drive.” I was SHOCKED to learn that two people drove it past that mark. Way to go guys. That was a really long poke. Well north of 300 yards. It’s a 500 yard hole. Pete’s marker was out at about 310/320 yards. Pete’s was a cheat (I know Leo, I already said it, if you’re going to cheat you should cheat to win).

Shortest Drive – WINNER= Duane (Carpenter) Fafard

This is really the Dan Martin I can Catch my Own Tee Shot Award. Dan Martin caught his tee shot a couple of years ago, hence the award. Last year, Sean (Short Fuse) Daley won the award with a drive of 0. He knocked the Tee out from under the ball and the ball dropped right where it was. At that time I said that we were going to need negative yardage to beat Sean’s mark. Duane fulfilled that prophecy. Duane wins the award this year with a mark of MINUS 15 yards. Way to go Duane. Way to step it up. Or down, depending how you want to look at it.

Most Dangerous – Winner = Dave (Rizzo) Reed.

his award had been dominated by Chris Silva for years. Chris wasn’t with us this year so the award was up for grabs. Dave (Rizzo) Reed stepped it up and DOMINATED all other entrys for this award. Dave actually hit somebody with one of his shots. The way I hear it, the guy was hiding behind his cart at the time. Dave hit the guy’s cart. The ball rattled around the cart for a while then shot out the back, scooting out between the bags of clubs. As you can deduce, hiding behind the bags of clubs did not guarantee this guy’s safety.

High score – Winner = Pete (Deputy Dangle) Lavallee

This year this award is dubbed “To Infinity and Beyond.” Last year we called it the Take up Tennis award. It’s given to the player with the highest gross score. Last year, Bob (Candlepin) Kilgoar took this prize in a landslide victory. Bob had designs on keeping the high score crown. Alas, it wasn't so. This year the award goes to Deputy Dangle. To be fair, this was the very first time Pete L has ever played golf. Playing in the WBFL event is a risky move for a 1st timer don’t you think? Though it was Pete’s first time out he didn’t really play that badly. This award was more competitive this year but Pete still took it with a score of 112. Pete, don’t feel bad. I took this award once in a different tournament with a score of 153. So you see, 112 is not all that bad.

Closest to the Cup – Winner = Leo (Peckerwood) Maguire

This one was easy to figure out. Leo’s was the only name on the marker. 19 guys played in this little outing. LEO?? was the only guy to hit the green? What the heck is up with that? Oh yeah, now I remember, Leo moved the flag into the sand trap.

Furthest From the Cup – Winner = Alex (Alice) Cutrone

Alex won by default. His was the only marker I could find. If there were other markers out there, they were gone by the time I got there. Of course, Alex was about a mile and a half away from the green anyway. He barely made it off the tee.

Low Net Score – Winner = Bill (Yesdear) Daigle.

As you know, we used a modified version of the Calloway scoring system to equalize the scores. Based on his handicap, (no, it’s not being related to me) Bill’s net score was a low 67. WTG Bill!!!! No one else was even close. OK, I kinda was.

SO anyway, when I announced this score I made like I was the winner. I wanted to get a rise out of Pigeon Boy AKA Cory Snyder. His eyes bugged out and he looked pissed. I think he really wanted it. He looked like he was going to say something, but he didn’t. I think the prospect of not only losing, but losing to me had him speechless. He said nothing. Good for you Cory, you are starting to learn.

Most Gross – Winner(s) = John (Grape Ape) Lyons, Sean (Short Fuse) Daley, Duane (Carpenter) Fafard, Bob (Candlepin) Kilgoar

Most Gross was a foursome award. This was given to the foursome with the highest overall gross score. These four guys blew it away with a combined a score of 406.

The following is how the foursome scoring broke down:

Scoring


Hey look Cory. OLD GUYS DO RULE!!!


I have to admit, using the best tee shot did help lower overall scores this year. I was surprised by how much.

In order to keep things somewhat fair, I averaged the Zmans score because, after all he didn’t actually play. Since my foursome didn’t win anything, I feel this was an acceptable compromise. If anyone disagrees, oh well too bad for you. After all, I am the rules committee and cheating is a part of this game.


Now for the important part, the overall winners of the event. As you know, there was a team element to this event. What I never told anyone was what the teams were. I made four teams and split people up by age.


This years runners up were Team Also Ran. It was a close competition but we couldn’t edge out the eventual winners. Trust me, if there was a way for my team to take the prize, I would have done it. I’m not ABOVE cheating you know. However, I couldn’t do it. Maybe if the Zman came, we could have done it. But he stiffed us.


So here goes the official announcement


2011 WBFL Golf Extravaganza Team Champions – WINNER = TEAM DAEDELUS.


Cory buddy. You gotta say it. Come on dude, the numbers don’t lie. And the numbers say it all. Come on buddy, it’s not admitting it that lessens you as a man. It’s refusing to. Everyone else admits it. One time friend. Ready? OLD GUYS RULE!!!


Here’s how the scoring broke down.

Team scores

I used the handicap score. After all that’s what the handicaps were for.


I was surprised no one asked what the names meant. Team Pickles, it’s a Rug Rats reference. See, they were the youngest team. Team Pennywise, doesn’t ANYONE read Steven King? It’s the evil clown from the book IT. You couldn’t find a bigger bunch of clowns than this group. HEELLLLL- ooooooooooo. Leo moved the flag, changed the Tee box. Get it now? Team Also Ran. Also ran, it’s how they list the losing horses in a horse race. You know: Win, Place, Show, Also Ran? Finally, there was Team Daedalus. Geez, does anyone watch movies? It’s the name of Clint Eastwood’s Old Guy team in the movie Space Cowboys. Jeepers, the jokes aren’t that funny if I have to explain them. YIKEs.


I had a surprise planned for this year. First I was going to make up a shirt that when it got wet, the writing would bleed all over the person wearing it. The proved to be too expensive a joke. It would have been $200 just for plain white underwear style tee shirts. Then I flashed on a brilliant idea of making up hand towels instead. Hand towels would have been $20. I bought a couple and made a test batch. It worked BETTER than I hoped. Unfortunately a problem was identified. The paint used to make the towels stained. Gentlemen, this was a GREAT idea. You all know how I like a good joke, especially when it’s at someone else’s expense. However, my conscience would not let me potentially wreck people’s clothing. It’s not you I’m worried about, but I have met most of your wives/girlfriends. I didn’t want to be beat up by girls again


I’m getting a little tired of documenting the day’s events so I’ll wrap up here. Yes, I did get spoken to this year. Leo taking the wrong cart kinda shook up the Pro Shop. Yes we were a little disorganized. Next year we’ll have to see if we can get the carts early so we can distribute gift bags, rules etc before we are rushing to tee off. Most importantly, holy shit did the golf game take forever. It wasn’t our fault. We got stuck behind a group that was super slow. At one point, there were two completely open holes in front of these people, and 3 foursomes piled up behind them. Yup, we were two of the three stuck behind. Finally, Yes, I had a ball. I hope you did too. The handicaps helped make scoring competitive. Best Tee Shot helped scoring too. It also sped up the pace. I think the day went great. I’m running out of ideas in regards to “twists” for this event. You got a year to help me figure out how to make it more fun. I’m definitely going to see if we can go off earlier next year.


Lastly, I’m thinking of changing one guy’s gamer name. I think Sean’s new tag will be Sean (Don’t call me Shawn) Daley. Sean my friend, I hope you noticed I did it right throughout this documentation. It’s all for you buddy.

I'm Not the Boss of My House

I’ve been a feeling a little wistful lately. Why? Oh I don’t know. Maybe it’s because my anniversary is rapidly approaching. Twenty-eight years, who would a thunk it? I can remember my third anniversary like it was yesterday. We were at my mother in laws. We had been invited for an anniversary dinner. As dinner was being prepared Lisa and I were talking to Great Aunt Angie. Angie was the matriarch of the family and a real hot sketch. We were talking about marriage and this being our third anniversary. At one point while we were talking Angie took a pause, looked at me and said, and I quote “3 years, wow that’s great. Gee, and nobody thought it would last.” Maybe it’s because I’ve been thinking a lot more about some of my life’s more interesting and sometimes traumatic events. I can’t go into all of them right now, but a lot of them are included on my list of things I won’t do three times. Then again, maybe it’s the realization that I’m not really the boss of my house. OK, maybe I DO know why I’ve been so reflective lately. The problem isn’t that I’m not the boss. I guess the problem is, I have trouble accepting it

So let’s be clear right up front. I’m not the boss of my house. There, I’ve said it, OK? I get it, I’m not the boss. Heck I’m not even second in command. I only moved up a notch in the family command structure after the dog ran off.

I should have known all along. I mean, there were indicators early on. Right from the beginning I lost control. Actually, to say I lost control would be to imply that at one point I actually had it. I think we all know that would be a bit of an exaggeration.

I started dating Lisa in the spring of ‘79. I can recall that first summer like it was yesterday. Weekends would roll around and there would be endless debates about what we were going to do. Every weekend it was the same thing. Lisa always wanted to go to the beach. Now, before I go too much further I should set the stage. I am a fair skin Irishman, as a kid, I was the typical red haired freckled face kid everyone saw burning to a crisp all on the beach. After a day on the beach you couldn’t tell which was redder, my hair, or my shoulders. (I got burned by the sun and I feel like a French fry) Lisa on the other hand is an olive skinned Italian girl. She was the kind of kid that would slather up with baby oil to get the richer, deeper darker tan. Can you believe that? She added extra oil just to darken the tan. Why does the word “basting” come to mind? So we’d debate on Friday.

Her - Let’s go to the beach.

Me - But I don’t want to go to the beach.

H - But I want to go to the beach.

M - Not me, I hate the beach.

H - Where should we go, Crane’s or Hampton?

M - I’m not going to the beach.

H - Why don’t you want to go to the beach?

M - Because I get sun burned, that’s why.

H - Oh don’t be a big baby. We go through this every week, you won’t get burned.

M – Yes I will. I’m not going. Have fun without me. I’m staying home.

H – OK then, I’ll pick up at 8:00 AM. Make sure you’re ready. We’ll stop and get subs from Izzy’s on the way. What do you want to drink?

We’d go to the beach, of course. I’d get fried and spend the next five days swearing that was it, I wasn’t going to the beach ever again. Then our Friday debate would start all over. Saturday, I’d be back on the beach. On a positive note, this was the summer that I learned I actually COULD burn through clothing.

You think I would have learned, right? Nah, this was too subtle. I didn’t pick up on the hint.

I keep laughing about my involvement in my own wedding. What seemed funny at the time was actually a clever manipulation designed to wrest away more control and any/all delusions I had of authority. It was a harbinger of things to come

I guess I started to really notice things were amiss while planning the Honeymoon. I don’t know why, but the honeymoon plans were made first. Set a date for the honeymoon, and then plan the wedding. Heck, we had the Honeymoon date before an actual wedding date. So the great “Where do you want to go” debate started. I was looking into a honeymoon that would be special. I was investigating Caribbean Cruises and secluded island getaways. Not Lisa, her sole choice was Disney World. I can’t begin to tell you how adamantly I argued against Disney. Why should we go on a kiddie vacation for our honeymoon? Shouldn’t we be doing something a little more adult, a little more special, a little more rooo-mannn-tic? I put my foot down, we could do Disney another time, but this was our Honeymoon. We were doing something Sexx-yyy. So just what did we do for our honeymoon? You guessed it, we went to Disney.

There were other indicators too. Lisa, “Hey Joe, what should we have for a wedding dinner?” Me, “I think we should have the beef.” Lisa,” No, “I think we’ll have the chicken”. Lisa “Hey Joe, which tux do you like?” Me, “Ooooh, I like this charcoal gray one with the plain white shirt. “ Lisa, “No, you are going to wear this black one with a pleated shirt.” (What the hell is the difference between charcoal gray and black, they looked identical to me). Lisa, “Hey Joe, what do you think of these flowers?” Didn’t matter what I was going to say, I was going to be wrong.

And still I didn’t get the hint. I mean I got it, and I laughed about it. But I really didn’t GET it.

I can however tell you the exact time and circumstance that power was overtly and permanently shifted. OK, it was already there, I had just refused to acknowledge it.

Dan was about two years old. He had gotten a cold so he wasn’t feeling well. He was in his crib sobbing and crying for his Mommy. Lisa and I tried to calm him. We’d rock with him until he got quiet and fell asleep. All would be fine until we put him in his crib. It’s like he had some crib based early warning system or something. As soon as his head hit his bed he’d wake up and cry. This went on for hours. Eventually, I went to bed. Lisa said she was tired too. She said she was going to let him lay down with us, just until he fell asleep. My response? No way, we weren’t letting him sleep in our bed. Lisa’s response? Well let’s just say I spent all night trying not to roll over and squish Dan. I didn’t want to find a Dancake in the morning if you know what I mean.

Now to be fair, the kid was sick and he just wanted him mommy.

The next night, same thing. How about the night after that? Yup, I ended up sleeping with Dan again. This went on for over a week. Eventually, Dan started feeling better, but now we couldn’t get him to stay in his bed. He was use to sleeping with his mommy and he liked it.

Now I have seen all those Oprah and Dr. Phil specials about raising children. I know the pitfalls of letting children stay in your room and I also know how to get them out. At least so I thought. The weekend rolled around and I announced my plan for removing Dan. I have seen T. Barry Braselton. I know how to handle this. Friday night finally arrived. It was the perfect, time to stage my coup. I would remove Dan from my room and reclaim authority of the Kelly dominion.

I announced to Lisa I was going to handle getting Dan back to his own bed. She protested, but I would have none of it for you see, I had a plan. I knew what you were supposed to do. You hold the kid, you cuddle the kid, you put the kid into his bed all the while telling the kid how much you love him and that you are right outside so that he is safe and secure. You kiss said kid on the head, and then leave the room. The kid will cry and yell but you hold firm, for 10 minutes. In 10 minutes you go back into the room and repeat the hold/secure/kiss/leave process. You wait 15 minutes before you return the second time. Then you wait 30 minutes, then 45 until eventually, he falls asleep and you don’t go back. I know this process. Hell, my friend T. Barry taught it to me. Simple, right? A simpleton could do this. Right? Did I ever mention that I hate T. Barry Braselton?

So I kicked Lisa out of the house and put my plan to action. The boy would be sound asleep in his own bed by the time she got home. Lisa went to dinner and the movies or something, and I went to work. 11:00 PM rolls around and Lisa comes home. The grand plan has been in action for about 4 hours. She comes in the door and has a look of horror on her face. She looks at me and says “I can hear him screaming outside, what is going on?” I explained my Braselton plan. She said she was going to go get him. I forbade her from doing so. That’s right. I forbade her. Yeah baby, I was in control and it felt good. A minor skirmish ensued but in the end, she left it all up to me. Ah yes, command, it had a nice feeling. King of the castle. All was right with the world.

I went to bed at about 1:30 with the boy still crying. When I entered my room there was Lisa lying down with the lights on and the pillow over her head. She scowled at me and asked “how long is this going to go on?” I responded “As long as it takes, he’s not coming in here.” I got up the next morning all bright eyed and bushy tailed. I looked at Lisa. Her eyes were bloodshot. She wasn’t smiling. Her hair was shooting out in a hundred different directions. I looked at her, chuckled and asked, “So what time did Dan fall asleep?” Through her teeth she said “He hasn’t, he’s been awake all night crying, calling for his MOTHER!” I then asked, “So what time did you fall asleep? “She said “I haven’t, I’ve been up all night listening to him cry and you snore.” I said "Great, don’t let him sleep all day. Make sure he doesn’t nap. He’ll sleep tonight."

We kept him awake all day. Oh, he’d nod off for a moment or two, but we’d make sure it wasn’t for long. That night when I put him to bed, I was sure he would sleep. He didn’t. It was the same as the night before. Sunday morning when I woke up, Lisa was hovering over me with a pillow and a blunt object. She just growled "I’m getting him up and he’s sleeping with me." I just looked at her and said “No, you are not. We cannot let him sleep during the day. He will definitely sleep tonight.”

Sunday was hell, Neither Lisa or Dan was happy. Dan just wanted to be held and Lisa just wanted me dead.

Monday morning I was seriously afraid for my life. If Lisa had gotten any sleep or had had some strength, I’m not sure I’d be here today. At this point she’s no longer even talking to me. She’s just making low guttural grunting noises and pushing me out of the way. I looked at her at this point and said “This is day four and Dan has had no sleep he’s GOTTA fall asleep tonight.” Let’s just say I left the house at a full gallop this day.

Monday night rolled around and the scene was unimaginable. Dan was out of his mind. He hadn’t slept for more than 10 minutes in four days. Lisa too. But I was holding firm. He was not coming into my bed, Lisa was not going to get him, and he was staying in his room. That was that. It was final. In this test of will power, I would be king and the KING reigns supreme!

I will remember this like it happen only seconds ago for the rest of my life. This is the first time Lisa actually hit me. It was about 1:00 AM. I was sleeping and Dan was crying. All of a sudden there was a sharp pain in my back. I don’t know what she hit me with but it was hard, and it hurt. She whacked me good a second time. I knew what it was this time because, I was now awake. In a very low, very stern, kinda scary voice she said “get up”. I rolled over and said “What the hell was that?” She said “He’s still crying.” I responded “Yeah, so?” She said “I’m going to go get him. If you don’t like it, I don’t care. You can go somewhere else. Move in with your mother, go to you brothers, go to hell, I don’t care. I’m getting him and if you don’t like it, tough shit.” I just laid there stunned. I said “Noooooooo, you are not.” She looked me square in the eyes and through her teeth said “That kid hasn’t slept in four days, I haven’t slept in four days. All he wants is his mother, if you don’t like it too bad. If he wants to sleep in my bed then he’s going to.” With that she got out of bed, grabbed Dan and brought him back. The two of them lay down and immediately passed out. I couldn’t sleep the rest of the night, my back was hurting.

The next night rolled around and it was time to put Dan to bed. Lisa picked him up and headed up stairs and said “we’re going to bed.” I said “He’s not sleeping in our bed.” She said “Oh yeah, you think so?” and put Dan on her should. Dan looked at me, smiled and I’m not sure but I think he flipped me the bingo.

So, can you imagine that? This two year old kid didn’t sleep for 4 days because he wanted to sleep with his mother. After this incident I held no control over him or Lisa. I’d try to get him to do something and if he didn’t want to, he’d just run to Lisa. And Lisa, she’d side against me because, well she just would (have you read the rest of my blogs? It’s understandable). I stopped arguing with her because; well my back would start to throb.

Dan was either in, or on the floor beside my bed until he was in the second grade.  The whole time I kept saying "We gotta get this kid outta here."  Lisa kept responding "Don"t even think about it."

In reality, since I have known Lisa I have only gotten my way once. My first house was a tiny little cape over in Mansfield across the street from the high school. OK, some people like to say it was behind the land fill. Me, I like to be more positive so I like to think of it being by the school. Anyway, I wanted to move, Lisa didn’t. I just could not get her to even consider moving. So how did we end up in Wrentham? I waited for her to be good and sick one day. I went and looked at houses with a realtor and found a couple that I liked, one in Mansfield, one in Foxboro and two in Wrentham. I dragged Lisa out of her sick bed and asked her to pick one. She had a fever of about 294 this day. Basically, she randomly picked a house so she could go back to bed. By the time she was feeling better I had already given a deposit and signed the purchase and sales agreement.

Though these stories are old, it doesn’t stop there. For example:

• When Lisa hit a milestone birthday, I told her I was going to take her to Hawaii. She said no, we were going on a cruise, with her friends. She also informed me she was willing to go without me if I had a problem with it.

• On the next milestone event, I told her I was giving her a long weekend in Paris. Wrong again, she rescheduled it for two weeks in Italy

• For years I was adamant that I would not be getting the kids a car. The kids could get their own damn car and insurance too for that matter. Lisa decided it would be a good idea to get the kids a car so they could get themselves back and forth to school in PA. Guess who won that debate?

Should I go on? I get a new example almost every day.

Take for example last weekend.  Someone called and asked what we were doing and invited us to their house for an afternoon of fun in the sun on Saturday.  I said we were busy, I had a ton of work to catch up on around the house.  They said the understood and that is was too bad we couldn't get together.  They no sooner  finished this brief conversation when they asked to speak to Lisa.  I'll give you one guess as to what I did that  Saturday.

I mean, I know people ask my opinion just to be nice and all.  But do they have to be so blatant about it.  I mean come on.
 
If I’m suppossed to be the King of my castle, who out ranks the King? Is it the Queen? Empress? Goddess? Well truth be told, Lisa out ranks them all.

So there you go. I’m not the boss of my house. Never was, never will be. Oh I try every now and again, but it isn’t going to happen. The one time I prevailed was the one time I tricked her. And she had to be good and sick for me to do it. Man oh man. Come to think of it, if she were sicker, maybe I could get things my way more often.

Winning the Battle and Losing the War

I had a conversation with Dan today about a something that happened at school. Ultimately it will be but a little bump in the road that will be a pain for him to rectify. In the grand scheme of things though, this little bump is going to rate as a minor annoyance or a little inconvenience as opposed to a real problem. I mean, we’re not looking for a kidney or anything for him. He’s just going to have to work a little harder for a short while. Listening to Dan talk about what was happening to him made me think of a story that I hadn’t thought of in quite a while.

Anyway, The Boy ran into an issue. He had to approach someone and make a case to rectify the problem. The person he spoke with unfortunately wasn’t about to even consider changing things. Though outwardly compassionate, there wasn’t a chance they were going to budge. This person conceded that Dan might be right, but it didn’t matter. Nothing was going to change.

Dan and I talked about his lack of leverage in the debate. The person he was engaged with held all of the aces and face cards. There was nothing that he was going to say or do that was going to change things. During our discussion I told Dan that he was in a semantic argument and that if he pushed it, and escalated it, and made a real issue out of it, he might be able to win it. I also said that if he did, in the long run he risked losing more than he could potentially gain right now. He could win the battle, but he risked losing the war. That comment made me think of a story from my own college days,

I think I’ve mentioned that I was on the seven year plan for college about a billion times. I went to school for two years, took three years off, then went back and finished up. Dear ol’ Dad carried the burden for the first two years. The last two were all mine. This arraignment had a dramatic impact on me; I use it as an example for a lot of different things all the time. The first two years were Party Time. However, when I was on my dime, it was all business. I went from “Yeah, if this professor doesn’t show up in 30 seconds this class is canceled YAHOOOO!” to “That son of a bitch better show, I’m not paying for him to blow off my class. He doesn’t show up, he owes me $200.00. I'll give him 30 more seconds then I'm gonna go get him.” Grades improved too. It wasn’t like I was on academic probation or anything, but I wasn’t necessarily motivated by grades the first time around either. What about the second time around? Well let’s just say my GPA improved dramatically.

On top of all that I worked full time too. My first year back, I worked two part time jobs. I got to pack groceries with the high school kids and retirees; I also worked for a game company running a paper cutter and drill press. My second year, I worked second shift in the Data Center for the BayBanks. This is actually where/how I started my career. BayBanks was the jumping off point for me. Anyway, the point of all this background is to illustrate the second two years were serious business.

I had to take a communications course. I had the choice of taking Effective Speaking, or Business Communications. I opted for Business Communications because, well frankly, I didn’t want to have to get up in front of the class and give presentations. Boy wasn’t I bummed when I found out the Business Communications class included weekly presentations. Tuesdays we wrote, Thursdays we presented. DAMN.

This was an 8:00 AM class. I hated 8:00 AM classes. I worked until 12:30 AM. 8:00 AM classes therefore came really early. I wasn’t always at my best.

One morning on the way to class, I had a traffic accident. I hadn’t fully woken up yet. I don’t know what I was thinking about when I pulled out in front of the other guy. I saw him. I knew he was there. I just didn’t think to stop. I cut him off huge. The end result? Not a scratch on my car, the other guy was totaled. Needless to say, I missed that class. By 10:00 AM I was in the professor’s office finding out what the assignment was for the next class. Another time my car broke down. I had to have it towed. I was abandoned by the side of the road. I was stranded. I had to try to find a way to campus, from campus to work, and then home again after midnight. Needless to say I missed class again and was back in the professor’s office the following day finding out the assignment. I was sick one day and missed another class. You guessed it, another trip to the professor’s office.

I was doing very well in this class all things considered. The class was all writing and presentation, fairly subjective if you ask me. At midterm I had a very solid “A” going.  My lowest score to that point had been a 95.

Shortly after mid terms there was a big snow storm. I was a commuter. I lived 30 minutes from school. At rush hour, the commute was more like an hour and 30 minutes. I left the house extra early the day of the storm. By 9:00 I had made it only half way to school. I turned around and went home. I had missed class again.

The next day I swung by the professors office. He wasn’t there. I waited to talk to him until after class a day later. After class I approached the professor and asked if there was a convenient time for me to swing by and talk about what if any assignment I had missed. We’re at the front of the class room. Now let me tell you about this prick. He was about 30 years old, maybe less. (I was 24 at the time) He wore one of those sporting/shooting tweed jackets. You know, leather patch on one shoulder and both elbows. And he was constantly sucking on an unlit pipe. I don’t know what he thought the pipe did for him, but he always either had it in his hand or in his mouth. It was like his professor prop or something. This guy was like a PBS caricature of an old world English Professor. Anyway, I asked if I could swing by his office. This prick looked at me and said “Well, if you came to class more often then you wouldn’t have to keep coming to my office. You really need to try to be here more regularly. I don’t think I have time, try me next week. Maybe one of your classmates can help you.” He made this comment in front of the entire class and it was just dripping in sarcasm. Sometimes it’s not necessarily the words, but how they are said that conveys the message. I felt about two inches tall. I slaked out of the room. Was trying to maintain my composure, but I was steaming. It was then and there that I decided I would not let this insult go unchallenged.

I had to wait until the following week for the next class. When class finally rolled around again I made sure I sat up front so that I would be in a good position to grab Professor Dipshit the second it ended. I was going to talk to him and I was going to do it publicly,

When class ended, I got into the doorway and asked if I could speak to Professor Prick’nstien. I got in the doorway so that I would block everyone else’s exit. I was embarrassed publicly; I was going to get an apology publicly. So Professor Prickface came over and asked what I wanted to speak to him about. I looked at him and said “You embarrassed me the last class. You did it in front of the class and I don’t appreciate it. You told me that if I came to class regularly then I would be better prepared. I’m not one of these kids whose mommy and daddy are paying for them to come to school. I work so I can come to school. This is coming out of my pocket. I’m not intentionally skipping your class. I’ve been to your office and discussed this with you.” I handed him a copy of the accident report. I then said, “I told you I had a traffic accident on the way to school which caused me to miss a class.” I handed him the towing bill “I told you my car broke down another time, here’s the bill. Oh and by the way, this car is not some junker. I have a new car. It’s less than two years old. (Two truths and a lie. It was a two year old car that I had bought new, but it was a Volari. Ipso facto, it was a piece of junk). I bought it. Mommy and daddy didn’t give it to me like some of the kids in this class. I work to pay for this class and that car and unfortunately, the car broke down which impacted my ability to get to class. I live 30 minutes away and when I have no car, I have no way to get here. Again, I have already told you all this.” I then handed him a copy of the Boston Globe from the day after the storm and said “The day of the storm I left my house over 2 hours early to get to your class. That means I left my house before 6:00 AM to get here. At 9:00 AM I was only half way here. Yes, at that time I decided to turn around and go home. I had been on the road for 3 hours and had already missed class.” The headline of the paper referenced all the traffic delays caused by the storm. I then said “I don’t have an excuse for the day I was sick, you’ll have to take my word for that. I’m not trying to skip your class because it’s inconvenient. I’m paying for this out of my own pocket. Every class I miss is like dropping a match on a pile of cash. It’s like throwing away money that I don’t have. I wish this semester was going smoother. I wish I hadn’t missed so many classes. I’ve have already explained all this to you. That said I don’t appreciate what you said to me or that you said it in front of the entire class. You owe me an apology.”

Again, I was standing in the doorway. Not a sole had left the room. They were all queuing up around me, waiting for me to get out of the door so they could leave. Needless to say, everyone in the room heard this exchange.

Professor Prickman just looked at me wide eyed. His mouth was agape. He was stunned. A second or two went by, and then he regained his composure. I got my apology. He apologized for being insensitive and doing it in front of the class. He offered to speak with me in his office to bring me fully up to date with all assignments. I thanked him but declined his offer.

At this point I left the classroom. I felt good. I had been publicly slighted. I had gotten a public apology. As far as I was concerned, the matter was closed.

For the rest of the semester, the best grade I got on anything I wrote was a “D”. Professor Prickmeister was kind of brutal in his critiques of my presentations too.

YES, I had won the battle. (Yeaaaa) OH NO, I had lost the war. (Booooooo)  I had gotten my public apology.   But this class wasn't going to help my GPA any.

Lesson learned.  Sometimes the best thing to do is just let things alone and make the best of what you’ve got. Had I just kept my mouth shut, I probably would have kept my “A”.   We'll never know.  Up until the doorway discussion  with Super Prick (Dauntless Defender of Conceit) this class had been fairly easy.  Afterwards, not so much.   What did I say about it earlier?  Grading was kinda subjective?  Let's just say the Anti-Professor was no longer looking kindly on what I wrote or presented. Hopefully, Dan the Man gains some perspective from this anecdote. Yeah, he could probably make a really good case for himself in the semantic debate he’s embroiled in. He might even spin it such that he prevails in this one argument. Unfortunately, there’s no way for him to win the war.  He's got no leverage. What was it the WOPR said? “Strange game Professor Faulken, the only winning move is not to play.”

I was once talking to my father about a similar situation to Dan's. Mine was work related. I was bound and determined prove to the boss I was right. Dad’s only comment at the time was “You’ll be the rightest man on the unemployment line.” Words of wisdom. Sometimes you just gotta know when to fold’em.

Good luck Dan.

Shhh, Don’t Tell Caity

I made my daughter a promise. I SWORE to her I would never tell the story I’m about to tell. She made me promise. She also made me a promise. She vowed that if ever I told this story that she wouldn’t talk to me anymore. Actually, what she promised is much worse than that. I’m just afraid to say it. So everyone, it’s very important that NOBODY tell Caitlin that I’ve written this.

I bunch of years ago I was at my brother’s house. He was getting ready to move and I was lending a hand. He was cleaning out a bunch of stuff and preparing the house to sell it, or rent it or whatever he was going to  do with it.  As we were wrapping up the day we were moving a bunch of air conditioners. Conversation moved to questions about what he was going to do with them. He was headed south. The house he had bought already had central air. He didn’t need these window units. Rather than just throw them in the junk, he offered them to me. Rather than spend the rest of the summer sweltering, I accepted. Very quickly before he could change his mind I scooped them up and put them in the car. I threw the big one in the trunk and the little one on the back seat, where the kids were supposed to sit.  Hey they were little too, they could squeeze in around it.

It got to be about 6:00 and it was time to head home. My brother had things to do that night and I was getting tired. We bid each other adieu and Lisa, the kids and I headed home. We were on the highway on our way home when the bright idea of heading to the movies stuck us. It was opening day for the Will Smith movie, “Independence day.” We’re debating whether or not we could even make the next showing and trying to figure out how to buy the tickets over the phone.

So Lisa and I are in the front seat fumbling for cell phones and credit cards when Caity started shouting that there was a bee in the back seat. Being the doting parent that I can be, I told her to leave the bee alone. She was now whining about being afraid of the bee. We told her to be quiet.

So we’re on the phone trying to buy the tickets and Cait’s in the back seat raising holy hell. She’s was like “Daaaaaad, there are bees back here.” I’m like, “Weeeeeelllllllll, then open the window and let them out.” Eventually I asked Dan if he saw any bees. His response was “No.” I should have known not to trust him.

About the time we pulled into the parking lot at the movies Cait was REALLY beginning to squirm and complain. By this time I was getting irritated. I’m just, “Hold on, you can get out of the car in a minute.”

We parked the car and I went around back to see what the problem was. Caity was still complaining about the bees. I opened the door and sure enough there was a bee in the back seat. It was without a doubt the smallest, tiniest, most miniscule bee I had ever seen. I brushed it away and started to chide Caity about being such a baby. Then I saw another one, then another. I changed gears now. Now I was trying to get Caitlin out of the car as quickly and as calmly as possible. I unbuckled her and hustled her out of the car. I looked at Dan and told him to roll his window down so the bees cold get out, then to get himself out of the car as quickly as possible.

Now, Caitlin’s about 10 years old at the time and she’s only about 5 feet tall. I rolled her window down a couple of inches and closed her door. As I  turned to head towards the movies I had a nice view of the top of her head. I looked down and on the top of her head  I thought I saw a bee. I brushed it away. Then another bee showed up. I brushed that away too. Then I noticed that all the bees seemed to be landing on her head and crawling through her hair. I don’t know what kind of conditioner she was using but boy oh boy the bees seemed to like it. The longer we stood there, the more bees landed on her head.

Now I’m starting to get excited. I grabbed her by the arm and said, “Caitlin, RUN!!!” Cait was like “What?” I’m like “RUN!!!!” She’s like “Where?” I’m Like “ANYWHERE!!!!” She’s like “Why” I’m like “CUZ THERE ARE BEES IN YOUR HAIR, TRUST ME JUST RUN!!!!” With that Caitlin took off.

Caitlin let out a scream and headed for the hills. I’ve never seen her move so fast. She took off dragging a cloud of bees behind her. I took off in hot pursuit. I started trying to brush the bees off her. She’s running as fast as she can, in a straight line, as far as she can. Me, I’m chasing after her swatting at the bees in her hair..

So, there I was, to the rest of the world I was some strange guy chasing a screaming 10 year old girl through the parking lot whacking her on the head. She's yelling and crying, I’m yelling for her to run faster, she’s flailing her arms, I’m hitting her on the head. It was quite the scene. Eventually I got all the bees out of her hair and she stopped running. I comforted her as best I could, took her by the hand and headed back toward the car.

I turned around and saw about 50 people forming a semi circle around us. It’s like they were trying to keep us from running away or something. And no one was smiling. A whole bunch of people apparently had started running after us. A couple of the guys looked like they were ready for some business. I’ve got Caity by the hand and she’s crying. I’m trying to tell people what had happened. Nobody is talking to me; everyone is asking Cait if she’s OK. When she composed herself enough to talk all she said was “I got stung.” To this day I contend that that simple comment kept me from being in some SERIOUS trouble with the crowd that had encircled us. Believe it or not there was a woman in the crowd that actually had some bee sting cream. Lisa and Cait went to her car. I stood by my car surrounded by a group of cranky looking guys. It was quite apparent they were keeping me from leaving. Apparently a fully grown man chasing a little girl yelling at her and whacking her on the head makes some people nervous and suspicious . People didn’t seem to relax until Caitlin came back and gave me a big hug then took my hand and headed to the theater. We walked in with a crowd of people.

We went into the movie. Caity got any anything she wanted this day. Popcorn, candy, soda, Ice Cream, anything to make her feel better. We found out later the air conditioner in the trunk had a big bee’s nest in the coils. The only lasting effect from this day was that Caitlin now has a phobia about bees. You want to hear her scream,  say bee to her.

She was upstairs over the garage playing video games just this past summer. I was downstairs watching TV. She came down stairs and said, “Hey dad, can you get the bat?” I’m like “Bat, what bat, why do you need a bat? She said “no, no, no, you don’t understand. I need you to get rid of the bat that’s flying around up there. I’m trying to play my game and it’s bothering me.” Sure enough, I went upstairs and there was a bat flying around. My skin started to crawl. I wanted to scream like a little girl. Caitlin was just standing there  going “Come on dad hurry up, I didn’t save my game.” I’m doing everything in my power to try and look calm in front of my daughter and she’s getting mad because the bat is disrupting her game. I went down stairs and opened the door.  Cait just stood there and watched the bat.  She's like "Hey dad, when are you going to get rid of this thing. I said "Give it a minute, it will fly out the door.  Eventually the bat flew downstairs, Caitlin followed.  The bat is now flying around the family room, Cait is  standing in the middle of the room watching the bat and starting to get irritated that I haven't taken care of this yet.  I went into the other room and started peeking around the corner to see if it would just fly away.   Eventually the bat flew out the open door.  When it was all over Caitlin just looked at me and asked, "So why did you go running to the other room.? A bat won't hurt you."  I responded "Noooooo, I was blocking the other doorway to keep it from flying around the rest of the house.  She rolled her eyes and replied "Yeah, right" then headed back upstairs to her game.  Oh sure, a creepy crawly, disease infested bat that will fly into your hair then try to use it's razor sharp teeth to bite you on the neck in an obsessive, compulsive quest to turn you into an unworldly creature of the night is no big deal. But a tiny flower pollenating, honey producing,  birds and bees love inspiring, cute little, fuzzy little cuddly little bee sends her screaming from the room.

Seriously now, don’t tell Caitlin I posted this. If she finds out I’m in BIG trouble. Actually, I’ve been telling her I was going to post it. She won’t be surprised. She’s gonna be mad, but not surprised. Oh well, such is the price of fame. Or is that infamy? I get that confused.

California Screaming

All the leaves are brown (Actually, all the leaves were still pretty green, the hillsides were all brown though)
And the sky is grey (In reality, the sky was brown too, have you ever been to California?)
I've been for a walk (Wellllllll, not really, it was more like a pretty long drive)
On a winter's day (Ooops, strike 4, it was actually the beginning of July)

Oh well, let’s pretend the song fits better.

Today I’m going to finish telling the epic tale of a business trip to California. I started the tale last February. I already talked about my co-worker telling the customer to SHUUUTTTTTTT UPPPPPPPPPPP!!! and being unreachable for most of the day while the customer stroked out over something simple. I just thought I’d wrap up the topic and finish by telling the rest of the story.

If anyone recalls there was this big project out in California that was scheduled to take the entire weekend. We were so efficient in our implementation that we wrapped up the project in just a handful of hours. As a result, we (When I say we, I mean the JJWild team, there were three of us working this project.) had a fair amount of time to kill for the remainder of the weekend. One guy bailed on us 10 seconds after we completed the conversion Friday night. Only my Friend Mikey stuck around for the rest of the weekend’s adventures.

We got up bright and early Saturday afternoon. Do you have any idea how hard it is to get breakfast in the hotel at 2:00 PM? Anyway, after we ate we entered into a very intense debate regarding our entertainment options for the rest of the day. Though not word for word, it went kinda like this: SOOOOO, what do you want to do? I don’t know, what do you want to do? I don’t know, that’s why I asked you, what do you want to do? I don’t know I’m not from around here what do YOU want to do? Don’t ask me, anything is fine, what do you want to do? You’re being a pain in the ass, just tell me what you want to do. You’ve been here before, what do you usually do? I don’t usually do anything, just gimme an idea of what you’d like to do. Etc. Etc. Etc. I had been going out to California for the better part of two years. I never spent one second doing anything other than  working or sitting in a restaurant. I didn’t have a clue how best to entertain myself for the rest of the weekend, other than of course sitting in a bar. I’d never had that kind of time before. In hind sight sitting in the bar may have been the better thing to do.

Eventually Mikey and I decided to jump in the car and head out, something would strike us. If we had only known how prophetic that thought actually was we probably would have stayed home. We got in the car and just drove off. We were out cruising around Monterey when we saw signs for 17 Mile Drive. What the heck, it is a touristy thing to do and we’re tourists today so let’s cruise down 17 Mile Drive. So we headed off on an adventure. The drive was really pretty, lots of exotic trees and plants and expensive stuff you don’t see at home. I kept looking at Mikey and saying “Boy, this would be a really great drive if I was doing it with Lisa and not you.”  Mike's response was "Well, think about how I feel, I have to do it with YOU!!!"  17 Mile Drive drops you out at Pebble Beach. COOOL! So we drove around Pebble Beach for a while. We then stumbled into Carmel. Double COOOOL! Let’s go look for Clint Eastwood’s Restaurant. There was one flaw in that plan; we didn’t know the name of the restaurant or where it actually was.

Eventually we found our way over to California State Route 1 aka the Pacific Coast Highway. NICE. As we were debating whether or not we should take a cruise on the PCH Mikey spotted a sign. The sign said “Road Closed 63 miles ahead, seek alternate route.” With that, Mikey got all excited. On Thursday we were talking to the customer. The topic was all of the environmental concerns to be addressed in California. One of the things we discussed was all the landslides that had taken place so far that year. The customer related a story about how recently there was a slide and when the road crews were working to repair it, a second slide occurred and pushed a bulldozer right off a cliff and into the ocean. Mikey read the sign and said “That must be what Tom (the customer) was talking about, I’ve never seen a landslide. Let’s go see it.”

We were off. We now had a purpose. We were on an adventure, a mission, a quest. We had something to do. No more aimlessly wondering around, we had a destination.

We headed out full of anticipation and glee. The PCH really is amazing, a wonderful drive. The view is spectacular. The road is windy (or windy take your pick) It serpentines along the face of the mountains/cliffs. To the left was hillside, to the right a 1000 foot drop off to the rocks and Pacific Ocean below. We drove along for what seemed like hours. 50 miles to the road closing, road closed in 35 miles, end of the road in 10 miles, road closed 2 miles ahead. Funny thing, once you get on this road, there really isn’t a lot of opportunity to get off. Eventually we rounded a corner and there it was, the end of the road. Well, it really wasn’t the end; it was really just where the  road washout was. You couldn’t miss it, HUGE barricades blocking the road with a large sign that said ROAD CLOSED. A BIG swatch of the road was missing behind the barricades.

There was a little convenience/general store almost right at the slide. The barricades can’t have been 50 feet past the parking lot entrance to the store. It was a touristy kind of mom and pop place. You know, stuffed grizzly bear out front, rocking chairs made out of bent tree branches, arrowheads, toy guns, maps and lapel pins. All the stuff you need to attract the tired tourist. Mikey and I pulled in for a break, a Coke and to figure out how to get back without having to backtrack all the way we had just come.

Mike was driving so he was getting directions. I was drinking my Coke and watching the traffic go by. Everybody seemed to be just pulling around the barricades and continuing to drive on. Nobody stopped. Nobody pulled over. Heck, some didn’t even slow down. They just drove around the blockade and pressed on. So I’m watching the traffic and looking at a map on the wall. Mike came over and said we had no choice but to backtrack. I looked at the map and said that it looked like in about a mile we could jump on Rte. XYZ, cut through the mountains and end up on Highway ABC. Then we could head back to Monterey. It had to be faster than backtracking 3 hours up the PCH, through Pebble Beach, and down 17 Mile Drive. Mike was like, “You are nutz, and look the road is closed”. I’m like “Yeah, sooooo. Everyone is just going around the barricade we can too.” Mike’s response was “No way’. I’m like “Ya Huh” . Mike’s like “Nuh ah” As we were arguing about crossing the wash out, a car drove past, around the barricades and crossed over. I said to Mike,” Look, the wash out is less than a quarter of a mile long. Everyone is doing it, we can too.” Mike looks at me and says, “Just because one car …….” Just then another car headed through on our end and a car started through from the other side. Mike just looked at me and said, “OK, let’s go”. The woman behind the counter was just standing there shaking her head.

So we got in the car and headed over to the washout. We pulled up to the edge of the pavement and Mike stopped. He looked at me and said “I can’t go in there”. I responded “Stop being a baby look, everyone else is doing it.” Mike responded something about all the ruts and boulders in the road and pointed out that there was at least a 4 inch drop off between the pavement and the dirt. I just looked at him and said “Stop being a baby. It’s a rental car. What do you care? A rental car will go anywhere. Look all those other cars have gone through. Stop being a wimp and lets go. It will save us at least an hour on our ride back.” Mike just looked at me shrugged his shoulders and plowed ahead. He dropped off the pavement with a heavy THUD on the frame.

Mike had pulled about 50 feet into the washout when he stopped. I looked at him and asked what the matter was. He said “Look Joe, the hillside, it’s still moving.” I looked over but I couldn’t see anything. I said stop being such a crybaby and let’s go. Mike responded that he wasn’t going anywhere while the Hillside was moving. I looked again and saw it, a little slide. It couldn’t have been much wider than a pencil. A little bit of gravel was trickling down the hillside. I just looked at Mike and told him that had he kept moving he would already be past this area and there would be nothing to worry about. Mike again responded about the ruts. As he was talking a car passed us. I just said, “Hey Mike, follow him.” Mike said “I can’t.” I asked why not. Mike responded “Because he’s in a truck he can just go over the ruts they are too deep for this car. I just said, “Stop whining, drive between the ruts then, let’s go.” All of a sudden it dawned on him. Mike looked at me and said “You stupid idiot, everybody else is in a truck or an SUV.  Those things are all 4 wheel drive.  We’re in a damn Chevy Malibu we can’t go through there. Why did I let you talk me into this."  I just laughed and said, “Well I guess this goes to prove it, a rental car WILL go anywhere, come on, let’s go.”

So Mike put it in gear again and pulled forward maybe twenty feet before stomping on the brakes. I looked at him and said “what now?” Mike said LOOK, IT’S GETTING WORSE.” I looked out the windshield. The little trickle was maybe now a little stream. The gravel was now small rocks and every now and then one the size of a grapefruit would roll past. I just looked at Mike. This time being as forceful as I could be I said “Look, if you would just go we would be past all this and on our way. Mike said something about damaging the car. Again I told him that we were in a rental, and a rental goes anywhere. What? Was he afraid of denting it? Who cares? It’s not his car. Stop being a fraidy-cat and let’s go. Mike finally stepped off the brake, the car almost moved then he stood on the brakes again. I just looked at him and said “’what now?” He just pointed and said “LOOK.” I looked forward, the little stream of dirt was now a small river pouring down the hillside. Now the small rocks were the size of grapefruits, big ones where the size of a laundry basket. I was right in the middle of telling Mike to go on when the first boulder came crashing down. This thing was the size of a washing machine. Then another came down, then a third. Mike threw it into reverse and said “Screw you; I’m getting out of here.”  He put the pedal to the metal and stopped worring about the ruts as he raced out backwards  Remember the 4 inch drop off to get from the pavement to the dirt?   He slammed back onto the pavement with another very heavy couple of THUDs.  I think he broke the road.  We didn't look to see if he bent the car.

The ride back to the hotel took in excess of two hours. Closer to three in actuality. The PCH is not much fun in the dark. You really can’t see the ocean, or the trees, or Pebble Peach in the pitch black.   The headlights punched holes in the darkness, all you could see was what was in their light.  The rest was utter blackness.  No street lights,  no house lights, and at that time of day, no other head lights.  My Fiend Mikey spent most of the ride questioning my sanity and wondering why he listens to me. He really should have been questioning himself. After all, he was the one driving.  It's not like I could MAKE him try to cross the washed out road.   I just proposed an idea, he ran with it.  What was it mother used to say? “If your friends told you to light yourself on fire and jump off the roof would you do it?” Same thing really, it’s his own fault.

I still contend that had he just gone for it we would have been through.  He's been telling people I tried to kill him ever since.  The big crybaby.

When we got back to the hotel is when all the phones and pagers started going off. For anyone that forgets what happened next see “All in a Day’s Work”, February 24, 2010 for a refresher.

So Saturday was surreal. The day started fine in the middle and then fell apart on both ends. Sunday just had to be better.

So Sunday we got up BEFORE noon. Nice. We had a reasonable breakfast at a reasonable time. It was civilized, just like the rest of the day is going to be.

We were sitting around at breakfast debating the day’s activity. A recurring theme began to arise. We needed to see trees, tall trees, trees you could drive through. So a plan was hatched, we were headed out to find a really tall red tree that we could drive through. We had headed south on Saturday.  No drive through trees in that direction.  Sunday we’re heading North.

As we were leaving the Hotel we were told about the Garlic Festival. Garlic Festival? Sounds weird, but what the heck, it’s been a weird weekend already. Plans were modified so we could  swing by and attend the festival.

We jumped into the car and headed north. We were headed for The Festival. It was north, we were going north. Why not? I was unaware of this but California is a large garlic producer. Who knew? Well, I suppose a lot of people did, but I didn’t. I’m going to skip a head a little. The bottom line is we skipped the garlic festival. We weren’t within 2 miles of the place and the smell was overpowering. We could see it off in the distance but we decided not to attend. CRAP, the car and my clothes smelled like garlic the rest of the day.  Amazing really when you consider we never actually made it there.

We re-launched our quest to find a Redwood tree we could drive through (Giant Sequoia?).

As we headed north we kept seeing signs for the Mystery Spot. It was everywhere. Bill boards, highway signs (28 miles to the Mystery Spot) bumper stickers. Everywhere we looked it seemed like there was another advertisement for the Mystery Spot. Curiosity being what it is, eventually we decided we just had to see it.

We got off the highway and drove miles and miles through the woods until eventually TA DA we found the Mystery Spot. It was $15.00 to get in. $15.00 a piece that is. A little pricy but what the heck, we’re there now. Before we were allowed into the Mystery Spot we were told a story. We told about how this spot was found in the 1800’s and how gravity and time don’t work the same there. Compasses spin wildly out of control, watches run backwards, water runs uphill. Even the trees don’t grow straight there. This phenomenon has been unexplainable by scientists for over a hundred years. We’re told that if we start to feel dizzy, or faint or nauseous we should let somebody know so that we can be immediately evacuated from the area,

So we marched up to the mystery spot in a small group of about 30 people.  All of a sudden there it was, a giant sink hole that nature has started to reclaim. You could see where the trees had started to topple into the hole then stopped, and continued to grow right where they ended up. Over the hole was one of those crooked houses. You know what I mean?  All of the doors and windows and frames and sills and handrails etc were crooked. They are deliberately crooked. You know the old adage; there was a crooked man who had a crooked house? It was that house. To show the odd effects the Mystery Spot had on metallic objects they did an experiment with a plumb line. Sure enough, when they dangled the weight on the end of the line, it hung crooked. Or maybe it just looked crooked because there wasn’t a level or even line in the place to compare it with. Then they showed how a ball would roll uphill. OH MY GOD NO, not UPHILL!! (Doodlely doodley do do do) Anyone that has been to the children’s museum has seen this one. Again, it was another optical delusion.  The whole freak'n place was nothing but an optical delusion.

I walked out of the mystery place feeling violated. I guess there is a sucker born every minute. I guess this time it was me and Mikey. I realized that there really was a mystery there. It wasn’t balls rolling uphill or trees growing crooked. No, the mystery was, how the hell did I let myself get suckered into paying $15.00 to see a sink hole?

We walked out of the Mystery Spot and we were laughing. We were laughing at us. We started talking to one of the “guides”. While we were talking to this person we asked where we had to go to see a tree we could drive through. The guide looked at us like we were from Mars or something and asked "Why?  What do you wan to do THAT for?"  We had a long lovely conversation about our being out of towners and how we had never seen even one of them tall trees.  After about a 15 minute conversaton the guide finally said "I think you have to go Oregon to see that." We had to ask, so we did. What the hell, we were already committed and there was nothing else to do this day.  We asked, “So how long will it take us to drive there?” Now, we’re from New England, in three hours we could pass through 3 states. The west coast is California, Oregon and Washington. How long could it possibly take? The guide looked at as and said “Oh I’m not sure, two days?”

We left the Mystery Spot a combined $30.00 poorer and a little dejected. No tree driving on this trip. It was getting late anyway. We decided to head back.

We headed back and were driving along the coast looking at the ocean. We were about an hour from the hotel. I kept looking at the ocean, marveling that there was no one on the beach. I convinced my friend Mikey (see he's corruptable, very easily given to suggestion)that we should pull over and take advantage of the sand and surf. After all, in all my trips to California I had never even set foot on the beach let alone stuck so much as a toe in the water. We parked the car and headed to the shore. We got down to the water line when I decided that I might never have another opportunity. I kicked off my shoes, rolled up my pants and headed into the surf.

I waded into the Pacific. It was Faaaaahhhhhh-reezing. Kind of like the water in Maine in early May. YIKES. What the heck, this was a one off event. I was gonna make the best of it. I headed in. I was up to about my knees when a jogger headed by. On his way by he looked over and said. “You might want to come out of there.” I responded, “Why? Cuz its cold?” and made a crack about being from New England. As the jogger headed off he looked over his shoulder and said “Nope, the sharks start coming to feed about this time of day. See the seals on the rocks over there?” He pointed to a small seal colony about 100 yards or so further out.   Then he disappeared down the beach.

So, I climbed out of the water, put my shoes back on and went back to the hotel. I was headed to the bar. This fun filled day of California dream’n was officially over. Luckily, on Monday so was the trip.

Tell the truth, who’s luckier than me? Well, maybe Mikey is.  Anyway, this weekend went smooth as a baby’s butt. Of course you have to remember, a baby’s butt is sometimes covered in poop.