Even Wallets Have Jokes

I went to Clemson last weekend for the Clemson/TCU football game, and to see the Broadway show Avenue Q at the Brooks Center for Performing Arts, which happens to be my favorite place in the world, particularly because of the amazing, wonderful people that frequent the place, along with the people that work there (minus the band, but that's another story for another day.) The trip started out pretty normal until I hit Ocala, Florida. The sleepy, horse town is the only "major" town on I75 from Tampa to Valdosta, but it is still not known for its population. So as I'm driving the route 580 miles north to Clemson, about 90 miles into my trip there is traffic, and when I say traffic, I mean that LA would have been jealous of this traffic. People were out of their cars, engines off, just enjoying the beautiful 98 degree 1000% humidity day in Ocala. Ok, so it wasn't that hot, but it was close. Finally, after 45 minutes or so we started moving again and made it through to see that it was a rather large, injury-filled accident. There were a lot of ambulences, but I hope no one was seriously injured. But I digress. (again with that phrase!?!? I can't stop.) Making great time on my way north and there is a bypass through Macon, Georgia. Not really sure why that is, but I take it because that's how I roll, and don't know any better, and because the GPS woman would yell at me if I didn't. She yells at me all the time. I guess I'm a creature of habit and like to take my own ways home. But that traffic that I spoke of in Ocala was now on the bypass. I thought it was a bypass because people wouldn't play bumper cars on this road. When I got up to the "accident" it was good to see that it didn't look like anyone was hurt, only a F150 (or some truck thing like that) was jackknifed and the 1000 foot trailer (or so it seemed) was in the two right lanes, and his truck was facing the wrong direction. The trailer looked like it went into the side of the truck. It was different looking. Kind of made me smile, in a non-masochistic way. I'd never seen that before. Cross that off the list of...well, I'm not sure what list to cross that off of, but cross it off already and make me stop writing about it. And finally, Atlanta traffic, was, well, Atlanta traffic. Needless to say, I made it to the Brooks Center in plenty of time to see the show and to see all sorts of friends. The show was unbelievable. If you like pure comedy, it's brilliant. If you like puppet comedy, you may need to be hospitalized after the show from laughing so hard. Basically, for those who don't know about the show. It's a spoof of Sesame Street, 'nuff said.

Before I got to Clemson, I got a text from Bird and she said that she would "see me early tomorrow." That seems like a non-factor, with the exception of that's where I stay when I go to Clemson for the weekend for a game or what-have-you. So I took that as if I was not welcome to sleep there Friday night, and try again on Saturday night because Bird and Giggles have two young children. So now I try my former co-workers, students, young co-eds, whatever would work. All of them said I could absolutely stay with them, BUT that the show was packing up and headed to Syracuse, NY in the morning, and it's a huge show and they weren't expecting to be out of the theater until 4am. (I heard on Sunday that they didn't step foot out of the theater until 7am. Ouch.) So I went to my trusty computer and found a hotel, in Clemson, with vacancy, and it wasn't one of the two shady, SHADY ones. It was a new Holiday Inn Express and Suites, and it was sweet! Got a good nights sleep, and was ready for a day of debaucherous behavior.
Saturdays in Clemson during football season are wonderful days. I woke up relatively early for a Saturday and drove over to the Brooks Center with my running gear on. Ran my program (Week 3, Day 2, even though I'm about 4+ weeks into it, I'm taking my time) through campus and a steady drizzle. It was awesome. I think, through my breaths I was smiling the whole time. I love that place.

I had a lot of beers before the game, but the day, weather-wise was not so good, but it couldn't dampen me more than the BudLights could. I was probably a bit buzzed before the game, but the game and the adreneline of it sobers me up and brings about the hang-over around halftime. Clemson ended up losing the game in a driving rain. I was completely drenched from the rain this time. "Cute boy jeans" as they've been called in the past, and a sweatshirt and about a mile to walk back to my car. I made the most of it, hanging with Bird, Giggles et al. after the game, having a good ole time. Walked back to the car when it seemed we were being kicked out of the parking space, about 4 hours after the game. The next stop was a bar about 10 miles away and closer to the Bird-house (haha. I crack me up sometimes), which I was yelled at for not asking to stay there on Friday night and could absolutely stay there on Saturday. I knew where I was going, and said my short good-byes to the crew and started my mile or so walk from one end of campus to the other. Walked back with a cute older couple (probably in their 40s) who didn't really know where they were going and probably had too much to drink after the game, but it was great. I asked them where they were headed and they said they were going home. I then added, to the wife, "you gonna get your feet rubbed?" That was all it took. I think I started WW3. But in a humorous way. For about 3/4 of the mile walk, these two were bickering that she should get a foot rub and he should run her a bath, and he said that he was going to the shower and then immediately on the couch and had no time for either. It was amazing and I think I laughed the entire time.

On to the point of this useless rambling. I get back to the car, and immediately change into some dry clothes. Probably could have gotten indecent exposure on Clemson's campus, but thankfully it was eerily quiet on campus that night. After I change, I check my shorts pocket for my wallet. I have my keys and cellphone, but the obvious missing ingredient to my trip was my wallet. So I walk back to the trunk and check my jeans again, check my bag, check the back of the car, nothing. The freaking out didn't start quite yet. I search the inside of the car because maybe I threw my wallet into the front seat, something I've done before on many occasions. It's almost like I like looking for my wallet or something. A game of sorts. The wallet was not in the car, as far as I could tell. BUT, I did just buy a gatorade and the limited edition Orange and White BudLight cans that I just had to have and bring back to Tampa for future Clemson games, or a Wednesday. (actually, I don't drink during the week, but I wanted to throw that in there. Once again, I think I'm funny sometimes.) I get in the car, drive over to the Quik-E-Mart, drive past a number of DUI check-points, and that freaks me out even though my last beer was probably 8 hours earlier. Just knowing I had A beer makes me nervous. (digressing again.) Go into the store and immediately ask if I left my wallet there earlier, and the guys behind the counter said that they had not found a wallet. The freaking out is slowly creeping up my loins and into my finger tips at this point. I decide to go back to where I parked for the day and check the ground. I do that, and still nothing. Now the freaking out is at the apex of Mt. Rainier (for you -ette), and I start thinking about my 8 1/2 hour trip back to Tampa in the morning. I obviously need gas, gatorade, maybe even some lunch, but can't because 1)it'll be Sunday, so no banks are open to even try to get money 2)I don't have an ID, so I couldn't get money anyway. So what do I do? CALL MOM AND DAD!!! YAY! I never claimed to be smart. So now, not only am I freaking out, but now I have mom freaking out and dad trying to calm me and mom down while trying not to freak out for me. We're throwing out ideas, from calling my friend in Greenville who used to teach at Seton Hall to come give me money, to western union (I have no id to be able to do that.) In my freaking out state, I turn to the next best thing. I start cursing, unmercifully to my father for no real reason other than the freaking out. As I'm in my rant, I punch my cloth bag because that's what I should do. It's the bags fault for misplacing my wallet. But as I do this, my hand goes into my bag, and what's right on top???? As if it was playing a joke on me. I ripped through that bag on three separate occasions to try to find this thing, and here it was right on top, almost as if it were mocking me. Mom and Dad calmed down. My heart started beating at its normal rate and the night ended at Waffle House, where I was so excited about my "new" findings that I decided to pay. Even though the meal completely killed what I did earlier with the run on campus, it was the best "scattered, covered" hashbrowns I've ever eaten!

Wow! That was long. Sorry about that. Just thought I needed to share.