Why Birthdays are the Devil's Work (Part 85,594,678)

I spent the early morning hours with terrible intestinal distress, and that was the good part of the day. (Yeah, I know it's an over-share but you have to get the proper sense of mood.)

I got up early to get ready for the Boater Safety Class I signed up to take. While I was sipping tea and nibbling toast trying to soothe the savage beast residing in my gut, I get a call. Class moved to 11am due to Air Force Triathlon. I got up early for nothing? Curses on all early bird athletes!

But since they heard me (why can kids hear a flea bite a cat six rooms away when they want to, but manage to avoid hearing you yelling when you're standing 2 feet away?) the girls got up and started bickering right off the bat. It was so festive, if they could only carry a tune they could have done it in time to "Happy Birthday." In self defense I fled and went to a friend's garage sale. I treated myself to some of her junk since OPJ is always much more attractive than your own sorry junk.

After I got home, the kids roused themselves from their break (it's the answer to the age old paradox : if two kids bicker when no mom is around to hear, will there be sound? Answer: they don't bother wasting their breath.) and resumed the bicker-age. Although I had planned on canceling the boat class, why bother now that the water is going to be un-swimable shortly? I decided to go, just to get away for a couple hours. Two hours of Air Force style boat briefings later I reconsidered the wisdom of this choice. (Note- why do they call it a "brief"ing when it is ALWAYS excessively LOOOOOOOOOOOOOONG?)

Not all hope was lost though, we still got to go for a boat ride. (That part actually was BRIEF! Go figure.) Then all 12 of us had to take turns parallel parking an ancient pontoon boat. The first 8 people had it easy since at the height of the day the water was totally calm. By the time I stepped up to take a turn the instructor felt the need to re-demonstrate that it was in fact possible to park said boat in a typhoon whilst battling a wicked current as the tide came in. After failing twice he shrugged and said, "Close enough, you get the point. Next!")

Where I come from, scratching the paint on a boat is a felony crime punishable by death. Severe flogging is permissible only if the scratch is less than 3 mm long, AND the boat is older than 2 decades, AND the owner is too drunk to notice until you can deny the whole incident. The Air Force does not share this attitude, apparently. They want you to "kiss the dock" and "hold it tight" even if the metal is screaming and people are being knocked to their knees. Getting to within 6 inches and throwing a rope over the pole or just grabbing it are NOT acceptable and earn the captain another go. And another. And another. And another until 3 hours have passed, you are the same color as a well cooked lobster, sweat is dripping in rivers and you are ready to pass out from lack of food. Then, once the current and wind are at maximum velocity, it's your turn!

Yeah!

When you manage to park the boat in-spite of these obstacles the instructor will not furnish a passing card. Oh no! He will instead insist you demonstrate proficiency on the OTHER side of the dock. The one with the slip between the gasoline pump and the General's gorgeous new sailboat. After managing to park 4 times in-spite of all obstacles (try it from a 45 degree angle. How about a 15 degree one. How about 38.75 degrees? Yes? Well let's turn around and do it from the rear.) Turning a very old, over weighted pontoon in a small bay is like parking a semi in a bath tub. Not gonna fit and wrong on so many levels.

When you finally decide you'd rather become a professional skunk deodorizer than ever, ever, EVER drive another boat, and jump onto the dock and run screaming to your car swearing in three languages at the miscreant getting his kicks on torturing poor hapless victims, you will discover that you have a flat tire. Once said tire is replaced and you are limping home at the speed of an arthritic turtle some joker in a state cruiser will pull you over for going 28 in a 25MPH zone, EVEN THOUGH every other car is passing you.

I actually managed to remain calm throughout the insurance checking, the running of the tags, and every delay until the joker wished me a good day. At which point I went just a tad crazy. (Note to self--- cross "get shot with Tazer while resisting arrest and screaming obscenities at the top of your lungs" off the bucket list. Mission accomplished.)

Which is how I got a date with a really hot young cop on my birthday. Sure it's a hearing date to set bail, but a date is a date.

The devil's work I tell you. Thank the sweet Lord I have 365 more days before I have to face another one. In the meantime I'm going to bed at 3:00pm and waiting until tomorrow to get up.