Good Morning Prophets of Profligacy,
Never being one to lavish praise upon my own head, I’m somewhat reluctant to unfold this small mishap. But given the events of this weekend I feel it’s relevant. While some of you, you know, the two or three of you reading this outrance know me to possess a keen eye for detail and carefully examine all options, when in reality my consequences are random at best. This was never more apparent than last weekend. We mountain folk had worked ourselves into a frothy’d frenzy that bordered on lunacy watching time crawl to the Bronco’s 6:30 start. You could witness “Tebow-ing” in every parking lot and restaurant in town! I even saw proud parents watch their prodigy(s) mimic “adults” and provide their own version. It was sad really. Never-the-less the excitement filled the air and all public places saw old and new jersey’s worn and “GO BRONCO’S!” replaced the typical “see you later” as if this would be enough to carry the day. Unfortunately, these people really did believe God would finish what young Tebow had started. In my 60 plus rotations I’ve never seen anything quite like it.
As you may have read over the last two weeks I enjoy making sport of this sort of blind and in this case misguided hero worship. Certainly if you’ve followed this forum for a while I take plenty of ribbing if not direct shots to the groin now and then, but I wasn’t prepared to be physically accosted for a minor ‘truth in jest’ comment directed at one of these morons.
I was at Appleby’s having lunch cashing in one of several gift cards received this Xmas, and as I always do sat at the small bar. It quickly got crowded so the bar became a 2nd option for seating and eventually made room for an older couple (older than me). I had finished my cardboard with sweet & sour sauce and was nursing an ice cold beer when Helen (wearing her #15 – ‘Jesus’ jersey) introduced herself by asking me if I had prayed for Timmy to have a good day. But before I could respond Helen launched into a stream of consciousness rambling about Tebow’s righteous example to our youth, his football prowess, and his eventual place in the “Ring of Fame.” It was clear her husband Frank didn’t share in her enthusiasm as he’d roll his eyes behind her so only I could see. I couldn’t help it. Frank’s rolling eyes and mocking hand gestures simulating her babbling caused me to blow beer out of my nose and onto Helen’s prized jersey! It was only a few drops and easily absorbed by a napkin but my continued chortling must have set her off.
I thought I’d lighten the moment with a comment about Tebow being God’s other son and would forgive such a minor indiscretion thinking we’d all get a good chuckle; I was mistaken! The syrupy sweet smile was immediately replaced by a loathing wish you were dead look, and got off her stool. Snagging her purse Helen blindsided me on the top of my head causing me to spill the half a beer onto the floor and broke the mug. “You smug son of a bitch” she screamed and took another swing at me only this time I was able to grab the purse and took it from her. This only served to further enrage her and in a flailing of her little fists she once again came at me. Frank and the Manager finally overcame their shock and came to my rescue. Frank in a bear-hug move grabbed his wife around the stomach and pulled her away still kicking and swinging at me. She finally calmed down and apologized to the Manager. However, upon their exit Helen turned around and flipped me the bird.
I happily waved goodbye