Had a few random run-ins over the past few days that seemed funny enough to write about...
Those of you who have ever been in the Riverwind poker room know how crowded it is. For those who don't, I'll try to explain it.
The casino did a pretty good job of putting the poker room in an enclosed area, away from most of the cigarette smoke and noises of the slots and music. It's got lots of TVs and the dealers are pretty good. It's the perfect size for a 12-table room. Unfortunately, they crammed 17 tables in there. It's so tight that there are really no aisles between the tables; anyone coming or going inevitably puts a knee in the back of someone's chair as they pass by.
Last weekend they had me in one of the worst seats in the entire room. I was in the corner seat near the "aisle" at one of the front tables, which means that anyone going to any table on my half of the room had to go by me. That's about 45 people, and I got to enjoy a knee to my back every time any one of them went by.
Actually, a knee to the back is the best-case scenario. God forbid you ever want to eat or drink anything at the table. The guy next to me had an iced tea on a tray between our seats. Someone came by and knocked it all over his lap, partially onto his cell phone, and all over the floor. Fun.
Against my better judgment, I decided to take part in "60-cent wing night" at the casino. The same tea-stained gentleman next to me and I decided to split a dozen wings.
The ending to this story is pretty obvious. Before we even got them, I asked the table how long it would take for someone to knock them onto the ground, and sure enough someone knocked them onto the ground. Some of the sauce got on my jacket but we were otherwise unscathed.
The guy who did it was pretty funny. He took out his wallet and half-heartedly offered to buy us more wings. I told him not to worry about it, and he said "Thanks bro" and was out the door in about three seconds flat.
That night, the floor got a better meal than we did. Iced tea and wings...not bad!
The next day I went to Walgreens to fill a prescription. While I was standing in line at the pharmacy, I hear the following cell phone conversation behind me.
"No, I don't think they'll give me unemployment. They already warned me about it and then I did it again so they fired me."
I did the slow turn-around where you act like you're looking at the top of Aisle 14 but you're really trying to check out the lady who doesn't feel the need to use her inside voice while talking about getting fired. There was instant recognition. I've never seen this chick in my life, yet I've seen her a thousand times. You know, the ones who never shut up and think everyone cares about their lives as much as they do. And most of them look similar to this one, with the multi-colored hair, over-the-top lipstick and outfit that looks like it was put together by fourth graders in arts and crafts class. Pretty much looked like the actress from "Criminal Minds."
I don't know where she was working or what she did to get fired. From that job, anyway. After a brief pause, she continued.
"No, I think it's the same thing that happened when I worked at Hertz. At Hertz I kept not showing up for work, so they warned me and put it in my file. Then I didn't show up some more, so they fired me. And they used that file to deny my unemployment."
Who knew? Companies prefer it when you show up for work? Good thing this lady was standing right behind me at Walgreens, otherwise I wouldn't have been privy to this crucial inside information...
On Monday it was so beautiful outside that I decided last-second to take Addison to the zoo. While she was playing at the playground, a lady approached me and asked about my hat. I could spot the crazy from a mile away.
I have several Major League Baseball hats from a variety of teams, and on this day I was wearing my Philadelphia Phillies hat. I'm not a Phillies fan, but my favorite NFL team is the Philadelphia Eagles. So here's our conversation.
Crazy chick: Hey! Is that a Phillies hat?
Me: Yeah.
Crazy chick: So are you a Steelers fan?
(This really doesn't make any sense at all. The Pittsburgh Steelers are in a different city and a different sport, but I guess being in the same state is all that counts).
Me: No, I'm actually an Eagles fan.
Crazy chick, shouting to her husband: Rob! We can't talk to this guy! He's an Eagles fan!
Me, thinking to myself: OK, too bad. I understand. See you later!
Crazy chick, talking to me now: Have you ever been to a game there?
Me: Yeah, it was pretty cool.
Crazy chick: I lived there for seven years. Did you go to a game when it was the Eagles playing against the Steelers?
Me: No, but I bet that would be a lot of fun.
Crazy chick: Um, no it wouldn't! Did you hear where a couple of years ago there was an Eagles fan who shot a Steelers fan? It's crazy!! One time my family came over and all the Steelers fans were in the living room and all the Eagles fans stayed in the kitchen!
(I'm starting to envision a scenario where an Eagles fan shoots a Steelers fan...)
Crazy chick: So, aren't the Eagles not having a very good year so far?
Me: Well, the season ended four months ago, but the Eagles didn't make the playoffs so, yeah, it wasn't a very good year so far.
Crazy chick: So that really is a Phillies hat?
Me: Addie! Let's go look at the elephants!!
Monday, April 16, 2012
Saturday, April 7, 2012
Press Box Shenanigans
I read something in Sports Illustrated the other day that had me absolutely cracking up for about 15 minutes.
It was about a soccer game in Europe, where a guy got knocked unconscious and, it turns out, cracked a couple of vertebrae in his neck or something. Evidently, the referee suspected that he was faking the injury, so he gave the guy a yellow card.
The player wasn't paralyzed or anything, but he was still unconscious and paramedics had to cart him off the field. That didn't stop the referee from doing his due diligence. Because the player had received a yellow card earlier in the match, the referee -- while this guy is being carted off the field -- gave the player a red card, which means he is ejected from the match.
Maybe it's just me and my weird sense of humor, but that story was just so ridiculous that I couldn't quit laughing, picturing the referee seriously giving a red card to an unconscious player on a cart.
That story reminded me of my own run-in with a referee, so it seems like a good excuse to re-tell it. Besides, my fellow Riverwind poker players (holla!) have been quite supportive of my blog lately, and they've probably never heard this story. So here goes.
I've pretty much been doing journalism my whole life. My first job, when I was 16, was doing sports stories for the old Moore American newspaper. It was a free weekly paper that was choc full of errors and probably not worth lining your bird cage with, but they paid me $10/hour and it was a pretty good experience for an aspiring sportswriter. (Does anyone know if that paper still exists, or has it been swallowed up by the Norman Transcript?)
Anyway, based on my clear mastery of the English language and complete grasp of the Westmoore High School sports universe, I got hired to do public address announcing for junior high and junior varsity football games in Moore.
It was a fun job, and I was basically just flying by the seat of my pants. It's not like they gave me any training or instruction whatsoever. They just handed me a mic and told me to announce the down, distance, and whatever happened on the previous play.
Sometimes my friend Kevin would go to the games with me and help me spot who made the tackle and what yard-line the ball was on, etc. The first few weeks I tried to be professional and whatnot, but a junior high game we did one night changed everything.
As always, we went down on the field before the game to get the rosters for both teams. Well, this night, one coach said, "I didn't bring one. Just make up the names. I don't care."
Of course, Kev and I went to town. We made up names for everyone on the team and used them over the PA throughout the game. We used a wide array of names, from celebrities (this was the 1990s, so I think Vanilla Ice was playing QB), to NFL players (Barry Sanders at RB), to the classic adolescent laugh-getters (starting at receiver, Ceymour Butts).
Nobody complained, and it was a heckuva a lot more fun than doing the job right.
My favorite games to work were the Westmoore JV games, because I was a junior at Westmoore and the team consisted of all my friends. Also, we had a really good JV football team which I think went undefeated.
One night, I was doing a JV game and we were beating the tar out of another hapless foe. I started taking a few liberties with the mic. "That's yet another touchdown for the mighty Jaguars." "Matt Fallwell slices through the defense like they're not even there." "Incomplete pass for Del City. What a shame." And so forth.
Late in the game, we had scored a TD to make the score 49-0, which was punctuated by another obnoxious call from the PA announcer. On the ensuing kickoff, Del City returned it for a touchdown but there was a penalty which negated the score. This was the call from the booth.
"Ohhhhh! The 15 Del City fans still in attendance are in a state of shock as their only chance to score has been wiped out by an illegal block in the back."
Then the ref threw another flag. I said, "It looks like there's another penalty on the play," and the ref starts pointing up at the press box, right at me actually. He signaled unsportsmanlike conduct on us and marked off 15 yards. I got a penalty from the press box!
On cue, one of our principals stormed into the booth and literally ripped the microphone plug from the wall, leaving me holding the useless stub. I was a little relieved to see our coaches in the next booth cracking up.
Fortunately, all my friends on the football team thought it was hilarious too. I was worried they might not be too pleased that a guy who never played a down of football in his life cost them 15 yards, but I guess the 49-0 score mitigated that.
To this day, I like to think that I'm the only person who's ever gotten penalized from the press box.
Somehow, my shenanigans didn't even end up costing me my job. I got lectured in the principal's office at school the next day and forced to sit in the booth at a varsity game so I could learn from the old fart who did the PA at those. I cleaned up my act after that, but it wasn't nearly as much fun.
It was about a soccer game in Europe, where a guy got knocked unconscious and, it turns out, cracked a couple of vertebrae in his neck or something. Evidently, the referee suspected that he was faking the injury, so he gave the guy a yellow card.
The player wasn't paralyzed or anything, but he was still unconscious and paramedics had to cart him off the field. That didn't stop the referee from doing his due diligence. Because the player had received a yellow card earlier in the match, the referee -- while this guy is being carted off the field -- gave the player a red card, which means he is ejected from the match.
Maybe it's just me and my weird sense of humor, but that story was just so ridiculous that I couldn't quit laughing, picturing the referee seriously giving a red card to an unconscious player on a cart.
That story reminded me of my own run-in with a referee, so it seems like a good excuse to re-tell it. Besides, my fellow Riverwind poker players (holla!) have been quite supportive of my blog lately, and they've probably never heard this story. So here goes.
I've pretty much been doing journalism my whole life. My first job, when I was 16, was doing sports stories for the old Moore American newspaper. It was a free weekly paper that was choc full of errors and probably not worth lining your bird cage with, but they paid me $10/hour and it was a pretty good experience for an aspiring sportswriter. (Does anyone know if that paper still exists, or has it been swallowed up by the Norman Transcript?)
Anyway, based on my clear mastery of the English language and complete grasp of the Westmoore High School sports universe, I got hired to do public address announcing for junior high and junior varsity football games in Moore.
It was a fun job, and I was basically just flying by the seat of my pants. It's not like they gave me any training or instruction whatsoever. They just handed me a mic and told me to announce the down, distance, and whatever happened on the previous play.
Sometimes my friend Kevin would go to the games with me and help me spot who made the tackle and what yard-line the ball was on, etc. The first few weeks I tried to be professional and whatnot, but a junior high game we did one night changed everything.
As always, we went down on the field before the game to get the rosters for both teams. Well, this night, one coach said, "I didn't bring one. Just make up the names. I don't care."
Of course, Kev and I went to town. We made up names for everyone on the team and used them over the PA throughout the game. We used a wide array of names, from celebrities (this was the 1990s, so I think Vanilla Ice was playing QB), to NFL players (Barry Sanders at RB), to the classic adolescent laugh-getters (starting at receiver, Ceymour Butts).
Nobody complained, and it was a heckuva a lot more fun than doing the job right.
My favorite games to work were the Westmoore JV games, because I was a junior at Westmoore and the team consisted of all my friends. Also, we had a really good JV football team which I think went undefeated.
One night, I was doing a JV game and we were beating the tar out of another hapless foe. I started taking a few liberties with the mic. "That's yet another touchdown for the mighty Jaguars." "Matt Fallwell slices through the defense like they're not even there." "Incomplete pass for Del City. What a shame." And so forth.
Late in the game, we had scored a TD to make the score 49-0, which was punctuated by another obnoxious call from the PA announcer. On the ensuing kickoff, Del City returned it for a touchdown but there was a penalty which negated the score. This was the call from the booth.
"Ohhhhh! The 15 Del City fans still in attendance are in a state of shock as their only chance to score has been wiped out by an illegal block in the back."
Then the ref threw another flag. I said, "It looks like there's another penalty on the play," and the ref starts pointing up at the press box, right at me actually. He signaled unsportsmanlike conduct on us and marked off 15 yards. I got a penalty from the press box!
On cue, one of our principals stormed into the booth and literally ripped the microphone plug from the wall, leaving me holding the useless stub. I was a little relieved to see our coaches in the next booth cracking up.
Fortunately, all my friends on the football team thought it was hilarious too. I was worried they might not be too pleased that a guy who never played a down of football in his life cost them 15 yards, but I guess the 49-0 score mitigated that.
To this day, I like to think that I'm the only person who's ever gotten penalized from the press box.
Somehow, my shenanigans didn't even end up costing me my job. I got lectured in the principal's office at school the next day and forced to sit in the booth at a varsity game so I could learn from the old fart who did the PA at those. I cleaned up my act after that, but it wasn't nearly as much fun.
Tuesday, April 3, 2012
Chick-Fil-Eh?
I have to start by saying I think Chick-Fil-A is by far the best-run fast-food restaurant in the world.
Despite the fact that the restaurant is always packed to the gills, it's clean, the employees are very friendly and the service is fast and generally accurate.
Today, the drive-thru line was wrapped all the way around the restaurant and the inside was totally full, and we were all the way through it with our correct order in 9 minutes.
I don't necessarily think they have the best food on the planet, but Addison certainly does so we eat there quite often.
Today, a couple of funny things happened that inspired this brief blog.
As we pulled in to the franchise on I-240 and Western, Addie said, "What does that sign say?" I said, "Chick-Fil-A." She said, "Then why is it a picture of a girl?"
I looked up and realized that she was asking about the sign for the gentleman's club right next door.
I doubt it was Chick-Fil-A's preference to be directly next to a strip club, and I'm sure I wasn't the first parent who had to point out an airplane in the sky so his daughter would forget about the strip club she just asked about. On the other hand, it sure hasn't seemed to hurt Chick-Fil-A's business, and it's probably "enchanced" the bottom line at the gentleman's club as well.
As we waited in the drive-thru, I noticed that the restaurant had a dude whose job was to carry an umbrella and walk people to and from their cars, for it was raining rather heavily. Just another example of Chick-Fil-A going the extra mile for its customers.
I did find it quite humorous, however, when I saw the dude standing by the driver's door of an SUV, waiting for the driver to get out. Out of the passenger's door came a lady who was about 7 months pregnant, and she stumbled around the car getting soaked before making to the driver's side. This umbrella dude either never saw her or just ignored her, because he waited while the chick's body-building husband got out of the driver's seat. Then he put the umbrella over that guy and walked him to the front while the preggo lady walked next to them getting wet.
Despite the fact that the restaurant is always packed to the gills, it's clean, the employees are very friendly and the service is fast and generally accurate.
Today, the drive-thru line was wrapped all the way around the restaurant and the inside was totally full, and we were all the way through it with our correct order in 9 minutes.
I don't necessarily think they have the best food on the planet, but Addison certainly does so we eat there quite often.
Today, a couple of funny things happened that inspired this brief blog.
As we pulled in to the franchise on I-240 and Western, Addie said, "What does that sign say?" I said, "Chick-Fil-A." She said, "Then why is it a picture of a girl?"
I looked up and realized that she was asking about the sign for the gentleman's club right next door.
I doubt it was Chick-Fil-A's preference to be directly next to a strip club, and I'm sure I wasn't the first parent who had to point out an airplane in the sky so his daughter would forget about the strip club she just asked about. On the other hand, it sure hasn't seemed to hurt Chick-Fil-A's business, and it's probably "enchanced" the bottom line at the gentleman's club as well.
As we waited in the drive-thru, I noticed that the restaurant had a dude whose job was to carry an umbrella and walk people to and from their cars, for it was raining rather heavily. Just another example of Chick-Fil-A going the extra mile for its customers.
I did find it quite humorous, however, when I saw the dude standing by the driver's door of an SUV, waiting for the driver to get out. Out of the passenger's door came a lady who was about 7 months pregnant, and she stumbled around the car getting soaked before making to the driver's side. This umbrella dude either never saw her or just ignored her, because he waited while the chick's body-building husband got out of the driver's seat. Then he put the umbrella over that guy and walked him to the front while the preggo lady walked next to them getting wet.
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