At Least I Gave Him A Nice Car
I had an odd dream the other night involving some folks from my curling club.
It started off like this: a bunch of us were staying at some fancy mansion north of New York for some kind of social event. I have no idea what the function was but it was a pretty decent party that went on on a Friday. On Saturday folks were departing to go here and there and wherever. Well, a guy I curl with and against on Saturday nights turns up at this mansion in full curling gear saying he's at the Douglas bonspiel at the Ardsley Curling Club (which was going on the weekend I had the dream) and someone on his team got hurt and he needed a player to fill in for the Saturday night game. Well, I was the only male around so he had to take me.
(When I told him about the dream, he said "So this is the point where it becomes a nightmare for me, right?" Anyone who has seen what I do on a curling sheet would understand that yes, that is true.)
So anyway the Mrs. and I agree to follow him from the mansion to Ardsley because he's got too much curling junk in his car. He pulls out of the driveway and he's driving a cherry red convertible, a really big old one with tail fins. I'd love to tell you what it was but I'm not a car guy so my subconscious probably just pulled up a .jpg of some vintage car I've seen in some parking lot someplace and filled it up with black curling bags.
So the Mrs. and I get in our car and follow this enormous red convertible down the highway when I realize we're going to have to get subs for our Saturday night game. As I'm dialing the cell phone I hear the Mrs. say "Oh shit". I look up and say "What now?" and she says "Some guy just got run over and killed and (name, let's just call him the Curling Accountant Whose Dad Was Once President Of The Club, that enough clues for you guys?) is pulling over to help. Annoyed I say "What the hell is he doing that for?" And then I woke up.
Upon telling this tale to CAWDWOPOTC, he said "People from Jersey help other people, not like you New Yorkers." I guess that's what you call the moral of this story, and its also a good enough place as any to end.
It started off like this: a bunch of us were staying at some fancy mansion north of New York for some kind of social event. I have no idea what the function was but it was a pretty decent party that went on on a Friday. On Saturday folks were departing to go here and there and wherever. Well, a guy I curl with and against on Saturday nights turns up at this mansion in full curling gear saying he's at the Douglas bonspiel at the Ardsley Curling Club (which was going on the weekend I had the dream) and someone on his team got hurt and he needed a player to fill in for the Saturday night game. Well, I was the only male around so he had to take me.
(When I told him about the dream, he said "So this is the point where it becomes a nightmare for me, right?" Anyone who has seen what I do on a curling sheet would understand that yes, that is true.)
So anyway the Mrs. and I agree to follow him from the mansion to Ardsley because he's got too much curling junk in his car. He pulls out of the driveway and he's driving a cherry red convertible, a really big old one with tail fins. I'd love to tell you what it was but I'm not a car guy so my subconscious probably just pulled up a .jpg of some vintage car I've seen in some parking lot someplace and filled it up with black curling bags.
So the Mrs. and I get in our car and follow this enormous red convertible down the highway when I realize we're going to have to get subs for our Saturday night game. As I'm dialing the cell phone I hear the Mrs. say "Oh shit". I look up and say "What now?" and she says "Some guy just got run over and killed and (name, let's just call him the Curling Accountant Whose Dad Was Once President Of The Club, that enough clues for you guys?) is pulling over to help. Annoyed I say "What the hell is he doing that for?" And then I woke up.
Upon telling this tale to CAWDWOPOTC, he said "People from Jersey help other people, not like you New Yorkers." I guess that's what you call the moral of this story, and its also a good enough place as any to end.
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