Thursday, July 31, 2008
unscheduled vacation
Wow - these people in Southborough Mass really expect me to work. What the ? so i am taking a bit of blogcation this week (makes you wonder what the heck i was doing on the other 86 days that have a post, eh?). I'll be back posting on Monday...
Monday, July 28, 2008
Welcome to the doghouse
I am happy to report that after spending some quality time with a hair dryer, my phone is now working again. And even though I had to use my Visa for Friday’s edition of the NY Times, I otherwise had enough cash for all my trips to the Diet Coke machine.
Which left me free and clear to enjoy the weekend with my sisters and my mother. I think I may have mentioned that I was in a little trouble with my mother for missing my birthday. Here are just a FEW ways to tell that mom is upset with you:
Which left me free and clear to enjoy the weekend with my sisters and my mother. I think I may have mentioned that I was in a little trouble with my mother for missing my birthday. Here are just a FEW ways to tell that mom is upset with you:
- She tells you. Frequently. Well.…when she’s not telling Nicola how upset she is with you, that is.
- Your picture in her wallet has been replaced with this:
- Even Anne Louise is ahead of you in the “love game"
- Your brother tells you that “your stock with mom is looking a little Enron-ish"
- The silent treatment would be a reprieve
- She starts referring to Nicola as her youngest
And speaking of Nicola…it’s my Irish twin’s birthday today. Happy Birthday Nic.
Thursday, July 24, 2008
One of those weeks
So here I am in Southborough Mass and I forgot to get cash before I left. The good news is I found $30 in the shorts that came out of the wash so I had enough for whatever I needed at the airport that the drink coupons wouldn’t cover. (Y’know…it’s amazing that I manage to get myself dressed most days nevermind hop-scotching across the county.) When I went to the ATM on Monday morning…that ATM machine slurped up my debit card like it was the last bite of ice cream. Granted, it was a little warped from too many trips through the washing machine, but I got no “please enter your code”, no returned card…nada. Now I have to navigate the entire week in Southborough Mass on $16 cash. Which is hardly enough to cover the Diet Coke runs to the vending machines. And let’s not EVEN talk about shopping for my sister’s birthday present [you can have anything you want as long as it can be purchased with a Starbuck’s gift card]. I know I COULD go to a Bank of America branch and write a counter-check, but I can either spend my lunch-hour blogging or running errands. Enjoy the blog.
Then yesterday my phone quit working. I could say “suddenly” quit working, but only in the sense that it suddenly quit working after it decided to do the backstroke in my car cupholder. Lovely. When I say “savemethecall”…I really mean it. And while I still haven’t done one single thing about replacing that debit card, I was IMMEDIATELY on the (hotel) phone to AT&T to get a replacement phone. I was worried I may eventually have to answer the awkward question of why my broken phone smells like coffee…but I hoped to have my warranty replacement in hand by then.
Tech support took me through their scripted set of questions until we finally got to the meat of the issue:
“Do you see a dot at the base of the battery pad…what color is that dot?”
ummm, pinkish? [give me my replacement phone, dammit]
“It’s pinkish? Is that the color you see?”
Why yes, it looks pinkish. Why…do I win a prize? Does that tell you how to fix it? [give me my replacement phone, dammit]
“Ma’am, if that dot turns pink it means the phone has suffered liquid damage.”
Can you dig that? AT&T has obviously been burned by one too many people who have dropped their phones into a toilet. What exactly do you say to that? “Those damn kids, I a going to kill them”. How embarrassing. I am sure I am on some AT&T watch list now.
And THAT is why I haven’t called my mother this week.
Then yesterday my phone quit working. I could say “suddenly” quit working, but only in the sense that it suddenly quit working after it decided to do the backstroke in my car cupholder. Lovely. When I say “savemethecall”…I really mean it. And while I still haven’t done one single thing about replacing that debit card, I was IMMEDIATELY on the (hotel) phone to AT&T to get a replacement phone. I was worried I may eventually have to answer the awkward question of why my broken phone smells like coffee…but I hoped to have my warranty replacement in hand by then.
Tech support took me through their scripted set of questions until we finally got to the meat of the issue:
“Do you see a dot at the base of the battery pad…what color is that dot?”
ummm, pinkish? [give me my replacement phone, dammit]
“It’s pinkish? Is that the color you see?”
Why yes, it looks pinkish. Why…do I win a prize? Does that tell you how to fix it? [give me my replacement phone, dammit]
“Ma’am, if that dot turns pink it means the phone has suffered liquid damage.”
Can you dig that? AT&T has obviously been burned by one too many people who have dropped their phones into a toilet. What exactly do you say to that? “Those damn kids, I a going to kill them”. How embarrassing. I am sure I am on some AT&T watch list now.
And THAT is why I haven’t called my mother this week.
Wednesday, July 23, 2008
Your sister's birthday
The McSisters ride again. It’s Nicola's birthday this weekend and in true McConville fashion – I will be joining my mom and AL to celebrate the occasion. The invitation from my mother came wrapped as an ultimatum. “The pleasure of your company is cordially demanded at the birthday of your sister.” The birthday girl seems entirely indifferent to my attendance (“I don’t have to pick you up at the airport, do I?”) But mom seems rather EAGER to see me. See…it turns out mom was really expecting me to be in Nashville for MY birthday.
Which is why SHE was in Nashville.
After being gone in Ireland for 15 days.
When she would rather have been home.
But then I wasn’t there due to a misunderstanding [me misunderstanding how much trouble I was going to be in!]. Wow…THAT conversation was fun…I got three “awk Meave’s”, a “disappointed” and nary a mention of the birthday prizes that I am sure await me.
But my brother was in Nashville TOO – why couldn’t celebrating with HIM be adequate [well…for so many reasons…but none that a mother can admit] – What? He couldn’t make it either?? Was it because HE had to fly all the way across the country? No? He just had to drive a couple miles down the road in order to celebrate his birthday with his mother?? But he STILL couldn’t make it? I see. But at least he’s coming to Nicola’s b-day, RIGHT?
Which is why SHE was in Nashville.
After being gone in Ireland for 15 days.
When she would rather have been home.
But then I wasn’t there due to a misunderstanding [me misunderstanding how much trouble I was going to be in!]. Wow…THAT conversation was fun…I got three “awk Meave’s”, a “disappointed” and nary a mention of the birthday prizes that I am sure await me.
But my brother was in Nashville TOO – why couldn’t celebrating with HIM be adequate [well…for so many reasons…but none that a mother can admit] – What? He couldn’t make it either?? Was it because HE had to fly all the way across the country? No? He just had to drive a couple miles down the road in order to celebrate his birthday with his mother?? But he STILL couldn’t make it? I see. But at least he’s coming to Nicola’s b-day, RIGHT?
Monday, July 21, 2008
Moving, moving, moving
Dateline: Southborough Mass (don’t ask).
Well…all this garbage in my house is apparently NOT going to move itself. I guess the first step in executing any relocation is to get quotes from various moving companies. And where better to get information on people to entrust your entire worldly possessions to than on the internet???? Just a tip – when you click on “GET FREE MOVING QUOTES” your email address is automatically distributed to the 4,000 MOST reliable moving companies in the world. If anyone has trouble emailing me, it is because my mailbox is full.
I recognize that inventorying your things SHOULD be a count-your-blessings sort of exercise…but there’s something disheartening about completing said inventory with a guy making $5.85 an hour while calling himself your “move coordinator”. Listen “Freddie”.….if you want to provide that extra personal touch, you may want to quit calling me “Miss Mauve”. And if you ask me one more time if that’s “IT for that room??? Really??”, I am NOT going to pay you the buck seventy-five that you are going to quote me.
Once you finish the “room-inventories”, you get the “all-other” questions…
“Vacuum cleaner?” Nope
“Stereo?” Nope
“Lawn mower?” Nope
“No appliances of ANY kind????” Nope
“Let me guess…cinder blocks?” Very funny, #$%@$.
He sounded very apologetic when he explained that additional insurance coverage didn’t start below $30,000 and while “we would pretty much have to lose every single thing you own to warrant that level of coverage”, they still recommend it.
If anyone needs me I will be at the Pottery Barn trying to make myself feel better.
Well…all this garbage in my house is apparently NOT going to move itself. I guess the first step in executing any relocation is to get quotes from various moving companies. And where better to get information on people to entrust your entire worldly possessions to than on the internet???? Just a tip – when you click on “GET FREE MOVING QUOTES” your email address is automatically distributed to the 4,000 MOST reliable moving companies in the world. If anyone has trouble emailing me, it is because my mailbox is full.
I recognize that inventorying your things SHOULD be a count-your-blessings sort of exercise…but there’s something disheartening about completing said inventory with a guy making $5.85 an hour while calling himself your “move coordinator”. Listen “Freddie”.….if you want to provide that extra personal touch, you may want to quit calling me “Miss Mauve”. And if you ask me one more time if that’s “IT for that room??? Really??”, I am NOT going to pay you the buck seventy-five that you are going to quote me.
Once you finish the “room-inventories”, you get the “all-other” questions…
“Vacuum cleaner?” Nope
“Stereo?” Nope
“Lawn mower?” Nope
“No appliances of ANY kind????” Nope
“Let me guess…cinder blocks?” Very funny, #$%@$.
He sounded very apologetic when he explained that additional insurance coverage didn’t start below $30,000 and while “we would pretty much have to lose every single thing you own to warrant that level of coverage”, they still recommend it.
If anyone needs me I will be at the Pottery Barn trying to make myself feel better.
Friday, July 18, 2008
Baggage claim
I think if we each had to identify our worst behavior…baggage claim would most likely be involved. Something about paying $25 to wait an extra 30 minutes for your bag brings out the WORST in people. And listen...I understand that SIX generations of your family came out to meet your plane…but do they ALL have to stand in front of me at the baggage carousel? I still believe this is where the “C” boarding passes exact their revenge.
The scene earlier this week at the Philly baggage carousel takes the cake. It probably didn’t help that the plane left at 6:30 in the morning…which basically requires you to set your alarm clock for the day before. By the time you get to baggage claim you have been up for 6 ½ hours and are suffering from caffeine-induced hallucinations. Then on top of that, you are flying to Philly…how happy can you be about THAT?? (I mean you probably have a Ben Franklin costume in your future).
So we are all at the roulette wheel of baggage claim, packed three deep, jostling for position and throwing elbows when out in the front there rose such a clatter…I averted my eyes in hopes it won’t matter. Away to the back I flew like a flash, pulled over my luggage and ignored the big crash. [I mentioned being pumped full of caffeine, right?]
And then this lady (and not even a big lady, mind you), suddenly wheels around in my general direction and at the top of her lungs shouts at this little old lady and her husband “OH, SO EVERYONE IS JUST GOING TO PUSH ON THE PREGNANT LADY. THAT’S GREAT.”
Well…what the HELL do you say to THAT??? “don’t make eye contact, don’t make eye contact”. At which point, Mrs. Gabor turns right around to me and in this little Hungarian accent says…"I am wust a wittle old wady, I do not poosh. We still wook for our bag” [My Hungarian accent sounds suspiciously like Bugs Bunny]. Of course, all I could think of is “Who the &#%#^ am I…Judge Wapner? Who the hell crowned me king of baggage claim?”
Thank god the pregnant lady stomped off, because otherwise I was CERTAIN I was going to be in for a real-live American Gladiators battle. Fury vs. Helga.
The scene earlier this week at the Philly baggage carousel takes the cake. It probably didn’t help that the plane left at 6:30 in the morning…which basically requires you to set your alarm clock for the day before. By the time you get to baggage claim you have been up for 6 ½ hours and are suffering from caffeine-induced hallucinations. Then on top of that, you are flying to Philly…how happy can you be about THAT?? (I mean you probably have a Ben Franklin costume in your future).
So we are all at the roulette wheel of baggage claim, packed three deep, jostling for position and throwing elbows when out in the front there rose such a clatter…I averted my eyes in hopes it won’t matter. Away to the back I flew like a flash, pulled over my luggage and ignored the big crash. [I mentioned being pumped full of caffeine, right?]
And then this lady (and not even a big lady, mind you), suddenly wheels around in my general direction and at the top of her lungs shouts at this little old lady and her husband “OH, SO EVERYONE IS JUST GOING TO PUSH ON THE PREGNANT LADY. THAT’S GREAT.”
Well…what the HELL do you say to THAT??? “don’t make eye contact, don’t make eye contact”. At which point, Mrs. Gabor turns right around to me and in this little Hungarian accent says…"I am wust a wittle old wady, I do not poosh. We still wook for our bag” [My Hungarian accent sounds suspiciously like Bugs Bunny]. Of course, all I could think of is “Who the &#%#^ am I…Judge Wapner? Who the hell crowned me king of baggage claim?”
Thank god the pregnant lady stomped off, because otherwise I was CERTAIN I was going to be in for a real-live American Gladiators battle. Fury vs. Helga.
Thursday, July 17, 2008
Planes, trains...
Since I am staying in downtown Philly this week, I am taking the train to work each day. For some reason, navigating the purchase and use of my $400 plane ticket doesn’t freak me out NEARLY as much as my $7 train ride. But seeing as I have plenty of time to hang out in the downtown train station, here are some of the more interesting things I have seen:
- Not one, but THREE different people going to work dressed as Benjamin Franklin. I could NOT work in Philly…I fear the dress code.
- Each day, the same well-dressed lady claiming to be stranded after accidentally forgetting her purse at home. I only gave her money the first two days.
- The inspiration for The Fisher King.
- An air conditioning system from 1945…glad I packed the suit
- A weird caste system where social position seems directly correlated to days since last shower. (No speculation on where i fit in, please.)
- The strange feeling that I am riding in the bus again while all the cool kids drive to school.
- A Chinese grocery, three news stands, the last non-automated ticket booth in the country, approximately 215 ATMs and not. A single. Starbucks!!! And me with a gift card and everything.
- One nervous, tall accountant asking that “stranded” lady for directions. For a fiver.
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
All-day meeting
I’m in Philly to for a couple of all-day meetings. All-day meetings = all-day fun. And I am simply NOT the best participant in these things as my attention tends to wander. So here are MY accomplishments from yesterday’s all-day meeting
- Next year’s birthday list…(I do NOT take my birthday too seriously – I swear).
- I have soooooooooo mentally called my mother
- Today’s blog =)
- Tomorrow’s blog
- Another to-do list. (Actually, I just reordered my other three to-do lists…I feel much more productive now)
- Transcribing the first three stanza’s of the Brady Bunch theme. "All of them had hair of gold, like their mother". The Lord’s Prayer…I can’t remember. Verse 3 of the Brady Bunch theme? No problem.
- A disturbingly detailed listing of why I really, really don’t like one of my co-workers. [what do you MEAN that doesn’t count as tomorrow’s blog???]
- No resolution to the ethical dilemma of whether I can bill for this hour.
And the really bad thing is that it was MY meeting.
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
Monday, July 14, 2008
Maevearita
For those of you who think Maevearita is the latest trendy cocktail (a tall, yet sophisticated aperitif) …think again. Demonstrating why she is never allowed out of the house without Judy…Suzanne has volunteered to host the premier event in the Patiopalooza summer concert series. Okay, okay…the Maevearita Women’s Muzak Festival will be the ONLY event in the hosts’ bar-exam shortened ‘08 series – but that just means it will be all the more festive. Think of it as Bonaroo for the debt-set. Complete excess and still home by 10 p.m.
Originally, everyone promised to bring a tent and make a night of it…but I think we settled on taxi fare and staying til dark. Woodstock it ain’t. But any summer concert event that can be completely powered by a $99 karaoke machine PROMISES to be a good time…at least until everyone figures out that a) Sarah McLachlan is NOT going to be there and b) they’re missing a Titan’s preseason game.
So while Judy spent Sunday morning trying to un-volunteer for the event (and Lorri & Amy were counting their lucky stars for having dodged the party-at-your-house bullet), the rest of us were making plans for our Elvis medley.
Cooler-side seats will go quickly, so stayed tune for date and time details… well...assuming the promoters don’t run off with the $23 of sponsor money.
Originally, everyone promised to bring a tent and make a night of it…but I think we settled on taxi fare and staying til dark. Woodstock it ain’t. But any summer concert event that can be completely powered by a $99 karaoke machine PROMISES to be a good time…at least until everyone figures out that a) Sarah McLachlan is NOT going to be there and b) they’re missing a Titan’s preseason game.
So while Judy spent Sunday morning trying to un-volunteer for the event (and Lorri & Amy were counting their lucky stars for having dodged the party-at-your-house bullet), the rest of us were making plans for our Elvis medley.
Cooler-side seats will go quickly, so stayed tune for date and time details… well...assuming the promoters don’t run off with the $23 of sponsor money.
Friday, July 11, 2008
Where in the world is...
Just call me Waldo.
Since Rita’s arm is still on the mend, I volunteered to accompany her on her business trip Tuesday to Napa so I could get additional Southwest credits carry her bags (much to my disappointment, it really turned out to be a business trip). My boss DID note that I could always fall back on the bellhop thing if the accounting gig doesn’t work out. I’d rather my boss DIDN’T think of me in interchangeable terms of VP or bellhop.
While in the Oakland airport, I discovered a new pre-screening to the screening. Travelers can PICK which security line they enter…"Expert” traveler, “Frequent” traveler and “Casual” traveler. First of all, Expert should really NOT be self-declared, now should it? Secondly, “Casual” traveler is just a euphemism for too-stupid-to-read-the-many-instruction-signs. To illustrate, I am a “casual” chef.
I felt pretty confident that I belonged with my fellow experts…but I DID feel a certain amount of pressure. The LAST time I declared myself an expert was when I did my sister’s taxes and I can only begin to tell you how well that worked out [lien schmien]. Which may explain why I temporarily started acting like a Southwest “C” passenger. I mean…I KNEW I was trying to smuggle in the 12 oz can of Diet Coke, but c’mon – that rule against liquids doesn’t really mean WINE, does it??? You’re not even allowed GOOD wine? And I still don’t know where that cigarette lighter came from. Turns out, not only was I NOT an Expert, but I single-handedly raised the Homeland Security threat level to red. The only thing worse than being in the “casual” traveler line? Being in the “Watch list” traveler line. Strip search anyone?
Since Rita’s arm is still on the mend, I volunteered to accompany her on her business trip Tuesday to Napa so I could get additional Southwest credits carry her bags (much to my disappointment, it really turned out to be a business trip). My boss DID note that I could always fall back on the bellhop thing if the accounting gig doesn’t work out. I’d rather my boss DIDN’T think of me in interchangeable terms of VP or bellhop.
While in the Oakland airport, I discovered a new pre-screening to the screening. Travelers can PICK which security line they enter…"Expert” traveler, “Frequent” traveler and “Casual” traveler. First of all, Expert should really NOT be self-declared, now should it? Secondly, “Casual” traveler is just a euphemism for too-stupid-to-read-the-many-instruction-signs. To illustrate, I am a “casual” chef.
I felt pretty confident that I belonged with my fellow experts…but I DID feel a certain amount of pressure. The LAST time I declared myself an expert was when I did my sister’s taxes and I can only begin to tell you how well that worked out [lien schmien]. Which may explain why I temporarily started acting like a Southwest “C” passenger. I mean…I KNEW I was trying to smuggle in the 12 oz can of Diet Coke, but c’mon – that rule against liquids doesn’t really mean WINE, does it??? You’re not even allowed GOOD wine? And I still don’t know where that cigarette lighter came from. Turns out, not only was I NOT an Expert, but I single-handedly raised the Homeland Security threat level to red. The only thing worse than being in the “casual” traveler line? Being in the “Watch list” traveler line. Strip search anyone?
Thursday, July 10, 2008
Holiday weekend
You may have noticed I took a wee blog-break there for a couple of days (like six). If you were actually checking my blog everyday…let me just point out that you were. The. Only. Person. Working. over the holiday weekend (the holiday that…like Christmas…seems to start earlier each year. My 4th of July holiday started in mid-June). You would think that a long weekend with my sister, brother-in-law and nephew would provide all sorts of blog material….but I am having great difficulty rallying the brain cells. So I’ll just share the highlights of the weekend from my 14 year-old nephew.
- Going shopping with Aunt Rita (!) (watch out Auntie Nicola, GAME ON)
- Meeting his “Surf Diva” swim instructor…and the surf lesson wasn’t all bad either.
- The now infamous Ireesh suntan…he IS half McConville, after all.
- The crap-taking homeless lady visible right outside his passenger side window. [sorry about that son – it is California after all]
- His brand new tattoo (surely he’s told his blog-reading parents by NOW)
And why does Rita seem to have all SORTS of things she wants to blog about from the weekend!?!?
Wednesday, July 9, 2008
Birthday list
I forgot to mention that little vacation that this blog was going to take, didn’t I? I do that to my boss All. The. Time! But I am back on track now and just in time for a special BIRTHDAY edition. That’s right – it’s time for the top 10 things I want for my birthday…
- My money back on that skirt for Rio that I will never wear again.
- A day that doesn’t start on east coast time and finish on west coast time.
- The name of someone to replace the cleaning lady that fired Rita (and by Rita, I mean me).
- Confirmation that that is REALLY “happy birthday” Rita is saying in Italian.
- A permanent address. A single permanent address.
- Nothing. Really. Not a thing [but you can get Southwest drink coupons on the internet]
- Well, no one came through for Rio, so I’m still in the market for that new ass.
- A ticket out of the dog house for that innocent suitcase blog. World-wide-web, indeed.
- According to Rita…her presence is her present. Y’know…you’re right….that really isn’t all that funny.
- No offense brother…but my own birthday.
Wednesday, July 2, 2008
No Child Left Behind
Have you ever been in the airport gate when you look up from the 800 page book you can’t seem to finish to s-l-o-w-l-y realize that you were surrounded. by. children? On my flight to San Diego there were…no joke…53 kids on the flight. 53. Did I inadvertently sign up for the Disney Flight? HALF the passengers on the plane were under the age of 12!! Is that even statistically possible? Great…I have priority boarding on the Baby Talk Express. And it wasn’t even a direct flight to San Diego…I was going through Vegas! Is the Skippy John Jones convention ALWAYS the first week of July???
Now I don’t mind kids, but 53? I tried to volunteer for a bump (“No…I don’t mind being routed through Miami on the way to San Diego”), but no dice. Then I tried to trade my A16 in for a C boarding pass so I could see where all the little tykes settled before committing to a seat. The whole time I couldn’t help thinking “this is how Lord of the Flies started, isn’t it?”
The flight, of course, was a prison riot. It may have been a frequent flier ticket…but it.wasn’t.free, if you know what I mean. The jetway was littered with discarded strollers, the overhead compartments were jammed with skateboards. I seriously expected to be served a drink by a waitress in a Mickey costume. And for the first time EVER I was actively making eye contact with passengers looking for a seat – beseeching ANYONE outside child-bearing ages to take the seat beside me. As it was, the kid behind me made farting noises with his hands for the last 600 miles of the trip.
As if it wasn’t enough that a Pampers black market had broken out in row 23, the baby-walking traffic in the aisle was SERIOUSLY delaying my bailey’s and coffee [drink coupon]. If I hadn’t won the championship round of Hokey Pokey, the flight would have been a complete disaster.
Now I don’t mind kids, but 53? I tried to volunteer for a bump (“No…I don’t mind being routed through Miami on the way to San Diego”), but no dice. Then I tried to trade my A16 in for a C boarding pass so I could see where all the little tykes settled before committing to a seat. The whole time I couldn’t help thinking “this is how Lord of the Flies started, isn’t it?”
The flight, of course, was a prison riot. It may have been a frequent flier ticket…but it.wasn’t.free, if you know what I mean. The jetway was littered with discarded strollers, the overhead compartments were jammed with skateboards. I seriously expected to be served a drink by a waitress in a Mickey costume. And for the first time EVER I was actively making eye contact with passengers looking for a seat – beseeching ANYONE outside child-bearing ages to take the seat beside me. As it was, the kid behind me made farting noises with his hands for the last 600 miles of the trip.
As if it wasn’t enough that a Pampers black market had broken out in row 23, the baby-walking traffic in the aisle was SERIOUSLY delaying my bailey’s and coffee [drink coupon]. If I hadn’t won the championship round of Hokey Pokey, the flight would have been a complete disaster.
Tuesday, July 1, 2008
Tri swimming
In order to do a triathlon…one really SHOULD be able to swim. Since swimming comes first, it offers a life-threatening beginning to what would otherwise be just a workout. I am happy to report, however, that with the completion of Saturday’s event that I have now completed one race in a row without a water rescue.
I was a little nervous since I hadn’t been in the water since 2005 (the date of the aforementioned water rescue). I decided, however, that if I actually got into a pool prior to the race…I would realize how stupid this idea really was. Better to watch repeated highlights of Michael Phelps while mis-remembering some level of personal swimming competence.
Your start position for a race is generally assigned based on the estimated swim time that you include on your registration. In that way, they hope to limit the number of real swimmers who must literally swim OVER TOP of people like me. Now, I explained that this is a 350 yard swim, right? That’s a mere 7 laps in a pool. I may have been a tad conservative with my estimate of 14 minutes (!), especially with my sleek new aerodynamics (i.e., sans belly ring). The guy in front of me only had one arm and he still expected to finish in 13 minutes. It shouldn’t take me 14 minutes if I stopped for a beer in between each lap (which could not possibly make me any worse of a swimmer).
A 14 minute estimate? Hello contestant # 268! Which means 267 people started ahead of me and eleven people started behind me. Last before I even begin. I didn’t start the race until…oh…the day’s temperature had time to break 100 degrees. And what did those 11 people behind me put as an estimate...a week from Tuesday?
One thing about the swim portion of a triathlon race…tempers tend to flare when you are 1) racing after investing $7,000 in your bike 2) hostile to contestant # 268’s use of the doggy paddle as a legitimate swim stroke and 3) piled up like lemmings because of said doggy paddler…all while struggling to breathe normally. Let’s be honest…I have been at the epicenter of more multi-athlete pile-ups than I care to admit. All while yelling “didn’t anyone teach you the 3 second rule!?!?” – which tends to make me very popular with the other racers.
Remind me again why do I do these races. Oh yeah, because they’re fun. =)
I was a little nervous since I hadn’t been in the water since 2005 (the date of the aforementioned water rescue). I decided, however, that if I actually got into a pool prior to the race…I would realize how stupid this idea really was. Better to watch repeated highlights of Michael Phelps while mis-remembering some level of personal swimming competence.
Your start position for a race is generally assigned based on the estimated swim time that you include on your registration. In that way, they hope to limit the number of real swimmers who must literally swim OVER TOP of people like me. Now, I explained that this is a 350 yard swim, right? That’s a mere 7 laps in a pool. I may have been a tad conservative with my estimate of 14 minutes (!), especially with my sleek new aerodynamics (i.e., sans belly ring). The guy in front of me only had one arm and he still expected to finish in 13 minutes. It shouldn’t take me 14 minutes if I stopped for a beer in between each lap (which could not possibly make me any worse of a swimmer).
A 14 minute estimate? Hello contestant # 268! Which means 267 people started ahead of me and eleven people started behind me. Last before I even begin. I didn’t start the race until…oh…the day’s temperature had time to break 100 degrees. And what did those 11 people behind me put as an estimate...a week from Tuesday?
One thing about the swim portion of a triathlon race…tempers tend to flare when you are 1) racing after investing $7,000 in your bike 2) hostile to contestant # 268’s use of the doggy paddle as a legitimate swim stroke and 3) piled up like lemmings because of said doggy paddler…all while struggling to breathe normally. Let’s be honest…I have been at the epicenter of more multi-athlete pile-ups than I care to admit. All while yelling “didn’t anyone teach you the 3 second rule!?!?” – which tends to make me very popular with the other racers.
Remind me again why do I do these races. Oh yeah, because they’re fun. =)
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