Have you ever had a day which was composed entirely of polar opposites?
I got up yesterday at 4 AM. It was our 4th Saturday of the month breakfast up at the Masonic Lodge I belong to. We usually feed between 80 to 120 people. Now you may think that sounds horrible to get up that early and work your butt off for six hours or so, but actually I enjoy it. Don’t get me wrong, the 4 AM part I’m not loving, but I enjoy all the kidding around, corny jokes, old worn-out stories, and just spending time with my friends, even though that during the summer months I am marooned outside by myself grilling up all the sausage and bacon. So to recount, 4 AM – Sucks, time with friends – Good!
After I get home and have lunch, I get cleaned-up and go get a massage from Jessie. Now you may say – oh massage – well la-de-freaking-da, but by the time I finish working at that breakfast my back is screaming at me. Jessie is an amazing therapist who I believe is quite capable of giving such a deep tissue massage that she can rub your chest from your back. So back pain – bad, massage good!
Last evening we had dinner with Chris and Liz Cody, two of the most delightful people on the planet. We ate at a place called Hillbilly Po’Boys and Oysters. It is okay, but not worthy of a do-over. I had a crawfish po’boy, and oyster nachos. Both were quite good, just a tad messy. I drank a hillbilly margarita, which was composed of moonshine, a splash of lime, and jalapeño syrup. He asked if I wanted to turn up the heat, which not being a big sissy, I said yes, so they gave me a level five, which completely and thoroughly opened up my sinuses – so pretty good! One problem with the place, other than a limited menu, is the noise. Not horrible, but if there is a large group who don’t understand the concept of inside voices, then you are screwed. Add to that the fact that the restaurant is sitting so close to the railroad tracks, that when two freight trains went by (at a good clip – might I add) you feel like you are getting sucked into a tornado. So that was fun! Just to be clear – this was the good part of the evening.
Next we went on the Oklahoma City Ghost Tour that our cultural director for the evening – Liz Cody – sat up for us. It started at 9 PM, so by then it was only 94 degrees, which for anyone who knows how much I like heat – awesome. Did I mention by the way that this was a walking tour of OKC? So our guide, a curious little fellow, who I am quite sure that this tour was the highlight of his existence on Earth, met all twenty-two of us. That is right; there were twenty-two of us, who paid money for this – some of which were from out of state! We started at the Skirvin and he told us the story of the ghost(s) that haunt the place. That was the one and only story about a ghost – yes you heard me right – the ghost tour featured only one ghost. The tour was mainly a history of OKC, which I will admit from time to time proved interesting. It would have been much more interesting as a PowerPoint slideshow held within an air-conditioned conference center with an open bar, but it alas was not.
So we took off on our hour and a half long death march through the blast furnace which constituted the concrete and asphalt corridors of Oklahoma City. Our guide beguiled us with one “interesting” story after another and never felt the need not to add his own humorous twist, no matter how much we pleaded. As though we did not feel stupid enough having paid money to be slow roasted and marched to our death, we stopped in the Myriad Gardens to “divine” for ghosts. You know what divining is? Normally you hear of people called “Water Witches” who do this sort of thing, but for water, not ghosts. We used two pieces of heavy wire bent in the shape of an “L” with a plastic handle on the small portion of the wire. The idea was that if any ghosts were hanging out next to the rhododendrons that you could ask them a yes or no question, and they would make the two wires cross, which is of course, as anyone knows, is the supernatural symbol for “Yes”. So get this picture, you have twenty-two grown ass people, sweating their butts off, all holding bent pieces of wire, walking around a perfectly manicured garden asking potential ghosts if they are the biggest suckers in the world!
The next part of this journey was I dare say one of the most amazing things I have ever seen in my life. Now bear in mind – when I say this – it means something, because I have seen some pretty whacked crap in my day. I can only compare what I am about to tell you to such things as the mindless followers of Reverend Jim Jones who all took their lives by drinking the Kool-Aid, the mythological mass suicide of the lemmings, or members of the Democratic party. There in the sweltering heat, huddled in the darkness of the Myriad Gardens, a group of people sat watching an hour and a half long video. You’re probably thinking that it must have been some monumental blockbuster movie or maybe a timeless masterpiece, but no my friend you would be wrong. Now before I tell you what I am about to tell you, I will admit that I did have a couple of drinks last night. However by the time I happened upon this spectacle, any alcohol had long been ripped through my pores by the torrent of sweating which had been brought on by the oppressive heat and relentless death march. So now that I have properly prepared you, I will reveal the subject matter of the documentary style film. Cats. That’s right, you heard me – Cats. These people were sitting in the convection oven we call the Myriad Gardens on a Saturday night watching an hour and a half long video of cats frolicking about. I shit you not! Now you probably think that there certainly could not have been more than a dozen or so people who were so crazed (certainly couldn’t be another twenty-two idiots in the world), but you would be so amazingly wrong that I doubt you will believe me. For you see, my friend, there were hundreds upon hundreds of people packed into that area. I thought that perhaps it was all a figment of my imagination brought on by the “legal” moonshine served at the restaurant and the mind numbingly oppressive heat. I had to stop three times to stop and stare in curious fascination at the sight of hundreds of people spending their Saturday night, sitting out in a blast furnace, watching a small kitten trying to escape the confines of an empty box of Frosted Flakes, that only moments earlier it had jumped into. As amazed as I was I am equally sure there were no doubt dozens of them who took notice of twenty two sweaty bastards walking around holding bent pieces of wires asking for a supernatural answer to their question about whether or not their geeked up ass would ever find true love.
The one saving grace of the entire death march was the fact I was afforded numerous opportunities to catch Liz’s eye (once again – the lady who thought this sounded like a fun idea) and plead for a quick but painless death. So in summation, dinner – good, company – excellent, Ghost Tour – sucked worse than the two hour town hall meeting/commercial held for Hilary Clinton recently on the oh-so-unbiased CNN. Oh there is one other saving grace that I should mention – next month it is my turn to plan our outing! Bru ha ha, Liz Cody – I say Bru ha ha!
