Heels at Heart
As most of you should know by now, I travel with Christian every week. We have, like most travel
partners do, become like an old married couple. We bitch and complain about each other to no end. I bug him about being an
inconsiderate, ugly bastard who cant work, and with the exception of the cant work part thats pretty much accurate. He on
the other hand complains, with about the same level of accuracy, that Im a boring, ugly bastard, who cant work. On a few occasions
we actually agree and see eye to eye. Last weekend was one of those instances.
I think the problem lies in the fact
that we are both heels at heart. When we are alone we have no one to heel on but each other. When there is someone else to
aim or verbal venom at we jump on the chance to team up and be vicious heels. Last week whilst driving from St. Louis to Columbia,
MO we had such an opportunity.
Christian was driving and as we approach a mini van he looks at me and says, How do
you think they feel about Amy? I look up and see that the people in question have WE LOVE AMY painted on the back of their
van in large bold letters. There is a big pink heart, the whole nine yards. I look at Christian and reply, Ill go out on a
limb here and say their pretty fond of her. We chuckle to ourselves about the absurdity of painting such a message on your
vehicle, when Christian has the brainstorm, I wish we had a WE HATE AMY sign we could hold up.
Now that Christian has
put the ball in play, I grab it and head for the end zone. I had just pulled my booking sheet out to check for the name of
the building in Columbia so I say to Christian, Ive got my booking sheet and a Sharpie marker. Lets make the sign. I grab
my booking sheet, flip it over and pull out the sharpie. I write WE HATE AMY!! in large bold letters and tell Christian to
pull up beside them. Neither of us had a clue who Amy was but if they saw fit to boast their affection, we could not in good
conscience, as heels, pass up this opportunity to voice a contrary opinion.
Just as we are pulling up on them, Christian
hits the breaks and looks at me. What? I ask him. What if Amy is a local sick kid? he asks. Damn, even as heels we dont want
to heel on a sick kid, especially if these people are her parents and she is in ICU somewhere. At this point I notice there
is some writing on the side of the van as well. I tell Christian to pull up a bit, maybe there will say something on the side
like, Go for the Gold or something, which would give us a clue as to who Amy is. If shes a local athlete, the gloves are off.
Christian
pulls along side and I read, Nashville Starsvote for Amy. Theres no way shes a sick kid. Christian then remembers that he
flipped by Nashville Stars on TV last week. He tells me that its a Nashville Country Music show like American Idol. At this
point we both get a diabolical smile and Christian hits the gas as I put our sign up against my window. We hold steady beside
the van waiting for its two occupants to notice our sign. Finally the passenger turns our way and starts frantically pointing
our sign out to the driver. Christian hits the gas and pulls ahead as we both triumphantly laugh at our public display of
hatred for a person we dont even know.
Its amazing the lengths youll go to, on the road, to amuse yourselves.
Till
next week, dont vote for Amy. I want her doing a bigger job than Christian on I HEAT! Lance |
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