Sunday Funday (part 2)

Brushing off the red sand from my shoes this morning, I had a great hypothesis about life. It doesn’t stop. It just keeps on going. Our destiny: watch it pass by or hold on and enjoy the ride. I always say, “I’ll get to this or that when my life slows down,” but does that ever really happen? Even more, do I want it to happen?

We left for Moab early Friday morning to go the Moab Halloween Bike Fest. Willy (featured in the previous post), has a satellite radio, which he uses only for playing rap and country. I told him how much I hated both of those types of “music.” He said that when I drove I could pick the channel, so on my section of the road it was pure disco. I hate disco. So does Willy. But I put up with it just to spite him. HA!

Friday night was a huge mountain bike jump contest, which consisted of testosterone and red bull propelling these guys off a 20 foot dirt jump. Willy did a 360. It was extreme…no radical…no totally radical to the extreme.

Saturday my undeserving ass pedaled a fancy-pants mountain bike up the side of a rock to watch more testosterone/red bull driven madness of extreme cliff jumping.

Apparently Willy is known in the sport as “Swilly Willy the Drunken Master.” The water bottle on his bike contained vodka and pineapple juice. I forgot my costume for the Halloween party that night, so I had to come up with a quick fix. I used a bit of black eye makeup on my left eye to make it look like I had a shiner. Then gathered a wife beater and an empty bottle of Jim Beam. For the final touch, I put Willy’s bike helmet under the wife beater to make me look like I was pregnant. Wa-La!!! I was transformed into “the Drunken Master’s girlfriend.” I thought it was pretty funny and slightly ironic because I was the DD.

And even more ironic was how I watched guys go off dirt jumps and cliffs all weekend and not a one of them got hurt. But at the party, some idiot dressed up as an 80’s butt rocker fell off the hand railing and dislocated his knee. It was entertaining to watch him squirm around in his red fish net tights with his knee cap protruding through his strategically ripped stone washed jeans.

I got back today with just enough time to finish a paper that was due and then cram for a mid term. As I was sitting in the library at school, one my professors asked, “How was your weekend.”

“Oh! It was fantastic. I went to Moab and didn’t want to come home!”

“Yes,” he said with a gentle nod, ”but you only appreciate those fun times when you also have to work hard and go to school. Everything must be in balance.”

Dammit. There goes that silly hypothesis of mine.