What ‘The Tuck?’


Strike a Pose!

Ok man, Jimmy Fallon had this new pose on his show, and I just can’t let him scoop this from our managers. I have been seeing them do this one for years, and I even blogged about this one Christmas years ago. Of course, I didn’t have the name, ‘The Tuck, like The Tebow.’

I called it, “the hand-clasp,bow-stance.”  Except, unlike the football exercise, to celebrate victory, this was the mock humility which comes from a superior, approaching us to reprimand us about something absurd.

I will never forget this incident, as I came up with a whole song in my head, as it was unfolding and a guy that I was working with was rolling in laughter as I started singing it to him, on the flight. He asked for my blog so he could read the post later.

I will try to recall events, to the best of my  knowledge, as this was a blog which has been abandoned and I was so fond of that post. I still remember the supervisor. Our manager’s have the best, “Tuck, which, as I said earlier, are the first, to receive the credit, well that is, after the Asian culture. I would also like to add that in the Asian culture, it is a bow out of authentic respect. In my example, it is only to reprimand, as sort of, submissive appearance.

Here’s the story; I had been wearing a Christmas sweater. It was Christmas.We were told we could wear a ‘tasteful holiday sweater.

A manager approached me in a hall a few days before Christmas. She grabbed her hands in anxiety and did the classic ‘hand-clasp,bow-stance, or ‘The Tuck,’ as it now football jargon. She began, in trembling voice, “I would be remiss if I did not speak to you.” I looked at her, waiting for her to say something very important. She spoke again, “I would be so remiss, if I didn’t speak to you right now!” She said it again. “Wow!” I thought. “This has got to be important! She stood to the side, with her hands wringing. And she said it, once more for effect, “I would be sooo, remiss, if I did not speak to you!” She said. “Oh, ok.” I said.

Now, she looked so serious, I waited, and she said, “Do you have a uniform sweater in your bag?” At this point, I thought I was going to burst out laughing, because, I was beginning to sing a little rap in my head. “We wish you a very remissmas, We wish you a very remissmas!” When she said this, I was totally caught off guard. “Ah, yes, I do. And by the way, I wasn’t wearing one of those, horrible, Jimmy Fallon, Christmas sweater’s either. It was plain black with red trim.

So, at this point, it came out of my mouth. I said, “Merry Remissmas!” I turned and went into my briefing with my crew members.I said, “Hey, I should get a picture of myself in my sweater and say Merry Remissmas to you! and send it to her.   This whole scene was hilarious and when I saw Jimmy Fallon doing this new pose, I had to say, there’s nothing new about this. I’ve seen it many times. And it is the best. But, the NFL tries to claim it, forget it man, it should have been trademarked by manager’s long ago!

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Up on My Roof


That's a chip off the block!

I was watching the video of my daughter’s birth with her a few days ago, and wondered where all the time has gone.

My daughter is now 24, and my son is 13. He was laughing at the whole video. As she has become the exact opposite of what I’d seen in her youth. She was extremely shy and afraid of any attention. My son is completely different.

Yes, my daughter was literally afraid of her own shadow. I still laugh as I recount the story; she was pointing at the ground and screaming as she kept running away from something. I thought it was a bug. I grabbed her into my arms, and she kept pointing as I tried to set her down again. She screamed and lifted her feet. As I finally realized, it was her shadow, which terrified her. I said, “That’s your shadow, honey. Look.” And I tried to show her my own, and how it moved with my body and the sun. She was crying, as she pointed and yelled, “No tadow! No!” I just couldn’t stop laughing as I thought, I truly have a ‘scaredy cat’ on my hands.

I told her, I had the same problem, when I was very young. I was extremely shy. I had a teacher write to my mother, on one report card, that I was a good student, but I was very shy. I assumed it was because of all the trauma I had experienced in my young life, already. It wasn’t until 7th grade, that I really started to come out of my shell.

I assured my daughter that one day this would happen for her as well. But, she now, sometimes, I wish she would stay in it!

The other day, I was just returning from an early doctors appointment. A little irritated with my daughter, as she hadn’t come home until about 3am. She works late, and hangs out with her friends sometimes. Yes, I know, she’s 24, but she still lives in my house. And I always had the belief, when you’re in your parents home, you abide by their rules.

As I began to drive up to my house, I looked up, and much to my surprise, I saw someone on my roof. “Wait,” I thought. “I do have a contractor coming over.” Then as I tried to make sense the thought process, was as follows; I don’t remember telling him to come over. I just said, to call me. I don’t know what he’d be doing on my roof, as my work is kitchen related. And why is my daughter up there with him?”

Ok, I didn’t even make it into the driveway, as I realized, this is my daughter and a guy she knows. Someone whom, I’ve never met. And as she was trying to scootch down, she realized, she’s busted. The guy was sitting with a cigarette in his hand, and he was clearly scared.

I stopped, car running, as I wasn’t even in my parking place, and stepped out, as I said, “what the hell, are you doing on my roof?!” Yes, I was mad, and I said, “Both of you get down here right now!”

I was fuming. I waited at the foot of my stairs at what seemed to take a while. I yelled again, “Get down here! Both of you!”It was obvious, they were scrambling to get a story together.

They both come down, and I say, “Could you please tell me who you are, and what you’re doing on my roof, besides, smoking?” The guy looked pretty young. But he was very cute. He had a muscular build and was extremely polite. He took off the baseball cap he was wearing and said, “I’m so sorry maam. My name is Mike.” “No!” I continued, “There’s no shaking! You tell me what you’re doing in my house and up on my roof!”

“Yes, maam. Your daughter picked me up this morning. I meant to introduce myself, but you weren’t home. ” “Oh, really? So do you just skip the introductions and go right up to a persons roof?” “No maam,” he said. “It was very disrespectful.” He then placed his hat on his head, and removed it again. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t put my hat on.” I thought how humorous this was, in spite of how angry I was at the time. He was more worried about having his hat on, and showing disrespect, than the way we actually met each other.

“Listen,” I said. “I blame my daughter, more than you. Most decent people come to the door, to meet each other. ” “Yes, maam. but it was my fault. I asked to go up there.” “Yes, but my daughter knows that this isn’t acceptable. ”

Now my daughter said, “mom, I need to drop him off at home. ” “Oh no you don’t!” I said. I’ll be the one dropping him off!” I told them both to get into the car. As I continued my rant. The guy was trying desperately to find favor. I assumed he saw my ring, with the Superman logo on it. As he pointed to his arm and said, “Mam, I just got this tatoo.” It was a huge ‘S,’ on his bicep. My daughter told me later, she wished she could tell him to shutup, as she knows, I hate tattoos. Then he continued, “I’m going into the military, mam. I’m hoping to get into the Special Forces.” “Oh, really?” Well, you won’t make Special Forces, if you keep pulling stunts like this.” Then I turned to my daughter, “Why don’t you do that?” “Oh no mam. You don’t want her to do join the military.” “Yes, I think it would be a good idea,” I said.

Then I end up dropping him off at his mother’s complex. But before going through the security gate, he says, “You can just drop me off right here. I can jump over the wall.” “What in the world?” I said, Haven’t you ever heard of a front door?”

He laughed as he put his hand out, one more time to shake and apologized, over and over again. This time I shook his hand, and told him to stay out of trouble. “Yes, maam,” he said.

I questioned my daughter about this all the way home. “He’s just a friend.” She said. He’s only 19, and he just celebrated his birthday. I talked to him this morning, and he asked to come hang out. I went to pick him up and wasn’t sure where you were or when you were getting home. But I knew you’d be home soon. I just didn’t think we’d be up there when you got home. “Yea, well it would have been just as bad to see the guy parading out of your room!” I said.

Then, as if it would buffet my anger, she said. I don’t know if you ever heard of it, but he’s into ‘parkore.‘ That’s where they jump off roofs and stuff. So when he saw ours, he said, “Oh, that is so cool. Can I go up there?” I told him he could, but knew if you came home and saw us,you’d be mad. “Yes, I am! You should have told him to go jump off someone elses roof!” I said.

“Why wouldn’t I be angry?” I said. “First of all, it’s outside your bedroom. Secondly, I’ve never met the guy. And lastly, he’s smoking. Not to mention the liability. However, I was impressed with his polite manner,” I said. He sure seemed to have better manners than that last douche you went out with.” And I had to think about it. That guy made a point of coming over to meet me and was very nervous about it. As I began to ask him questions, I realized I didn’t care for him, since our first meeting. Even though it seemed he was going through all the motions of the polite, meeting the mother, routine. As I analyzed some of the responses to the questions, I thought, he seemed shady. As it turned out, I was spot on, in my assessment.

My mom used to refer to these kind of guys as, Eddie Haskell’s. You remember the guy from Leave It To Beaver. He acted as sickeningly sweet, and would turn around and bully Beaver, as soon as Mrs. Cleaver left the room. I still remember her words, upon meeting friends of ours, “He/She’s nothing but an Eddie Haskell!” Since most of my friends, were pastor’s kids, she was usually right.

Yet, this guy in all of his silliness, seemed funny and rather innocent. Even though he was trespassing on my roof. In his mind it was a perfectly normal experience.

“Mom, I’m not interested in this guy. He’s only a friend.He’s way too young and I met him through my other friends. He came here from Arizona and wanted to visit his friends.

I went up to her room with her to continue my speech. I can’t even say, I sounded like my own mother, as my mother never set any rules in our home. As I looked around her room, I realized was a mess it was. “I asked, how could you let anyone into this room?” “Well,” she answered, that’s how you know I’m not interested in the guy.”

“You need to get your own place and then you can sit on your roof all you want.” I said. “I know. My girlfriend and I were just talking about that last night.” Well, on second thought,” I said. “I can just rent out a part of the roof. You can pitch a tent there. And I can rent out your bedroom. Tell your friend, Mike, that I can rent him a space too. Since he seems like a drifter. Then the song came to me. And it was written by, The Drifters. Up on the Roof. Hmm, how appropriate, I thought.

As I started thinking about it, I realized. It’s not a half-bad, idea. AS I shared the story with a woman at work, she laughed so hard, she was nearly crying. “Oh, I don’t think it’s so bad.” She said. Then I was sharing with some others and it was funny to me, to see how the men, always mentioned the potential liability, and the women always found it humorous. Which makes me think, there were a whole lot of girls, who have done things like this. They seemed to be reaching back into the archives for flashbacks.

Then I called my daughter later. She had spread the story to all of her friends. I’m somewhat of an urban legend, among her friends. What with the last guy, and this latest incident. She told me her friend Emily, has always been afraid of me. And now as she shared the story, she said, her eyes opened wide and she said, “Wow, your mom’s really scary!” My daughter said, “Well, you know how they talk about dad’s with their daughters? My mom is 10 times worse!”

I cracked up about this. Then I thought, “Am I overreacting?” But I had a brief stint living with my father, when I was a young adult. But it was accepted, his house, his rules. Adult or not.

I spoke with my son later, and said, “Hey, I found a guy sitting with your sister on the roof this morning.” “Who was he?” he asked. “I have no idea,” I said. And then I thought about it, as my anger subsided. I laughed as I said to my daughter. Hey, I’ve been single for years, and was so concerned about bringing a guy over to the house. But I’ve never done this, let alone invited him to sit on the roof with me. Maybe, I’m just jealous!” We both laughed at that.

Embracing My Inner Cheese


Welcome to Milwaukee!

I just went back to Milwaukee. It’s where I was born and raised. I appreciate it more, each time I visit.

Who wouldn’t love this place? The staple food’s are, cheese, brats, and let’s not forget….beer. It’s the place where the field trips are to the museums, festival’s and breweries.

I didn’t appreciate it so much, until I’ve gotten older, and seen more of the world. I felt I was stifled, in a sense. When I first moved away and started my flying career, I was always met with, “Are you from Wisconsin?” Not so strong an accent anymore. But what touched me more than this, was the response, “Oh, people from Wisconsin are so nice!” I have found that this is true. When I go back, I’m aware of the difference in culture. The people are so approachable, and are more than happy to help others.

Of course, my irritations, in my younger years, has been replaced by a feeling of endearment. I was envious of cities, with current fashions. Since Milwaukee seemed to be about 4 years, behind the curve. The fashion hasn’t changed one bit, since I was a teenager. Which means, you don’t have to spend a lot on clothing. It’s a standard pair of jeans, a flannel shirt, and boots, or sh**kickers) as we used to call them.

I seemed to be an alien, as I would not abide by those dictates. I had my own style and refused to be bound by the opinions of my peers. I still remember a friend, who had given me a pair of his camouflaged pants from the military. I wore these with a red turtleneck to Oktoberfest, in LaCrosse. The streets were littered with beer, paper cups and a mob of college students. The sneers of the girls told me, I was not following the rules. I didn’t care. I loved it, that I seemed an alien from another planet.

I hated it when I would tell people where I was from and they would say, “Oh, you have a lot of cows there, don’t you?” I never saw cows, unless, I went into a town. It’s not as if Milwaukee was a big farm. Yet, this is the impression that most people had.

I worked downtown and it was a city, like any other. I loved the feel of this city. In fact, when I did finally visit my friend, who had moved from Milwaukee to New York, she said, “It’s like a big, downtown.” She was right. New York, felt exactly like our downtown, only bigger. And, as I said, they actually had the latest fashions, displayed in their storefront windows.

But, still, I couldn’t help but laugh, when I walked through the General Mitchell Field Airport, and saw the souvenirs. One t-shirt, “Nothing tips like a cow,” with a cow, lying on its back.  I bought it for my daughter, as she’s in the service industry. She thought this so funny and said, her friends, are going to crack up when they see it.

The truth is; I never saw anyone tip a cow. I didn’t even hear of any friends doing it, until I had a trip down to Ormond Beach, Florida. We were visiting a friend. Her brother was going out with his friends, to tip cows. They asked if we wanted to go, cow tipping. I didn’t believe it at first. I sure was too afraid to do that, and thought it was pretty mean. Now, I’m not a vegan or anything. And I don’t mind eating burgers, but come on. The poor things are asleep and they get knocked over. I secretly hoped that a bull was standing nearby to give them a run for their money.

I seemed to notice new things all around me, which I’d never seen before. I loved the old blue, fire/police call boxes. I had to get a picture. my cousin told me that these are being stolen. “What? Who can steal something this big?”

When I was a kid, we heard that if you pulled one of these, a dye would cover your hand, which could only be detected with a black light. In my neighborhood, they were constantly going off. I can only wonder, what in the world, anyone would do with one of these, in their home. Probably use it for a clothing rack, like I do my treadmill.

I was talking with a guy who used to coach my son’s baseball team, yesterday. He’s a firefighter. “Hey, I said, I have a picture with one of those old call boxes, for the fire department. I showed him, the picture, with the blue box. He then pulled up a picture on his phone. There he was standing with two other guys, next to a red one. “This one is from Boston,” he said. My buddies are also, firefighter’s, and when we go somewhere, and we see them, we pose next to it.” I laughed, that I thought I was the only one who noticed these antiques. Now I’m wondering if he has one in his house as well. Being used as a coat rack or something.

Now one of my favorite things, in Milwaukee, is Leinenkugel. I actually put a bunch in my suitcase once, just to ship back to myself. I can’t find these, where I live. I remembered, having a trip to Germany and going to a beer garden. I had a banana beer, which was pretty good. I went straight from there to Milwaukee, where I visited the state fair. I had marveled at the strong German influence. It seemed I never left Germany. I had a Leinenkugel for the first time, in Milwaukee, and have loved them ever since. They have, berry, lemon, and wheat. I love the flavored ones. As I was sharing this with my friend, he said, “Oh, I have a lifetime supply.” “What?” I was asking how I could become a member. “Oh, I won this.” He said. But you have to go to the Leinenkugel Lodge, to get them.” “Wait a minute. There’s a lodge for Leinekugel Members?” “Yea, he said, it’s in Chippewa Falls.” Geesh! “Only in Wisconsin.

Now I realize, why my daughter made the remark when she was very young. “All people in Wisconsin do in the winter, is stay in the house, smoke and drink beer.” I laughed so hard at that statement, as this was the impression she had, and it wasn’t too far off.

Now, I don’t mean to brag, (Bragging Jackass), but gotta love them Packers! Come on. Undefeated? They continue to shock and awe. No one plays like they do, and the fans are the best.

I went to a real Milwaukee bar, on Saturday night. My cousins friend was celebrating his birthday, and there were a bunch of Harley’s out front. I was amused to see the middle-aged biker’s all over place. But, they knew I was a transplant. They could tell that I’d lost a little cheesie-ness. Some big people live in Wisconsin. I attribute this to all the dairy and beer. As I looked around, the guy had a ton of food and they’re not embarrassed to pig out. I got to watch the Badger’s play, and they got ripped off, at the end of the game. Coming from behind to tie it up, only to have a bad call in the end. Hey, that’s my opinion after watching the replays. The bar went crazy. “This is the life,” I thought. In a bar in Milwaukee, surrounded by biker’s, watching the Badger’s game. The only thing I could have asked for is that they would have gotten that call right. Because we all know, Wisconsin won.

My cousin complains about the girls being to big. But hey, they have to keep warm in the winter. Besides, my cousin, isn’t very small himself. At one point, he pointed out his picture window and said, “Hey, there goes a Milwaukee hot guy!” The guy was huge, with a flannel shirt, jeans and his sh**kicker’s.

The bars, have something for everyone. Dry Hootch, is a place on my list. They are ready to welcome all the soldiers back from war. Brady Street, is where all the action is. And on a trip to Milwaukee, these are my old stomping grounds.

I watched the Occupy Milwaukee march, with pride. The whole movement had its inception with Wisconsin and Ohio. My people, are always ready to fight the powers. I still have that in me. The friendly people of the Midwest, have a true fighting spirit, when you back them into a corner. It’s a toughness, developed by the hard-work ethic, and tempered by the spirit of empathy.

As I share my experiences with my children, I always remind them, that they are not, cheeseheads, in the true sense of the word. But they are, processed cheese. And mixed with my stepchildren, we are now more of a blended cheese. They have the cheese inside, and it’s not something you can ignore.

I have finally arrived at a place in my life, where I am proud to be part of The Cheesehead Nation. I understand why my mom, keeps saying, “I want to go back to Wisconsin.” Dorothy was right, “There’s No Place Like Home!”

Back to Work Program, Hire A Mascot!


Ok, come on, Miami?! Seriously? The new Marlin Baseball stadium, seems to have all the bells and whistles, but what Oh my gaudy! What in the world is going on with this new ‘art’ in the middle?  Is this to attract people? Already, people are weighing in, with negative comments. This is ridiculous. It is a huge, display of neon, in an attempt to dazzle. Some have compared it to pinball machines, Vegas, etc. You get the picture.The only thing that was missing, was the neon pink flamingo’s. I suppose, to have gotten the opinions of the public, potential fans, would have been out of the question?

Not buying it. And evidently, neither is anyone else. It was designed to be a nice attraction. But, for the price of 2.5 million? Why couldn’t we put a dent in the deficit? Better yet, why not poll the public for ideas first? Oh no. That sounds like an argument I have about my union, at work. Heaven forbid, you really have to listen, to ideas from people whose interests you should represent. That would negate all those nice bucks your shoving into your own pockets.

Oh, I didn’t just diss my union, did I? Well, let’s move on. We have OWS, to handle this. And by the time we’re through, we just may have some better ideas, including the implementation for stadiums, which would cut down on the spending considerably. And I have no doubt, offer a lot more fun.

Now, I don’t want to brag,(Bragging Jackass), but, how about looking at ‘all things Wisconsin, for your marketing strategies? No, we are just common folks, but let’s compare. Milwaukee Brewers. Hmmm, when there’s a home run, Bernie the Brewer, slides down a slide. We all get to watch on the screen, and some of us, can see him. If you’re close enough. Oh, that doesn’t sound cool? I guarantee, after a couple of beers, and getting all hyped up for your team, it’s astounding!

Now, you absolutely, have not lived, until you’ve seen, the sausage race. That’s right, people. It is a highlight. I actually got to go down to the field, the day of the race, with my brother and my son. They loved it. Talk about, audience engagement.

There is a story, I still recall, about one of the Brewer’s taking a swipe at a sausage, as they came around the bend. Come to find out, it was a young girl inside, the costume, and the Brewer, was in some boiling hot, sausage brew, after the game.

Ah, those poor, mascots. It always made me think, that they should, indeed, have a union, to protect them. Kind of the bun, if you will, to keep them cushioned from the blows.

And let’s not mention those Packers! We are the only culture, who are not afraid to don the cheesehead! Now, it only seems to make sense, that these teams, and the people, should be followed. If it’s been working for us, for all these years, jump on the bandwagon.

And let’s not forget, all the people that we can use, by the use of these mascots, and not an inanimate object, cluttering up the field. I think we should have a marlin, manatee, shark, race. There, that’s three people, with a job offer, already. And I’m betting this could be a highly prestigious position. Replace, all the celebrities, of this world, with mascots. Perhaps they could name them, such as they did, Bernie. I’m thinking, Merlin the Marlin. I know, I know, we already have a Billy. But Merlin, has a nice ring to it.

 When you are in your social circles, and people ask, “Hey what do you do?” And you respond, “Well, I’m Merlin the Marlin! It would be instant recognition. Like, Cher. No explanation needed. Asking for autograph’s and pictures. All the marketing. Just think about it. Believe me, these people will remember you long after, Kim Kardashian!

I’m not into anything fancy. Just a good time. And isn’t that all that we want, when we come to a game? What do you think?

 

Help! I’m talking and I Can’t Shut Up!


Yesterday, I took my son and my brother to watch the Miami Dolphins train, at their training facility.My brother absolutely loves, football, although, to him, the Green Bay Packers, are the only one that really count.My brother, reminds all of us of, Dustin Hoffman’s character, Rain Man. Though, he is not autistic, he is mentally challenged, and when he’s stuck on something, it doesn’t change.

So it was extremely, surprising when, even he, despised, Brett Favre, when he left the Packers. Yes, his idol, Brett, became the enemy. After all, he was playing for the Vikings, in the end, and everyone knows, that you don’t go against the Packers! I wondered, “What in the world would he do, if Brett Favre, ends up as a Quarterback, for the Dolphins?” As I heard this rumor.

It has been years, and I still try to convince my brother, to be a fan of the Florida teams. And he loves to watch sports, no matter, who’s playing, but if they’re up against any Wisconsin team, it’s an automatic; Florida’s going down.Each year, he tells us “the Packers are going to the Superbowl.” And most of the time, he’s right. Although, on the rare occasion, that they’re not in it, he switches teams, back and forth, with whichever one is winning.To him, the opposite team is always called, “The Eagles.” No offense guys, but my brother, somehow has learned that your name is synonymous with, Losers. Don’t blame me, I even sent him on a trip to Philadelphia, to watch a game, and he is still, not going to let you off the hook. He was must have been conditioned, by a mob of Packer loving, Eagle haters. So someone else is to blame.

He has no shame in his game,and everyone laughs, as he goes right up to the TV screen, and does his animated, thumbs down! I enjoy watching, him, way more than the game. I know how much he loves being a part of something, which involves, a team.

So, I thought, “hey, these two are going to love watching the Dolphins train. When they see the camera’s on the news, and all the die-hard fans, who come to watch them, they’ll be inspired.

The training camp is right near me, so it’s really a fun thing to do. The last time we were here, was a few years ago, and it was pouring down rain. So we had to leave. I still managed to get some good pictures of my son and brother, with some of the players. But that’s about all we did.

Today, it was 89 degrees, and of course, all of us forgot the sunscreen. I usually have it in my car, but had just cleaned out my car. So this is not good. I decided to bring my little, pink umbrella to shield us from the sun.Of course, I knew, I would have to put it down, when they began to play.Well, as the sweat was already dripping down my back into my shorts, I said to my son, “I look like a wet my pants already!” I’m thinking, I’m already soaked, and they are only in practice.

A woman came over to tell me I would need to close the umbrella, until I told her I had intended to keep it open, only until the game began. She agreed, that this would be fine. She probably saw, that my brother’s bald head, unprotected, would be like a red beacon, which would be far more distracting than my pink umbrella. My face and that of my son, so fair, probably gave her compassion. “Oh, that’s fine, as long as you close it when they are ready to play.” Oh, those small kindnesses. I reprimanded my brother, once more, about his failure to remember his hat. And this would have been a perfect time to wear, his autographed, Packers cap. He almost gave it away at my last yard sale, and I was incredulous. “How could you put this in the pile?” I asked him. Here I find myself, being a total contradiction. I try to teach him to let go of things, and now I’m questioning why he would give that up? The autographs are very difficult to read anyway, but all I could surmise, is that Brett Favre’s, name is on it somewhere.

My son was asking for a ‘lemonade ice,’ before we even sat down. And at $4 a pop, this was going to be their first and their last one. I told him to “make it last.But I’m feeling sorry, that we are sitting here, because it is hotter than I imagined, and already, I’m thinking, there’s no way, we are staying for the whole game.

As the game is about to start, I close my umbrella. All of a sudden, I feel the presence of someone behind me, and I feel him bend forward. Right in between my son and me. Already so hot, I can feel his breath as he speaks, “Hey, is that Reggie Bush?” He asks me. “I really don’t know.” I tell him. Truth be told, the only one I know, is Jason Taylor.Every woman’s crush.

I have the team roster, but it’s really not accurate. As this guy, starts to talk, I realize one thing. “He is about to start a ramble session, like I’ve never heard in my whole life.He begins to tell us that he has been in the presence of such great people. Not just the Dolphins,but many Hollywood stars. He’s been in the movie, with Tom Cruise. On and on he goes. Everything he speaks, seems disjointed. In my mind, I’m trying to analyze, how he connected from one subject to another. Though it didn’t take long to see, he had a strong desire, to prove, he was important, by association. On and on he rambled. As my son stated, later, “There wasn’t even a period, in his sentence!” I was impressed, that my son had even noticed, this ‘run-on sentence,’ as grammatical error.

I have listened, as I’m trying to watch the players.”Oh, they’re just like real people,” he says. Which makes me laugh. I thought they were real people. But no matter, this guy does not need any encouragement from me.He continues, that he had encounter’s with one of the players, at a restaraunt, when he was dining with his family. “His wife was pregnant,” he said, and she was like this.” He makes a gesture,to show the girth of her stomach. As if I didn’t know what pregnant, really meant. All I could imagine, is this poor guy, with his family, having to be accosted, by Greg’s mouth. I wonder if the guy had a chance to eat.

He literally does not take a breath, and then he tells me that, his mother is an actress, and she’s always given him, one word, of advice. (Hmm, this ought to be good), She tells me, “Greg, if I give you any advice, it’s this,” LISTEN!” She says. Oh, my gosh! It’s obvious that he has not!  Poor mom, must be going insane, and I can only imagine, that Word, came in a shout!

Then he continues, “You have to know when to talk, and when to be quiet.” Is this a joke? I’m thinking. Am I on one of those shows, “What Would You Do?” Cause in my mind, I’m saying, “Shut Up!” But, I actually feel sorry for him. I’m starting to think, he’s mentally challenged, like my brother. Surely, no one can have a problem like this, unless they have something wrong. Or perhaps he’s on drugs. But no, he has a history. As he tells me about living with his mom and the way she speaks to him, I’ve gathered, with my investigative skills, that he is much closer to the Rain Man, character, than my brother is.

Then he continues talking about the movie he was just in, with Tom Cruise. Then the most amazing thing; He starts imitating, Rain Man. My son, finally turns around and starts cracking up. He starts to engage him, with the banter, since they both know all the parts of this movie. And they speak in unison, “Of course, Judge Wopner, at one clock!” I’m laughing at this. My brother loves the movie as well. I always wonder, if he is able to perceive himself, as this person. At any rate, Greg, should really think of auditioning for this part in community theater. He’d certainly be a natural!

I finally realized that I’m clearly not going to see any of this game, and we’re on so uncomfortably hot, it isn’t worth it. I declare, “It’s time to go.” My son’s relief was  clearly evident, and he almost seem to convey, “What took so long?” We stood up, and I say to Greg, who claims to know everyone, “Put in the good word for me, with Jason Taylor.” “Oh!” He says, “I will, but how do I get in touch with you?” Oh no you don’t, I’m thinking, even, if any of this was true, and at the risk, of losing, my connection to JayTay, I’m not giving up any of that info!

After returning to the car, my son, who usually is the one talking, said, finally, “What was wrong with that guy?  I couldn’t watch anything, cause jabber-jaws, was in my ear the whole time!” I know, I admitted, I think he’s mentally challenged.” “No, he’s not.” My son was not convinced, as he was comparing him to my brother. But I had to point out, not everyone has the same, mental disorder.

“I think it was because he was hitting on you!” He said, making it clear, that it was my fault, as usual. I just hope, my son got a clear picture, of this. And he learned a very important lesson; when your mother gives you advice, “Take It!”