With the spouse working an ungodly amount of hours, summer break here and our half of the summer with our children, it’s been all responsibility and no adult time for weeks. So my parents took my kids for the weekend, his daughter stayed with friends and his adult son watched the dogs for us.
What did we do? Oh, we forgot that we’re not 21 anymore. We partied with friends Saturday night, then slept for a few hours before taking the three hour long drive to Michigan International Speedway. Tired and a little hungover I figured I could sleep in the car. Wrong. I just couldn’t get there with my head bouncing off the doorjamb and Pantera blaring at 20 billion jigawats!
Driving through three hours of rain, it wasn’t looking good for the race. I had checked the weather the day before and it called for rain in the morning, but it looked like there would be a race. Now, I wasn’t so sure and in the state I was in, my judgement definitely needed questioning
We huddled under a large umbrella and commenced taking in a little Hair of the Dog. Thanks to the rain gear and alcohol, we really didn’t care much that it was raining. We made friends with our neighbors, as we most often do tailgating at any NASCAR track.
The rain finally cleared and we made the nearly two mile walk to our spot in turn 4 of the infield. Sitting in the sun, I finally was able to doze of for awhile, despite the roar of the race cars.
My girlfriend, her husband and I took the nearly mile walk to the restrooms halfway through the race. On the way back, my attention span was that of a peanut. So much to look at, trying to see the cars, fatigue and a little intoxication I wouldn’t have noticed a freight train coming at me. So when I heard, “Look Out!” it was too late. I caught a football in my right breast.
My friends were worried. The football hit me hard. I kept walking and told the guy as he tried to apologize that I was fine. I grew up on a farm surrounded by boys and it wasn’t the first ball that hit me. It’s actually not the first ball to hit the chesticle either. By the time we got back to our seats, it really hurt. I took a water bottle from the cooler and tucked it inside my bathing suit. Truth was, dad may have taught me to be tough, but I was crying inside. My BOOB? REALLY? Not the ta taas!
I finally got some sleep, re-hydrated and I’m off and running today. I have to drop my dog off for x-rays, drive half an hour to get my kids then go clean a house. The chesticle still hurts a bit today but thankfully, I think the girls will be just fine.
But, I’m too damned old to party like it’s 1999 any more. My boobs just can’t take the heat!