September 5, 2009

Fact is Better: Naked Triathletes Probably Love Gelato

Last weekend the gelato company that I work for was a vender at a triathlon. My boss asked me to be at the park (it was this beautiful state park on the ocean) at 10:30, since the first rush of people was expected at 11 or so.

That seems normal enough, right?

My life, however, doesn’t work that way.

Me: *10:25, and I’m turning onto the road for the park, but cops have set up barricade*
Cop: “Where you going, ma’am?”
Me: “I’m one of the vendors. I’m with Gelato Fiasco.”
Cop: “You’re late.”
Me: “. . . Um, excuse me?”
Cop: “You’re late. The other two gelato people are already here.”
Me: “Right, I know that. I need to get to them.”
Cop: “Well, you can drive down there, but the race has already started and the biker’s have the right of way. So if you drive down there, there’s a good chance you’ll probably hit a biker and kill them, at which point I’d have to arrest you for manslaughter.”
Me: “ . . . okay.”
Cop: “So, you can drive down the road, but if you see a biker you’ll have to drive off into a ditch and wreck your car . . .”
Me: “ . . .to avoid the manslaughter bit . . .”
Cop: “ . . . right, or you can park your car and walk down.”
Me: “What would you do?”
Cop: “I’d park and walk.”
Me: “How far a walk is it?”
Cop: “Meh, something like two miles.”
Me: “Two miles?”
Cop: *grinning* “Enjoy your hike, ma’am.”

So, I park my car and begin the walk down. I text my boss:
Me: “I’m gonna be late. The cops are making me walk.”
Gelato Boss: “Too bad you don’t have a bike.”
Me: “ . . . laughing at the expense of my pedestrianism is unacceptable. I might just hijack a bike. No rules against that.”
Gelato Boss: “Throw a stick in their tires and get down here.”

After about a mile, I call a friend.
Me: “It’s the third day of my new job and I’m hiking through a forest on a beautiful day while half naked, gorgeous men bike past me, and at the end of this walk is a giant cart full of ice cream. Could it get any better?”
The Tall Actor: “I don’t have to read next week’s blog then, ‘cause you’re obviously gonna write about this.”
Me: “Yes. I. Am. It’s like the universe was giving me naked triathletes who probably love gelato on a golden blogging platter.”
Friend: “Go you.”
Me: “Go me, indeed.”

True story.

Further proof that fact is better than fiction.