Making an Idiot Out of Myself

You would think after my running out of gas experience 13 months ago, I would have learned my lesson. That would make too much sense though. I first had trouble…

I had a few things I wanted to accomplish on the first Sunday of December. I had a few errands to run, a meeting to attend, and I wanted to take a nap before the Ravens and Steelers played that evening.

But it would all start with a trip to church in the morning. I had a good feeling as we braved the cold and jumped in the car. That good feeling lasted less than a few minutes.

We neared the intersection of Middle and York streets when the car sputtered. I had no inkling anything was wrong. I cranked and cranked the ignition with no positive results. This was not how I envisioned my day going.

Things started out pretty well last Wednesday. Maria and I both got moving a little earlier than usual. Before I knew it, I was all ready to leave for work 10 minutes before usual.

I putzed around the house a little any way. My iPod wasn’t going to load itself. Regardless, I strolled out the door at about the usual time with no real reason to rush. This was the first nice day after all the rain, so I got all my stuff inside the car and headed for work.

Or so I thought. After a block or two – and this is after making on left-hand turn – I heard some kind of weird noise. I checked the cover for the sunroof first. Sometimes I don’t pull that completely shut, and it rattles. But that wasn’t the problem.

I looked over at the passenger seat. I had driven with co-workers to meetings the two previous days, so I wondered if the seat belt got tangled and was bouncing against something. Or maybe they left something in the seat that was rattling. No dice there either. Then I heard a small thud, a roll and one more strange sound.

Before I had a chance to even look in my driver’s side mirror, I knew what had happened. I looked back and prayed that no one would run over my travel mug as it bounced along the road side, spreading hot coffee along Baer Avenue.

When I started pledging a fraternity during my freshman year of college, the older guys in the house did all kinds of things to scare the other pledges and me.

They told us about all kinds of horrible things that would happen to us. They really scared a few guys.

I pretty much took it all in stride and gained the respect of the older guys – who never followed through on any of their threats because it was all a game – with one great decision.

I called their bluff.

I learned all of this growing up with four older brothers. Sometimes, it’s easier to be made fun of for not doing something well than it is to be made fun of for not even trying at all.

That lesson echoed in my head the other day at a special picnic we had at work. There were lots of activities, including a climbing wall.

When I first saw the wall, I decided I wouldn’t even go near it. We had the same kind of wall at a similar event a few years ago, and I tried it then.

I had everything planned out for a fun Wednesday night. My friend James would meet me at work, and we would go down to Washington to see a D.C. United soccer game.

We planned to leave at 6 p.m., which allowed me to get some extra work done without feeling like I was abandoning my family because they already knew I was abandoning them for the evening.

So I worked up until about 15 minutes before James was arriving. I went into the men’s room in my building so I could change out of my work clothes and put on shorts and my soccer jersey for the game. That’s when I came to a horrible realization.

I forgot my shoes.

Because of my background as an athlete, I try to tough it out sometimes. I also think I get this trait because of my four older brothers. While growing up, I had to learn that calling for Mom’s help too soon might get me more noogies than I had originally anticipated.

Regardless, I tend to not complain much about physical ailments. That contributed a lot to me waiting so long before getting my heart and cholesterol level checked out earlier this fall.

In the end, the tests showed that I was just being a big baby worrying about my heart, but I did have to start paying attention to my cholesterol.

I knew this day would come. Some of my siblings have this problem. A lot of other people do. I didn’t expect to be spared. So now I take a pill each night.

But I didn’t expect one pill each night to make me feel so old. It’s not the side effects or anything. I just feel old having to take care of a serious condition before I turn 40.

This is where my usual non-complaining gene kicks in. I know others have it a lot worse than I do, and I should be happy that I know about the problem sooner rather than later.

Still I felt old. And stupid. At least after the first night I got the medication.

As I approach the end of my 37th year, I have had an epiphany. I finally realize my true calling. I exist to give people something to laugh at.

Don’t mistake this for a pity party. I’m pretty excited actually. I have slowly come to grips with my ability to make a fool out of myself.

My moment of clarity came 10 days ago when I fell down Federal Hill in Baltimore.

I didn’t actually fall as much as I careened down the top slope of the downtown landmark. Somehow, I got it in my head that I could race a friend to the bottom.

Luckily, she realized the folly of that idea and had a wonderful view from the top as I hurtled out of control to my fate.

Did I mention that all this took place during a department retreat for work and the friends witnessing this exhibition were my co-workers? I sure know how to spice up the day.