The dangers of slo-mo replays

I'm the first to tell you that I can dish it but can't take it. I do not like being the target of a prank or joke--- especially if there is more than one person in on it. But this one was good and played out much better than the pranker ever expected.



Last fall, I was at a very big college football game when I got a text from my friend, Michael.

*I just saw you on TV.*

I was pumped. I told my Dad and my Uncle that we had, despite our sub prime seats, been included in the shots of the crowd.

They both responded with the same question- "how did they get us all the way up here?"

"I don't know- the sky cam? They can do anything these days! I am not sure, but my friend told me he saw us."

Even with my excitement, a little apprehension sank in. How did they get us all the way up here?

I texted him back- are you sure it was us? Did you see the guy rooting for the other team sitting right next to us?

*Yep. Saw him and everything.*

My phone vibrated again. It was another friend of mine, Charles.

*I just saw you on TV at the game!*

I was beaming at this point! We had been sitting in the same seats for over two decades and I had never made the big screen and now----- I finally had-- AND--- at a moment where my team was winning, so I wasn't one of those "devastated beyond rational and acceptable belief that my team was about to lose" people.

"This is sadder than Granmaw's funeral."

I bragged about my new found fame to a few people after the game and went on with my life.

I was channel surfing a few weeks later when I came across a replay of the game.

PERFECT. Now I could witness my moment of glory. All it was going to take was a little bit of math. I paused the game and got out my phone to see the exact time that my friend texted me. I googled the time that the game kicked off and did some quick calculations to figure out that I needed to keep my eyes peeled during the middle of the second quarter.

I settled in and half heartedly watched the replay until the second quarter, at which point I turned on my hawk eyes and started scanning the crowd. (Aside- about me- I like looking for things-- shells, waldo, me at football games etc). At this point the game itself kind of became a nuisance. I didn't really care about watching any of the downs, TDs, or turnovers-- I just wanted to see my shining face in the crowd. I would scan forward anytime they annoyingly showed the players and field just to get to another crowd shot and then I would quickly pause and start perusing. Just to make sure I saw everything I would play the crowd shot on slo-mo.

BBBBBBBIIIIIIGGGGGGG GGGGUUUUUYYYYYY OFFFFFFFFFFERRRRRRRSSSSSS POPPPPPPCORRRRRRNNNNN TOOOO WIFFFFFFFEEEE WHOOOOO SHAKKKKESSS HERRRRR HEEEEEAAADDDDDD NOOOOOOOOO.

I made it to the end of the second quarter without getting a glimpse of myself and checked my math. I had to have missed it. I started over. After 45 minutes of this, I texted my friend, Michael--- Are you sure you saw me in the stands?

*What?*

At the game- you texted me and said you just saw me in the stands. Are you sure it was me?

*Oh yeah- yeah- no- I didn't see you. I just made that up.*

Really?

*Yeah and I told Charles to text you, too. Why?*

I just spent 45 minutes watching the second quarter in slo-mo trying to see myself.

*Really!?!? HAHAHAHAHHAHA*

(My response that is not blog appropriate)

*HAHAHAH Charles was certain you were going to know we were lying! But this is too great! I didn't even think about you trying to watch it. I just thought you were going to tell everyone. HAHAHAHAH*

I fumed for a while and garnished a good life lesson. It has nothing to do with being shallow and how spending the better part of the night trying to make sure I looked cute on national TV backfired on me.Or how technology has advanced to the point of truly allowing us to rot our brains in slow motion. Or how watching crowd shots over and over makes you realize that America really does  have a problem with obesity and the irony of the crowd juxtaposed with the players reinforces the ever growing issue that this nation is really unhealthy. Nope- it has nothing to do with any of that. Really it boils down to one thing-- Michael is a liar.

Gotta know your quarters

A few weeks ago my Dad, a friend, and I were waiting for the bus to head downtown to participate in the Crescent City Classic (a 10K that is always won by Kenyans... wait-- is that redundant?). It was early in the morning and we were all carrying exactly what we needed and nothing more:

• headphones and ipod----- check
• house key--------check
• $1.25------che....

The bus took a little longer than expected and we were kind of cutting it close by the time we saw it lumbering towards us. Anxiously (or slight OCDesque), I checked to make sure I had my fare (for the 4th time), and noticed something strange.

"Which state quarter has Elizabeth II on it?"

My friend, Michael, and my Dad both looked at me.

I inspected the quarter with some asinine sentiments.

"I bet it's some dumb state that doesn't realize we broke away from the British... oh, shit."

"I grabbed a stupid Canadian quarter! Why do I even have this in my change jar? I'm not going to be able to get on the bus. I can't go downtown. I can't run today!"

My Dad tried to insert a voice of reason: "Just pretend like you don't know. Play it cool and see if the machine accepts it."

Now that sounded easy enough, but playing it cool is not exactly one of my strong suits.

The bus pulled up and I got on. I put my dollar in and quickly put in the quarter. The machine spit it out the bottom. The bus driver told me to try it again. And again the machine said "peh- I don't want anything related to a LOONEY, you fool." The bus driver picked up the rejected quarter. "I don't know what this is, but it isn't a coin."

I panicked.

"I'm sorry!!! It's a Canadian quarter. But I live right there! I can run home right now and run to the next stop. You won't have to wait. I promise. I'll sprint. I grabbed the wrong change!"

At that point a good Samaritan stepped in. I think my flailing was making them uncomfortable.

"Here's a quarter. Here you go."

"Ohmygod- thank you so much. I have no idea how that happened. Here- take the Canadian quarter!!"

I got on the bus and sat down with a relieved sigh. The friendly passenger got up and gave me back my coin. "Thanks, but I don't really want a Canadian quarter."

I understood that. I pocketed my silly coin with an embarasssed look and let the lesson of the day sink in:

No state quarter has Queen Elizabeth II on it. None of them. Not even the "dumb ones."