“Ya can’t fix stupid.”
Yeah. Tell me about it.
Me and the Bro-In-Law volunteered for the “Security” gig at the
Church’s annual “Day In The Park”.
Once a year, the faithful
have church in the park by
setting up over 500 chairs and a sound system in the park's Pavilion, which is a huge roof over a huge concrete slab attached to a cinder block kitchen/snack shack which can hold lotsa brats and volunteers.
There’s also two Bouncy Houses, Pony Rides, a Petting Zoo-complete with goats, sheep, a camel, and a llama-Face Painting, and Games. It’s a pretty good time and well-attended by the whole community.
Everything gets setup on Saturday afternoon. And it all gets used on Sunday, starting at 10:30 AM.
See where I’m going with this?
Somebody needs to make sure it’s all there come Sunday morning. Enter the security force of Twiddledee and Twiddledum for the all-night vigil.
Yeah.
That would be us.
Two guys who qualify for fast-food Senior Discounts.
Blackwater we're not.
But volunteering actually made sense to us. Kinda.
It wouldn’t be all that hard to pull off an all-nighter since we’re both up 2 to 3 times a night anyhow. Right?
Well.
Live and learn.
We began our vigil at 10.
That would be in the "P.M".
I brought the laptop to help us stay awake. We settled into lawn chairs and munchies with the idea of watching all three episodes of “Sherlock-Season 3”, the BBC series.
We soon discovered that the BBC doesn’t go in for commercial breaks or 45-minute shows.
The last “Sherlock” episode finished about 3 o’clock.
At least that’s what we estimated when we woke up at 3:30.
We also estimated that we had already missed the first “nocturnal excursion” we regularly practiced. And it was past the time for the second.
The bathrooms were cinderblock buildings abutting the parking lot, sitting morosely under the faint glow of a lone security light.
Not quite a directional beacon like the Star of Bethlehem, but then again, there were no wise men present, just me and the Bro-In-Law.
However we did have the same level of urgent expectation.
These bathrooms also had the added feature of numeric pushbutton locks on their vandalism-proof metal doors.
We were given a slip of paper with the combination for the doors scrawled across it in the faintest of inks. Which, of course, brings to mind that Chinese proverb.
"The faintest of inks is better than the best of memories."
In our situation, it didn't matter much one way or the other.
Okay. We're both half-awake and wearing bifocals in a low-light situation.
We're 0 for 2.
And we're about to burst.
O for 3.
Oh. You'll love this.
The numeric pushbutton combination?
It's 7 digits long.
Yeah. 7.
It takes less numbers to launch a nuke from a silo in South Dakota.
Imagine two guys trying to walk after spending five hours in lawn
chairs.
Now add the missed renal appointments, bifocals, pitiful lighting, and 7 digit security.
Yeah. Not pretty.
Really, people.
Not fun.
Time being a matter of grave importance, we quickly gave up on the lock and groaned our way around to the back of the bathroom.
There in the privacy of darkness, shielded from the Pavilion, we faced our salute towards the ball diamond.
Something did sound different from past experiences of this ilk but we had reached the point of no return.
And, frankly, we didn't care.
As our eyes adjusted to the darkness, we found ourselves saluting directly on top of the staked-out Bouncy Houses that were waiting patiently for
inflation and the wild laughter of children.
Bouncy Houses that now waited for a strong, drying breeze before the kids showed up.
We were relieved again, this time officially, about three hours
later when the sound crew showed up.
I got back to the Little-House-On-The-Corner on Sunday morning,
about 8:30, and was horizontal-parade-rest by 8:34.
I woke up at 11:30.
Nuts. Missed the service.
I staggered out to the Chair and promptly fell asleep.
Nuts. Missed the llama and the
camel. Forget the ponies. They all look like Lucky to me.
(Please see 6-08-2014 post for context. Or not. Your call .)
I woke up when the Wife and TechnoBoy got home, about 2 in the
afternoon. They didn’t bring me a
brat. Not even a hot dog.
Oh, mannnnn. Missed lunch.
And now my brain is slowly being rejuvenated by the Elixir of Knowledge which, for some reason, is fixating on the story of Mary
and Martha.
Mary chose wisely by enjoying the Master’s presence while Martha
ran around doing things, missing time with the Master. Just like I missed a great time at Day In The Park.
I guess that's the contrast between relationship and religion.
Of being versus doing.
And accepting grace versus working to earn it.
Yeah. Mary did it right.
But, hey, Martha got something right, too.
She didn’t stay up all night.
Give her credit for that.