Today was not a good day for my feelings of mental superiority.
I don’t think I’m blowing anyone’s mind when I say I don’t like to feel stupid. In fact, I’d guess most people feel the same way, it’s just that different people have different barometers for success on the matter. Before I dive into the day though, let me clarify some terms for you based on my own decree because in my book stupid, dumb, etc. are different terms:
Stupid: When you do something that, at the moment you realize it, you say “How the HELL did I manage to do that!” *Note: Must be sober
Drunk Stupid: Where you either a) Sober up and say “I am so glad I am not dead. I am going to immediately go apologize/drink some water/make a doctor’s appointment; or b) End up on YouTube.
Dumb: Not knowing something everyone else in the room knows. You can feel dumb no matter what the topic, whether it’s current events, physics, football, what star A slept with what star B… you just need to be out of touch with the topic being discussed around you.
Complete flaming idiot: Same as dumb, except you pretend to know about the topic and potentially have a ferocious argument with people because you heard a pundit/blogger/family member/bus driver say something about the issue at one point.
Back to my day, which should have been pretty straightforward. All I had to do was put some work in, then catch a city bus to the train station and hop a bus to Vancouver (Erika had the car up there already). Instead my day started to go awry last night when I had this conversation in the car with Blaiz, the guy on my hockey team giving me a ride:
BLAIZ: You’re taking the bus to Vancouver? How much does that cost?
ME: It’s not too bad. Around 40 bucks, but the worst part is that it takes 4 hours instead of the 2.5 hours it would take to drive. Better than the train though, that takes an hour longer.
BLAIZ: Each way?
ME: Yeah.
BLAIZ: Huh. Wouldn’t it be cheaper to just rent a car? It’s about $20 a day isn’t it?
ME: …
ME: …
ME: …
ME: Yes. That’s a much better idea. Let us never speak of it again.
Unfortunately I’d already bought the tickets so I figured I’d save that little tidbit for next time. To make matters worse, I then proceeded to leave the tray of water bottles, as well as my Nalgene of Gatorade, in Blaiz’s truck when he dropped me off.
For those keeping track at home, I’m up to 2 stupid things and it’s not even today yet.
I thought I was making headway today. Work went well, I packed at lunch, then caught the bus at 3:30pm and went downtown. Timed it perfectly too. I also emailed Blaiz on the way and mentioned that I’d left the bottles with him. He was at work so he went to check his truck. At 4:35pm I go to get my tickets (bus leaves at 4:45) and as the kiosk is spitting out the tickets I notice a little chunk of text on the screen:
Identification will be checked prior to boarding.
ME: ID… I have ID, my wallet is in my pocket. Why is my heart racing? Bus… bus is going to Canada. I’m Canadian. Have to come home though. To come back all I need is my… FUUUUU!!!!
This phone call ensued. I may not be remembering it 100% correctly:
RING RING
ERIKA: Hello?
ME: HI.
ERIKA: What’s wrong?
ME: I’m at the bus station. I forgot my passport. I can’t come to Vancouver now.
ERIKA: Oh honey, I’m so sorry!
ME: Sorry that my genes are going to drag down your children’s IQ like concrete underpants? Yeah, I’m sorry too. At this point I’ll be happy if they can be potty trained at all. We might have to consider free-ranging them.
ERIKA: …
Then, after the phone call with Erika I get this message from Blaiz: “The water bottles aren’t in the car. Must be in the parking lot at the ice rink.” Which, y’know, was exactly what I needed right then.
So today I spent a good 5 minutes sitting in the train station without my passport, watching the bus that I paid too much for pull away, thinking about my water bottles in a parking lot on the other side of town, and eating a cookie.
I felt pretty smart for buying that cookie though.
CONCRETE underpants? I'm gonna need waterproof underpants for the next time I read one of these blogs,Paul..now, just a note that there is every possibility that I passed down 'this type of day' gene to you...
ReplyDeleteIf it's any consolation, you made me laugh. I've never heard of "free-range" children before (at least where it doesn't involve contacting social services)...
ReplyDeleteIn case you and Erika opt to go with the "Free Range" approach, you may find this helpfulll...;)
ReplyDeletehttp://www.amazon.com/Free-Range-Raise-Self-Reliant-Children-Without/dp/0470574755