Unlockable Doors

Dateline: Northbrook, Illinois January 7, 1999 - 7:00 a.m.

I opened the front door of my mom's house and was greeted by zero degree weather. The garage door slid up and my 1985 Buick Regal Ltd. sat waiting for the adventure ahead. The trunk was full with golf clubs, clothes, and a vacuum cleaner. The back seat was filled with home stuff. The front seat had a TV on it. I was ready to shove off. Time to depart to parts henceforth unknown. Destination: Fort Collins, Colorado.

I was moving. I had gotten a job in Greeley, Colorado. Day one was an eight hour drive to Omaha, Nebraska. The Days Inn in Omaha was ready for me when I arrived in the afternoon. My first floor room however had a problem with the toilet. They moved me to the second floor. Problem.

The lock on the passenger side door of my car was broken, unlockable. Everything I was moving was in that car. I had asked for a first floor room so I could keep an eye on my car out the window. Now, I had an outpost view from above and I was nervous. I fall asleep and somebody walks off with my TV at minimum. Easy pickings. There was hope though.

It started to snow. I figured if it snowed enough to cover the car it would hide it's contents. Snow baby snow.

Darkness fell and I was anxious. With every car door I leaped from bed and looked out the window down at the broken car door scenario. 1:00 AM 2:00 AM 3:00 AM Stupid late arrivals.

Morning breaks with dark circles under my eyes from zero sleep. Contents of car intact.

The day goes well, except for the cop that tells me to move my car or get a ticket as I am holding my TV in front of my new apartment. By 3:00 PM, I am sitting in my new apartment on my rented couch sitting in wonder and amazement. The apartment was all set up. The rented furniture had arrived and was already set up. The carpet hadn't even been walked on. You could see the cleaning rake marks still. I had landed. One journey was over and the rest as they say is history. 11 years worth now...

Victory Parties

When I was 12 years old, we played street hockey. Street hockey was basically ice hockey without the ice, skates, and puck. Most of the neighborhood kids played street hockey, some more than others. We spent hours and hours blocking cars from easy passage down Big Oak Lane. It was our street after all. How dare they interrupt the game!

When we got tired of playing against each other, we sought out others that played our game. A couple of streets down from us was a team called Redwood. Besides being a street, Redwood was a team of really good ice hockey players, most of them all stars. We were just a bunch of hackers from Big Oak, or so they might have thought.

But we lived and breathed this game of street hockey. One year, we destroyed our front lawn and wore it down to bare dirt playing so many games. Numerous garage doors were also obliterated from constant barrages of slap shots. This was our sport.

So, when the gauntlet was thrown down and we were challenged to play against Redwood. there really was only one thing to do before the game. Victory Party!

We went to the grocery store and bought Cheetos and pop and celebrated our upcoming victory against Redwood in our treehouse. We just believed we were going to win.

The game was held and we won 7-2. Redwood was stunned and really mad. How could a bunch of nobodies beat an all star team? Rematch. OK.

After another Victory Party, we routed them 14-2 this time. They were convinced and we were as well, only for us it was before we played the game.