Well, now that we’re back in the daily swing of things, its time to reflect on the epic nature of our last tournament. The first day went a little like this: after braving about 6 vehicle rollovers in the Southern Albertan winter wonderland, we casually enter
As far as actual basketball, we came in 4th place. But notice how I said the tournament was epic in the last paragraph, and I meant it. It was filled with sword fights, defense chants, and discussions on the nature of Febreeze. I didn’t come away with detailed knowledge of the next play, but what I did come away with fresh smelling (although soggy) shoes.
Saturday reminded me of something straight out of The Breakfast Club. After a noon-game (which we lost, and blamed on the fact that we hadn’t woken up yet) we were treated to the wonderful privilege of staying in Claresholm for another 5 hours (I really brushed up on my sarcasm lately). So, I was in a bit of a pickle. I had to replace the warm embrace of a basketball bench with something else in that god forsaken school. So we embarked upon a journey to save our cozy buttocks.
Courtesy of Zach, we found a secret room in an ancient and obviously untouched library. This secret room was referred to on a sign as “the Hawks Nest”. To my surprise, there were no bird droppings, and no angry hawk dive-bombed
Now, for some reason I can’t explain, none of us left that room. Perhaps it was a sick competition to see who had the highest tolerance for low oxygen; perhaps it was the whole Breakfast Club vibe, where like John and Claire, we thought we had some non-existent principal breathing down our necks. Either way, instead of developing an exit strategy, we found a minty-fresh can of Febreeze in one of the drawers. Or maybe it wasn’t minty; I couldn’t exactly pin down the scent, although it did get pinned down my nostrils multiple times. It really does bring a new definition to the phrase “trigger-happy”. Anyway, I’m sure you can guess what we attempted to do with this Febreeze, given the fact that all of us, as a rule, don’t read the back of aerosol cans (honestly, with the tiny printing, who would?). Soon we realized that it actually was intended for fabrics, as opposed to shoes…..or skin.
By the two hour mark, we had lost all connection to all logical thoughts. We stopped wondering why no one cared that we were not present at an actual basketball game, and started wondering why the Morpheus get-up I purchased at Fields earlier that day (don’t ask) wasn’t giving off the same vibe when I wore it as it did for Lawrence Fishburne in the Matrix movies. I could never really pin that down either. Is it true that the clothes make the man? I used to think that, but these days that theory is in doubt.
Soon after, once the “Febreezeiolis effect” (I’ve just coined that term, trademarks are coming) wore off, we discovered something else to keep us amused. And no, it wasn’t the mountains of books that surrounded us, or even the lonely workstation computer in the corner, it was something even more simplistic. It was a piece of the magazine rack that was wooden and formed the general shape of a sword. The particular name of that piece of wood escapes me, but that didn’t matter once I picked it up and realized that it makes a whoosh sound when I swing it.
What followed was about an hour of perfecting the same 3 repetitive moves with Alec holding the other sword. We figured we would do it the Hollywood way, which is to perfect these moves until they are so fast they actually look badass. By the end we were drawing glances from the other side of the portal to the “real dimension” (read: from outside the library). The best part: some of these glances actually came from the fairer sex, and no, they weren’t “What are these idiots doing?” glances, they were “Wow, they’re actually pretty good” glances. Benchwarmers: 1, Starters: 0.
It’s like I said, when you sit the bench, body language is the name of the game.