The First Rule of Fight Club...

Hey everyone. Glad to see that we all made it back from where ever it was that we went to this past weekend. I had a pretty eventful weekend myself. Five of my closest friends from college and their wives rented a cabin up in Pigeon Forge along with Amy and myself. It has become an annual tradition. We have a great time, and this year was no exception. Chunk, Moo, Slemp, Neil, and Wood were there. All of us are married, except for Wood, who is the most elligible guy I know (wink wink to the ladies). So everyone had a bedroom except for Wood who pulled sleeper-sofa duty.

Without trying, there is always one event that seems to set itself apart as the defining event for the weekend in my mind. Needless to say, this years was the best to date. It is Saturday night and the group has finished eating at Johnny Corinos and decides to go play laser tag (not to jump ahead, but I finished 3rd overall in a field of about 25 at LaserQuest). My vehicle (the Xterra) is in the lead to head up the strip to find a suitable laser tag establishment. I have to turn right out of the parking lot in order to get to a redlight and pull a U-turn. The cars in the left-hand turn lane of oncoming traffic are blocking my view of the lane I am trying to pull into. I ease out and see a break in the traffic...or so I thought. What I failed to notice was the speeding green saturn that came roaring through the light at the moment that I punched the gas. Due to God's mercy, and what I believe now is His desire for me to have a good story to tell from the weekend, I lurch the truck to a stop without pulling out into the lane. Tragedy avoided...or so I thought. I proceed to complete my U-turn and fall into line behind the aforementioned speeding green saturn at the next redlight.

To my surprise I see the driver side door open and a 20-22 year old kid wearing a white hoodie holding a dip cup and weighing about 135 lbs. step out of the green saturn. As he is approaching my vehicle I am taking stock of several things and running several scenarios through my head. I notice he has a car load of other people (guys as crazy as he is?...I am unsure at this point). I am counting the total number of my friends in my car and the car behind me and sizing up their overall value-added in the case that this gets "ugly". I am laughing to myself that this kid is carrying his dip cup back with him. I am reviewing my extensive bow-staff, cage-fighter, and num-chuck skills to determine the optimal attack mode. I am telling myself that I cannot laugh outloud when the kid gets to my window or this WILL get "ugly". I am trying to decide if I will lose my job or security clearance if I get in a street brawl with a punk redneck kid at a Pigeon Forge intersection. I laugh to myself again that this kid is carrying a dip cup. And finally, I think back to the last fight I was in (Daniel McNally, 6th Grade, After Lunch, Guys Restroom, I won...I think).

The kid (who in my mind I have named Jimbo by this time) is now at my window and I roll my driver side window down. The kid then strings a short procession of profanity together in telling me I should watch what I am doing. I let Jimbo know that he needs to calm down some, and I started to apologize for the incident. By this time though, Jimbo has spoken his piece and is already walking himself and his dip cup back to his car. Crisis and middle-of-the-road-fist-fight avoided I think to myself and start to roll my window back up. At about halfway up, my friend (Neil for those who are keeping score) yells out the window, "Jackxxx!". Now, I love Neil. He is a good friend of mine, but of my buddies that were present that weekend he is the scrawniest one and I can guarantee he hasn't been in a fight since his 6th grade year either. Too late now though. It was spoken, hanging out there as plain as Jimbo's dip cup. I knew for sure that my wife was going to have to throw my bail at that point. I am reaching for the door handle and trying to put the truck into park prepared for Jimbo to wheel around not wanting to be halfway out of my truck if Jimbo did feel squirrely. Jimbo was obviously a lover and not a fighter that night, because after a slight pause he continued with his dip cup back to the green saturn. The light turned green and the saturn drove off into the neon sunset. Neil's wife punched him in the arm and scolded him, and Amy began breathing again.

I couldn't have made up a funnier story.