What do you do when two women you don't know invite you to play Hacky Sack in
the hallway of a hotel? Maybe this has never been an issue in your life, but
for me, these kinds of things happen all the time and I need a plan.
My current plan consists of saying YES to anyone no matter what they ask me to
do. It's not that I need everyone to love me. If I were that desperate, I wouldn't
have taken out restraining orders against my two stalkers. Sure, one was in his
eighties and may have just fallen asleep on my lawn until someone replaced his
oxygen tank, but still, I DID NOT NEED him to love me.
I guess I just want to be seen as the fun-loving gal who's up for anything, no
matter what. How else do you explain the fact that when my husband and I were
first dating and he asked me, "Do you want to have an adventure?" I said "You
bet!" despite the fact that every fiber in my body screamed NO from the moment
I put down the phone to the moment we were hanging upside down by our seat
belts in the Jeep he had accidentally rolled twenty feet down a mountain? Or
the fact that every time someone offers me money to eat a giant dog biscuit
straight out of the box, I start munching away. These things happen and I
definitely need a plan.
And don't tell me to JUST SAY NO. That works
for women like Nancy Reagan who looks like she's been saying NO since she came
out of the womb. I'm a smiler. When a smiler says NO, people think we mean YES
anyway.
Anyway, back to the Hacky Sack. I recently spoke at a conference for people who
work in recreational sports. And boy, those people are serious about their recreating.
On a break, when most other conferees spend their time drinking coffee and
hanging out in the bathroom talking about the presenter's lack of fashion sense
- that's right, I've heard you - these people were tossing Frisbees, playing
Hacky Sack, and towing Winnebagos by a rope in their teeth. All right, I made
the last one up, but I'm sure they did that at lunch when there was enough time
to get the rope secured around the motor home's bumper.
Two of the women invited me to join them in their game of Hacky Sack. They were
both wearing shorts and t-shirts with Birkenstocks (I live in the Birkenstock
capitol of the world). I was wearing dress pants and 3" heels. I couldn't take
my heels off to play because then my pants would have been 3 and ½ inches too
long and I would have tripped and hurt myself. I can't afford that because I
passed on the presenter liability coverage.
What my teammates didn't realize is that in addition to
being improperly dressed for the sport, I have the eye-foot coordination of an
inebriated newborn giraffe. When my high school P.E. class played soccer, they
made me the towel girl. Despite the fact that our school couldn't afford
towels. I sat on the sidelines pretending to kick an imaginary ball. I missed
it every time.
Back in the hotel room hallway, right in front of the elevator, the two Hacky
Sack professionals are warming up by tossing and kicking the red-white-and-blue
bean-filled ball like Isaac Newton didn't discover gravity all those years ago.
Then I step in. The thing comes my way... I panic... take a swift kick at it... miss...
and land on my ass. Just as the elevator arrives with a family of five on their
way to their hotel room.
The kids look at me and point. "Mommy, what's that lady doing lying on the floor
with a ball in her teeth?"
Their mom hurries them away. "Don't stare, kids. And
remember, it's not
polite to make fun of the ‘differently-abled.'"
I dust myself off, stand up and give the game my best shot for another five minutes.
I make contact with the Hacky Sack twice, once kicking it into the wall and
once actually returning it to one of the women in the game. It's exhausting.
Perhaps because I'm kicking like a Rockette each time, while the others are
just barely nudging the thing with their toes. At least I'm working out my
hamstrings.
Finally, a man comes by and says "Wanna go back inside and begin the presentation?"
I immediately say YES! And for once, I'm not sorry.
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Quirkee Voices 
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