As expected, I've made fun of one too many retarded guys and god is now punishing me...well, at least this is part one of the punishment.
About five weeks ago or so, my right arch in my foot started to bother me. I assume the pain was caused by my 5 year old Timberland work boots which I've been wearing not that it's getting colder, or possibly my 4 year old cleats that I wear to play outdoor football. More than likely, it's a combination of both. The pain started off with just a mild discomfort, but by now it has gotten to the point where I can barely walk barefoot after playing any sort of sport. Something needs to be done.
So, I go to the Wizards game on Wednesday night. No, not to fix the foot problem, I just went to watch the Wizards play...bear with me here. They won the game, and there were some great highlights from the on-court action. But the true highlights for me were off-court, in Section 102, directly to my left.
It was during warm-ups that I first noticed them. Yes, THEM. There were two. Two of my old buddies from high school...none other than JP and Mongo (that's what we'll call him at least, I never knew his name). They are big time Washington sports fans. Some might even consider them superfans with their respective Nationals and Redskins Starter jackets, poorly shaped Capitals and Wizards caps, and large foam fingers. Hell, this is the third sporting event I've personally seen them at this year! Yes, even I would consider them superfans. Retarded Superfans.
I immediately call my buddy Kupe to let him know of my sighting, overwhelmed with joy. And then, I notice him...sitting about 10 rows up from the Superfans, directly to my left at the end of the section. Could it be? Am I so lucky? Yes, there is a dwarf sitting in the same section as two retarded guys. God has truly blessed me this evening. Or has he?
As if from the bible, God is quick to punish me for my mockery. I woke up Thursday morning with more pain in my right arch than ever before. Something definitely needs to be done now.
So Thursday night, I'm at the mall with Amy, buying new shoes with extra arch support and "special" inserts. Yep, special. It's not Down Syndrome special, but the process has now begun. It won't be long now before I get an incurable cramp in my hand, an uncontrollable urge to hug everyone and will spit up on myself.
Crap, that sounds like my typical Saturday night. ("We should have listened!")