NOTE: I wrote this one a couple of years ago and thought, in the spirit
of levity and to those new to this site, I might rehash this endurance related
tale, with the hope of generating a laugh here or there. For those of you
not from the Southeast, JD is a ride manager who puts on an endurance event in
South Carolina every Thanksgiving week-end. Miss Helpful was kind of mad
at me when I first put this story out but, she's sort of OK with it now. I
did have to promise that I would never reveal her name to anyone.
I realize I've been talking too much lately about some negative issues
concerning endurance, and, well, even though I feel that we do need to seriously
consider some changes to the sport that we all have come to love, for those of
you who wonder why I keep returning to the rides, over and over again, this
story might explain the reason. Sometimes, it ain't all about the
horses.
MISS HELPFUL
In honor of Thanksgiving, soon to come, I'd like to share a JD story with
ya'll. Some of you might find parts of it kind of funny; it was one
of my endurance experiences I'll never forget. Most of what I'm about to
tell you actually did occur, but, don't forget, coming from me, there's no way
of really knowing what is real and what is not.
Seems like this fellow named Blake had locked his keys inside his Motor
home. He was purty well lit, and this was the night before an endurance
ride. JD, Blake, and a real character named Ashley (male) were all trying
to break into Blake's motor home, without causing too much damage in the
process. They finagled the lock of the main entrance door, with a
screw driver Ashley had come up with, to no avail. Finally, they
decided to move to the bathroom window, which Blake kinda thought they could pry
open with the screw driver.
I happened to be trying to sleep in my tent at the time, parked right next to
Blake, with Ashley on the other side. I was at this particular ride,
alone, so I knew this would be one of the more livelier places to set up
camp. And, these good ole boys did not disappoint me. They had me
laughing so hard, in my tent, that I had to cover my mouth, cause I didn't want
them to know I was listening. I wish I could remember the exact words that
had me laughing, some of it had to do with NASCAR, some of it just funny stuff
that men who really know and like each other say amongst themselves
when no outsider, like me, is listening. And, since I drinks a bit myself,
I knew all three of them were purty well gone and was wondering just how on
earth they were ever going to complete a ride in the morning.
Well, they pried open the window, but then they realized none of them was
small enough to squeeze thru. And they did try, which had me up and
peeking out my little screened opening from inside my tent. Watching them
try and lift Blake up to a window that was at least 5 feet from the ground,
Blake being the smallest man out of the three, was just something you don't see
every day. After about ten minutes, they gave up trying to squeeze
Blake, a short but kind of roundly shaped man, thru the incredibly small
opening.
JD comes up with the idea that he'll go and find a junior. Now, if
Jennifer, my young and skinny daughter, was with me, I sure would have
offered her services, but she wasn't. So, I just sat there and waited to
see what was going to come next. I hit the button, to illuminate my watch,
and it told me it was 15 minutes past midnight. Knock, Knock, JD
calling. "Howdy Ma'am, sorry to bother you so late at night. I was
just wondering if you got any juniors in here?"
Well, as Ashley and Blake are waiting, they start passing around a bottle of
something to keep warm. Blake says, "I just gotta get to bed. Where
am I gonna sleep tonight, Ashley?" The whining sound of his voice just
cracked me up and I almost offered to share my king size air mattress with
him. Almost, but I kept quiet. This was way too much fun for me.
Ashley has this really cool Southern voice, the kind I love listening to and
actually try to mimic whenever I get the chance to try and fool someone into
thinking I was born a Southerner (I do a poor job at it). He says, "Sure
is taking JD a long time. What time is it?" I suppress my chuckle
and find it difficult not to blurt out, "It's like way past midnight and this is
more entertaining than Letterman."
JD finally returns, empty handed. He said he knocked on a couple of
trailers, but nobody answered, or the ones who did weren't the right size and
not in a very helpful kind of mood. Blake whines again. "Guys, where am I
gonna sleep tonite?"
The men start talking again, thinking of whose trailer they're gonna knock on
next. Evidently, JD is the only one brave enough for this job. The
men start mentioning some lady's names, the ones they think might be small
enough to fit through Blake's bathroom window. Another discussion between
the men, that is incredibly funny to me, takes place. Ashley says,
"I'm not gonna wake her up; no way, no how. She can get madder than a bull about
ready to become a steer." JD finally thinks of someone. I won't
mention this woman's name, but I did know her and knew she, if anyone, would be
more likely than most to help out ole Blake. Keep in mind this was a very
crowded ride, like 170 or so total.
The men are waiting, again, for JD. Kind of reminded me of that play
"Waiting for Godot," where you start wondering if the fellow in question is ever
going to show up. Ashley decided to go back to his trailer, for
something. My guess was it might be another bottle to keep
warm. He returns, shares it with his buddy Blake, and then JD comes with,
let's just call her, Miss Helpful. Stick with me now, this is where it
gets good.
