May 2011
What started out as a spirited weight loss challenge between yours' truly and my beloved wife Diana became an odyssey that played out along the frantic streets of Los Angeles. Like the state of California, Diana and I have set about on dozens of inspired (and failed) attempts to trim the ugly fat from our excessive ways. Ours was a spirited quest to lose weight, not gain fiscal responsibility. To make sure our latest plan wasn't foiled by yet another order in the drive thru lane, we came up with some very compelling incentives to stay the course over the four and a half week adventure.
In the spirit of true sportsmanship, I felt compelled to reciprocate by asking her what incentives she needed to stay on course with her weight loss goals. When I suggested an extravagant shopping spree or a luxurious cruise, something she's always yearned to do, she turned me down! She announced with supreme confidence and unbridled excitement that she would lose 30 pounds and her reward would be for me to give up following sports for 30 days. That meant no T.V., no newspaper and no conversations with my son Bobby... nothing! With every other weight loss attempt, I've always been morally supportive, but since this one actually threatened my fragile grasp of the wide world of sports, my competitive juices flowed in a G-rated version of trash talking, "There's no way you're going to come close to losing 30 pounds in 30 days, so I will take your bet and enjoy the game!"
I quickly felt the heat of Diana's competitive nature when the pounds began melting off her faster that a stick of butter on a sizzling summer street in Sacramento. I found myself taking more and more breaks during commercials of our favorite T.V. programs to catch up on the latest news on N.B.A. T.V. in the spare bedroom. Like a heroin addict craving a fix, my hands would tremble with anticipation as I keyed in those familiar three numbers (4-1-6) on my trusty little remote controlled wand. After one too many unexcused departures and a few nasty evil eyed stare-downs from the Goddess of weight watchers, I finally became aware of the severity of my plight. That's when I took my first giant step forward for everyone who has ever struggled with an inner demon. I walked into the living room, looked Diana square in the eyes, apologized for my transgressions and said, "Hi, I'm Bob and I'm a sports-aholic."
At the end of the latest and greatest weight loss challenge, we both made progress but fell a bit short of our weighty goals. In the spirit of true sportsmanship, Diana insisted that we go to the game to celebrate our accomplishments and hard work, even after I rejected her generous proposal several times for not meeting my goals. As a gesture of good faith, I resolved to give up sports cold turkey for 30 days after returning from our whirlwind adventure in southern California. Fortunately, she turned down my offer, so now I really owe her big-time!
For the first time ever, we left for our vacation on time, arriving in L.A. shortly after noon, thus missing the famously nightmarish Friday afternoon gridlock on freeways that eat out-of-towners for dinner. When we arrived at the hotel two hours before check-in, the concierge offered to let us in early for a $50 fee. Consulting my inner penny pincher, which took all of a split second, I answered Diana with a resounding, "No way! Let's find some place to eat, I'm starving!" Our good fortunes of congestion free travel came to a sudden stop along the boulevard they call Wilshire, where your sole purpose in life becomes dodging potholes the size of miniature canyons and avoiding overly aggressive commuters who careen through intersections like bulls through the streets of Spain. Drivers in L.A. live according to the Silver Rule, "Do onto others before they do unto and all over you!" When we arrived at the restaurant, the rigor mortis that had gripped my neck like a vice had just given birth to a screaming nine pound headache, a familiar adversary who always greets me at the end of every road trip into Los Angeles. "Welcome Bob, to the speed of insanity. Now, shut up, take the wheel, suck it up and drive like your life depends on it, because down here... it does!
After three Excedrin, some good food, a lengthy bathroom break and 30 minutes away from the steering wheel, I was feeling like a human being again. That's when Diana and I began to discuss our plans on getting to the game later that night. When she suggested either riding in a town car or taking a taxi, I got another smack down from my inner penny pincher, who happens to sounds exactly like Jack Benny, minus the violin. Jack screamed out, "Are you crazy, look how much money you'll save by driving the three measly miles to the game and parking in the economy lot!" Fortunately, Diana, plus an ounce of common sense and my vanishing headache overruled Jack, so for the first time in my life, we arrived at the game via the assistance of another driver.
Come to find out, the well dressed driver was a kind, soft spoken and well educated man who was born in Korea. He studied several languages in his lifetime, so when I asked him what language was the most difficult to learn, he exclaimed, "English by far. One day many years ago, I was in McDonalds and I couldn't speak English very well at the time, so I pointed at the menu and said I'll take the number 1 meal. The young girl said very quickly, "fa-hear-ar ta-go? I told her I didn't understand what she said, so she said it again, exactly the same way, "Fa-hear-ar-ta-go?" I told her, I'm sorry I don't understand, never mind, I'll just take the number 3! I realized later that she was asking me if I wanted to eat here or to take the meal with me! Another time, I went to dinner with a friend who taught English in Korea. After several minutes of conversation, the waiter asked my friend if he was a vegetarian. He didn't know what he meant, so he replied, "No, I'm a Korean!" Well, by then, the three of us were roaring with laughter as we arrived at the stadium; on time and free of stress. That delightful experienced happened because I finally decided to let go and trust a true professional to take the wheel.
As I sit on top of the toilet in the tiny bathroom hotel, pecking away at the ebony keyboard in the wee morning hours while Diana sleeps soundly, I know that life is good... very good. The fact that the Lakers prevailed 112-104 has nothing to do with my happiness... uh oh, here we go again!
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