It Could Be Worse

At some point each of us must face some pretty harsh truths: Santa Claus, Easter Bunny, Tooth Fairy – and most adults don’t get summer vacation.

But just because we don’t get the summer off from work doesn’t mean we can’t have some fun. A few years ago, Tanger was in the process of being redeveloped. And with the redevelopment came three new restaurants.

Unfortunately, one of the restaurants (to remain nameless) was forced to have the majority of the construction occur in the heat of the summer.

On one Al Gore type summer day, the foreman, who I’d gotten to know quite well, called to ask a few questions. It was just after lunch and the heat was clearly taking a toll. He was short of breath and I could hear him wiping his brow.

When I answered, he started with “Holy S%#^, it’s hot out here!” Followed by further gasps for air and the sounds of him chugging water.

My response: “Really? It’s a lovely 74 degrees here, with a slight breeze. Matter of fact, I was a little chilly earlier and had to put on a sweater.”

His response: “Willy – F%#^ YOU!”

Once I stopped laughing, I helped him out and we both went our merry ways.

The moral of the story is this – just because you don’t get a vacation, doesn’t mean you should pity yourself. It could be worse: you could be laboring in the summer sun only to have some smartass in an air conditioned office giving you some lip.

The Hottest I’ve Ever Been – Part III

Occasionally, a group of us guys get together, sans wife and kids, to have a chance to hang out, unwind, and do manly things. These “Guys Nights”, or “Sausage Fests”, include such manly things as drinking beer and playing pool, or playing high stakes putt-putt where the loser buys dinner, or eating wings and catching a non-chick flick.

One time, and one time only, we headed south to Savannah to do one of the manliest things a bunch of married guys can do – go dirt track racing.

The night was started by stuffing our faces with fried chicken and pre-hydrating on Coke. We arrived at Oglethorpe Speedway around 7:00, giving us an hour or so to pick out which cars we were going to claim – and to bake in the evening sun.

After about 45 minutes of pre-race strategy, the massive combination of greasy food and Coke decided it didn’t appreciate the sun and heat. Having spent some time at race tracks growing up, I realized this was a problem I did not want to “address” here. If I could just outlast the sun, I would be good.

Unfortunately, the sun still had a good 30 minutes left before it parted ways with us for the night. I wasn’t going to make it 30 minutes.

Now I was sweating for two reasons, the latter almost like cold chills.

This wasn’t getting any better – and we hadn’t even started racing yet. And we are an hour from home. And I’m not the first stop.

It was time to man up, and as they say in Men at Work, “Do the nasty”:

At this point, I refer you to Shakespeare:

“The better part of valor is discretion” from Henry the Fourth

Continue reading at your own peril…

The Hottest I’ve Ever Been – Part II

August 30, 2003, Clemson, South Carolina

Clemson was opening the 2003 football season by hosting Georgia for a noon game. The previous year, Clemson took UGA down to the wire in Athens, and expectations were high.

The first football game is always the most exciting. We were pumped as we headed from Waterloo to the Promised Land. Everything was going just as planned until we hit Anderson. At that point, 20,000 Clemson fans met 20,000 UGA fans.

Traffic stopped. Temperatures were high. Tempers were higher.

We finally made our parking space 15 minutes before kickoff. We literally ran from the car to the stadium. We were then stuck in the concourse waiting to get to our seat. It’s hot. It’s sticky. It’s smelly.

We finally make our seats just as the Tigers are coming down the hill. They were pumped. We were pumped. The crowd was pumped.

All 80,000+ fans were jumping up and down. It was downright sweltering in there.

But we didn’t care. Football was back and we were playing the silver britches.

Then the second most beautiful play-action pass I’ve ever seen occurred (see Chris Weinke vs Clemson). David Green faked, Justin Miller bit, Fred Gibson scored.

UGA 7 – Clemson 0

Unfortunately, the temperatures continued to climb. So did Georgia’s side of the scoreboard.

The afternoon sun never relented. Neither did Georgia’s defense.

Final score: UGA 30 – Clemson 0

At the end of the day, we were sweat soaked and sun burnt. And humiliated.

That day will not set any temperature records as there were many days as hot or even hotter, but to me, that was the most miserable football game I’ve ever been to. Add in the traffic before the game, the shut out, and the fact that’s it at home to your rival, and it all points to the hottest I’ve ever been.

The Hottest I’ve Ever Been – Part I

Right now, it’s hot. Damn hot. But this ain’t the worst it’s ever been. No the summer of ’94 takes the cake.

That summer I was the head of the one-man weed eating department at Stoney Pointe Golf Course (now called the Links at Stoney Pointe) in Greenwood, South Carolina. Unfortunately, as head weed eater, you can’t dress to the weather. You have to dress to the job.

Dressing to the job means long pants, usually old jeans or Dickies, and long sleeves. Long pants and long sleeves aren’t conducive to summers in the South. But at the same time, money made as weed eater in long pants and long sleeves is better than no money at all.

“Everybody needs money. That’s why they call it money.”
Danny DeVito from Heist

One particular hot day I was weed eating a small ravine that separates the fairway from the green on Hole #2, a short Par 5. I survived the morning, but as the afternoon heat wore on, I started slowing down. Around mid-afternoon, I finally gave in.

I headed to the clubhouse to get an ice cold drink (they were free to staff). The first sweet tea went down quick and smooth. The second a tad slower, but much more enjoyable. The third – much slower as I savored the wet and cold.

Cooled off and re-hydrated, I headed back out to the course to finish my job. The first step outside was like a punch in the gut and left me short of breath. I had already forgotten how stinkin’ hot it was.

But I was 15 and invincible, so I pressed on. Found my spot on the fairway side of the ravine and recranked the weed eater.

Hole #2 – Links at Stoney Point

At about the half hour mark into my weed eating activities, the sweet tea was no longer being sweet. It started to sour. And as it soured, so did I.

I fought the sweet tea and heat as long as I could. But eventually, they won. And by won, I mean they wanted out – and out they came.

I learned a valuable lesson that day. And nearly 20 years later I can say I’ve never chugged sweet tea or any similar drink on a day like today. And I can say the heat’s never won again.

P.S. – Hole #2 is special to me as it’s also the place where I took my last ever chaw.

Most courses have shortcuts to allow you to get around the course without riding the cart paths. In this case, getting to the green at hole #2 meant riding the main subdivision streets and cutting across an open field (read undeveloped lot). As I was crossing this field, I hit a major bump, which caused me to swallow everything in my mouth, including the pinch of Levi Garrett & juices.

Never again have I put smokeless tobacco in my mouth…