The Wave

The sun, being tired on all accounts, has retired and is feining to rise, not wishing to shake off the warmth of it's bed.  I on the other hand have risen.  My bed consisting of the carpet, a white squishy pillow, and a blanket have since jostled me into this awakened state hence I feel inspired to write.

My brother is home for the Holidays, along with other college students according to their households, and we decided to attend a basketball tournament that our former High School would be participating in.  Being alumni of not only the school but the team, we found humor and a very subtle source of accomplishment reinjected as we stumbled into the stands.  We were never the greatest, posting up enough points not to lose every game conceivable, but we were decent.  My brother was the star and my friend his bionic machine.  My job on the team was to find some way to teleport the ball to Jared, which was never very difficult given our twin telepathy (it does exist...). 

It was only a murmur ago that we were standing upon the hardwood, blue jersey squished into our color coordinated trousers, high-top shoes laced until they hugged the ankle.  The sound brought back every inescapable memory as if trapped in never ending overtime.  Whistles blew the game to life as a mega horn from the scoreboard traveled across the bleachers.  Parents adament of their child's future glory or at least hopeful of their safe enjoyment, lined the stands, sitting despite the notion given by their seats.

The court was great and all, but my story this morning will dribble us from the gymnasium across the street to the local Wendy's.  I suppose the above paragraph could have been juked in the first place, but I admittedly have been enjoying these strange basketball adjectives.  Now for the cross-over.

Wendy's was decently deserted, given the frosty is pretty much the tastiest ice cream available besides Cornerstone.  I enjoy dipping my fries into the ambrosian soft serve and hence was able to sway a small car of hungy men into dining within the bricked facility.  The line swirved through that black metal fencing, the kind created specifically for those of us who haven't made up our minds yet and might still need a sluggish moment to turn the thought over.  Being on a decent, post Christmas income, the dollar menu seemed rather tasty.  Wendy must have been a great cook though her math is somewhat scary.  The priced num nums were faintly reminsicent of Canada's tagging though the staff at this late of an hour seemed of better temperment.  (Yes, I did reference the fantastic country of Canada.  Being neighbors to the nation, my brother and I have ventured across the border to experience KFC.  Terrible reason if searching for food, but since we were roused by adventure, a cousin's graduation from the local High School in Grimsby, and the love of accents we mosied over the great divide.  Gotta love the Canadians eh?).

Tonight, post ordering, we gathered around conjoined tables with my friend Colten whom also was a former star of the Globe Trotters (at least in our quaint hometown).  The fry and frosty combo surpassed its glorious reputation and as my eyes began to wander, as they are so prone to in  any place with available scenery, I noticed a couple placing an order at the counter.

This may be my air ball moment of eternity.  Any time I witness someone waving my hand instinctively returns the gesture.  They may be a complete stranger, and I am not expecting to be in acquaintences with everyone upon this ball of fascinating creation but it only seems fair to be friendly.  Unfortunately, 9 of 10 times, I find that they are indeed not motioning to me but one of their relations; as the true recipient emerges from nearby my post.  This generally will cause my cheeks to flush a more brilliant shade of red than the painted LARGE container of fries I am devouring or even Wendy's pigtailed innocence. This was to be the case this evening as well, my attempts to friendship were stuffed and it tasted no where near as good as Wendy's baked potato.

As I was recalling, a couple was ordering at the counter.  Their 5 year old girl with deep blond locks was circling her 7 year old brother in a strangely awkward game of duck-duck-goose.  The parents were completely directed towards the menu and the fidgeting cashier decked with green possibly in honor of the recent holiday.  For a moment, I wondered what a Christmas dinner sponsored by Wendy's would be like.  Probably brilliant, being reminded of "The Christmas Story" excursion to the Chinese restaraunt.  (If you ever have the opportunity, the film is a real marksman when it comes to entertainment and the warm feeling of growing up so much so that you could "shoot your eye out" if you are not careful.)

Anywho, the couple turned in my general direction towards the opposite corner of the building where my friends and I were feasting.  Jr. Bacon Cheeseburgers, frosties and fries...the dinner of Champions (props to Wheaties for starting our day right).  Their glance diverted as I met their sights.  Finishing my yummies, I looked back to double check whether their eyes were seeking mine.  A wave appeared in the distance, and as in the stands of an exciting game, I am hard pressed not to continue the motion.  My hand began to rise but then, the buzzer. A small child cradled by a oaken booster seat intercepted my joy, cherrypicking the goodness.  She was only about a year of so old with locks as blond as the vanilla frosty I did not favor (being a chocolate fan).  This would have been just another blooper but what gave the play a certain instant replay feel was what happened post kodak moment.

As the girl's hand receeded back into her mouth, the parents eyes lifted only to find my hand still in the air.  A look of horror spread across their face as if they were munching a burned fry or stale soda.  My hand returned back it's cave in my large container of fries and the family returned to their table.

I washed down my dignity with the remnants of ice cream and hustled back to the match which ended in our losing from simple mistakes.  But as for me, after the Wendy's Wave mishap, it was game over.