The real reason I'm a gimp is more a result of me being an ass as opposed to me actually getting any ass.
Maybe I should back up.
The only reason I look forward to Monday's - and I mean the only reason - is because Prison Break is on. My Monday's start with a 7:30 A.M. meeting at work, followed by a completely packed day. I drag myself home around five, put on my purple muu-muu, take a nap and wake up in time to enjoy the hour of pure adrenaline and testosterone uninterrupted. I live for Prison Break. Nothing happens for me on Monday nights until after it's over.
So when I got an email yesterday afternoon about an activity that was going on Monday night, I didn't think much of it. A bunch of people were getting together to play Commando; we were supposed to meet at the clubhouse at 7pm, and come "dressed in black."
[For those of you who don't know, Commando is a game where you have two groups of people; one group goes on foot and the other group goes in cars with spotlights. The point is for the people on foot to make it from designated Point A to Point B without getting caught by the people in cars.]
I've played Commando before, and I'm not a huge fan of the whole running and dry heaving thing, but its actually pretty fun. Plus I like being the leader of a group and telling everyone where to go, when to drop to the ground, and when to army roll. The army roll directive is usually accompanied by the typical response, "But its asphalt. Why are we army rolling across a parking lot?" Followed by my typical response, "Just do it. It will be funny. Shut up. It's funny. I'm in charge here. Just do it."
I got home and talked to my roommates, who casually asked if I was planning on going. Sure it would be fun, but its my standing date night with Prison Break. Plus, I barely knew any of the people going, they barely knew me or if they did, they knew me as the girl who likes Elvis. This was not a social group that I regularly mingled with. I had absolutely no intention of going, and neither did my roommates, until I said sarcastically, "I don't have any black clothes except for my Batman costume."
As soon as I said it, the lightbulb went off.
The more I contemplated, the more fun it sounded. I weighed my options: These people almost never remember who I am, I'd probably only gotten an invite because they know my roommates, and they don't have the first idea about my sense of humor. Showing up dressed as Batman would probably just make them feel uncomfortable and not know how to respond to me. It would definitely be socially inappropriate.
But was I willing to give up Prison Break to show up at an activity dressed as Batman, surrounded by people who ask me my name every time they see me, and run around for an hour, dressed as Batman, for no reason other than to have a good story to blog about?
Getcha popcorn, folks, and let the sideshow begin.
Exhibit A: I pull out my Batman costume, a la Halloween 2005, which just so happened to be the last time I'd played Commando. It was very nostalgic.
Exhibit B: I show up, and people don't really know what to do except laugh uncomfortably. Behold me in all my glory and reflective shoes.
When people asked me why I was dressed as Batman, I pointedly said that I come to win, and secondly, that I wasn't "dressed as Batman." Those muscles were all me.
Which brings me back to the foot fracture.
As I said, I like to play Commando, and the whole point is to be stealthy and fugitive-like. None of this walking down the street crap. If you're gonna go, you go balls out. We had that covered no problem. There may or may not have been many times when I was either hiding in the bed of a dump truck, face down in a ditch, or army crawling under barbed wire. And I'm happy to report that the cape was victorious and made it back in one piece.
And when I say "the cape was victorious", I am referring to our last stretch on the Underground Railroad when we had to drop down a ten foot wall and I landed nimbly, (unbeknownst to me that my foot had landed on the edge of the cape) made a sharp turn to the left to take off running for safety, when the cape (which I was still standing on) caused me to roll over my own left foot, hence the fractured fifth metatarsal.
It would've been OK if the injury had been in the name of triumph. It would've been worth it to see the looks on everyone's faces when Batman arrived safely and shouted "I shake my fist at you, rules of convention!!" However, my excitement was short lived when we reached the safe point only to find that "apparently" everyone else had made it there half an hour earlier, and had already gone home.
It was a long and dejected walk back home. But it was worth it for the stories, right??