Recently, we received a schedule of Connor's swim meets. I decided that I would not miss a single meet. Well, I missed the first one because I'm me. You know... Flagboy. On the day of the second meet, I found a good parking spot on the east end of the school and ran inside to find the pool.(Me? Running? Yeah, rright.) But I was hurrying.
I hustled like a man on a quest. I kept thinking I could smell the pool, or at least, feel the dampness in the air. When I got to the FAR west end of Jordan High, I finally lost faith in my keen nasal instincts and asked a guy where the swimming pool was. He seemed like a fellow who had been asked many many stupid questions by many decades of students, but this one had him stumped for a second or two. "There's no swimming pool."
Acting on his instructions, I went screaming for Mount Jordan Jr. High School where Jordan was competing with Grantsville. Connor is a senior and a team captain. The meet was fun and, of course, Con-man did really well.
I decided that, considering my navigational skills, I would stick to "home meets" for awhile. I had MJJH's location down pretty well, because we had watched Jodi compete there in gymnastics. The next meet was against Pleasant Grove. By this time I had my swagger back and went strolling in a half hour early. Things were looking smooth. But, alas, a girl met me at the door. "We need timers! Will you help?" I politely declined. "But it's really really easy, and you will do great." This poor girl had no knowledge of the whole "Flagboy" thing. She was very determined and I soon found myself sitting on a timer's bench. Connor came along, quite surprised to see me there. He was really excited for me. He, too, had no real grasp of "D-flaggs".
Okay... Ya hold two buttons. Ya push the right hand button at the instant the heat starts and both buttons at the instant the heat ends. Simple. I had no idea what the second button did, but I didn't care. I was on lane six where the younger kids compete, and sometimes lane six was empty. Nice. The kids all jumped off a platform. I was doing well. That is until the kids all jumped into the pool and then took their starting spot IN the pool, for the backstroke. I was confused, but just for ONE second. The starting horn was, for me, the STARTLING horn. I was most of one second late. I felt sooo bad. I worried about being arrested and thrown into a cell with Brian David Mitchell or Mark Hoffman or the guy with all the facial tattoos. The swim meet went well the rest of the way. The timer sitting next to me casually said, "Oh by the way, this is just "backup" timing. The actual timing is all electronic."
I was so busy with that stupid timer that I almost didn't get to see Connor compete. Oh well, it was great being ther with him. I assumed for some insanely wacky reason, that the boys dressing room was on tne south end and the girls were on the north. Oh, no. As I started out the south door, the one I thought I came in, a woman grabbed me and said, "you can't go out through the girls dressing room."
But, really, I am finding my way around the facility quite well. No. Really. I just wear a fake mustache and shades so the timer girl will never remember me.
And to think: Barbara called Jodi one day this week. She thought she heard some background noise. "What's going on?" Jodi replied, "Oh, I'm just feeding fifty swimmers." Sometimes I wonder if Jodi realizes how much I sacrificed that day to help Connor out.