34
Sweetness. That’s what the media and fans called him. Ole number 34, Walter Payton, arguably the best running back to play football. Unfortunately I wasn’t old enough to fully appreciate his career. Even still, as a first-year football player myself at the ripe age of 8 years old, and receiving my street education on the south side of Chicago, I was well aware of who Sweetness was. It was the jersey number all the kids wanted (I grabbed 80, however, because my father told me that was his number) and myself and all my 8-9 year old teammates knew how to do the “Walter Payton high step.” So when my father asked me what I wanted for my birthday, the natural obvious answer was to go to a Chicago Bears football game to watch old number 34 do his thing. Dad told me he would make that happen. The Bears played the Dallas Cowboys on September 30, 1984. I turned 9 that day. The Dallas Cowboys were hot shit back in the early ’80′s so this was yet another exciting thing for me. I don’t know if it was from foresight or lack of availability (considering I have his genes I like to think it was likely procrastination and thus lack of availability) but my dad had to come to me and tell me he wouldn’t be taking me the Bear’s September 30th game. Putting it mildly, I was crushed. My father tried to calm my disappointment by telling me he purchased tickets to the October 7th game merely one week away. Big deal! My birthday would pass and I wouldn’t be at a game. Plus they were playing the New Orleans Saints, a perennially bottom-dweller.
In the end things usually have a way of working out for the best if you can just accept them at face value and keep an open and positive mind about things. The Bears went on to lose to the Cowboys and beat the Saints. Perhaps expected, but nevertheless a positive experience. Now 25 years later, the October 7, 1984 Bears game remains the only Bears game I have attended.
25 years to the day minus one week actually. Today, I reached 34 years of age. I’m doing my best to not reflect on the previous 33 years but at the same time, for the first time, I elected to stay home, alone, and just let the day pass me by. So it’s tough not to reflect on my life. I did this with a positive outlook knowing it was by choice, but then I wonder if that choice is a sign of old age setting in. Nevertheless I felt I still owed myself the opportunity to celebrate the day for myself if nothing else. So off to the store I went. I ride home with satchels iulled with fresh sweetcorn and a pork loin, both which will roast over an open-coal fire shortly, and a bottle of Myer’s dark rum and Reed’s Ginger Brew soda. Oh, and a bag of ice. Yeah, we know how to party.
The dark rum mixed with Ginger Beer makes a Dark -n- Stormy; a scrumptious summertime beverage. Yes, I realize it is no longer summer in the great Midwest. I can drink these year-round. When you own a 320 gallon reef aquarium it isn’t hard to imagine your setting is someplace other than snow covered corn stalks come January. Toss in my Hibiscus, the humidity from the aquarium, and the scent of saltwater, and reality doesn’t set in until you set out the front door.
So I begin to prep my first drink for the night and disaster strikes. Firmly attached to my Myer’s rum bottle is an electronic security cap. Obviously a failed removal by the store employee. This isn’t good – I’m thirsty. A phone call ensues to the store. I explain the situation - a paid-for bottle was removed from your store with security device attached yet no alarm sounded and now I can’t drink it… what to do? The first person, a female, clearly doesn’t understand the situation. Like I said… female. She tells me my “only choice” is to return to the store with receipt and they will remove it. Uhm,… no. Get me your supervisor. A gentleman picks up the discussion with me and tells me I really need to come back and get it off. Uhm… no. Just tell me how to take the darn thing off and I’ll return your device tomorrow and even tote my receipt along for posterity. He finally concedes that a strong magnet will deactivate it. Well, define deactivate please. Am I getting shot with ink, electrocuted, hands covered in blue dye… what? My strongest magnet is the letter “Z” firmly attached to my refrigerator. He won’t say but removing the device in any manner other than with proper equipment will result in damage to the bottle. Uhm,… OK.
Now… if you are like me… namely a male with plenty of testosterone running through your body… you were just awarded a full-on challenge to your manhood. “Impossible” is so worth testing. It’s a guy thing. Dammit, I own power tools. I’m not saying I won’t concede failure as I’m using a coffee filter to strain broken glass chips from my rum, but I will be drinking that rum tonight, and I won’t be returning to the store, and no matter how that is accomplished, it won’t be failure.
I convene to the man cave and search tools. A flat head screwdriver is my logical first choice but I’m not overly excited by the option simply because I don’t get to plug it in. Ahhh yes, the multi-purpose Dremel. What a great invention. As it turns out I do not have any cutting discs. I can sand or buff this security device to death, but can’t cut it with the Dremel. I search out a hand saw. Oh wait, I can’t plug that in either. Shit. I grab my circular saw. Hell to the yeah I’m cutting this bitch off. Oh shit, no blade. Wait, that’s not true, I moved the blade to my table saw. MY TABLE SAW. Oh hell yes. How better to celebrate your birthday than to cut open a bottle of rum with a laser-guided table saw?
I made one fatal flaw here – I applied common sense. Before taking the 10 minutes to clear off and prep the table saw for use, I would apply one good, strong, hard pull atop this bottle-capping security device. I grab the bottle in one hand and the device in the other, I hunch over the bottle and brace myself then finally exert all my force to rip this device off. I promptly crush my funny bone as the security device slides right off with extreme ease and my elbow crashes into my work bench. The store manager was correct – I damaged the bottle neck paper logo.
Impossible is nothing. Whether it is removing a security device from a bottle of rum, or breaking the then all-time NFL rushing record as Walter Payton did against the New Orleans Saints on October 7, 1984, if you want something accomplished, tell a man that it’s impossible. One way or another, we get what we deserve.
