Whilst inside Columbia County's best-kept secret the Book Barn, located deep in the forest near our farm – I stumbled upon Columbia County's other best-kept secret: the crossbeam about 6 feet up between the Mystery and American History section. I walked into this crossbeam with such force that my skull resonated throughout the bookstore and made ordinary shoppers gasp with horror. At the time, I was holding two full glasses of water meant for the coolant system of the misbehaving Land Rover, and even though I was almost knocked clean out, I managed to stumble to the car with water intact.
Thus began nine hours of a Top 15 Lifetime Headache, a drowsiness and pain rolling over in waves, the sort of throbbing nightmare that three Advil could scarcely penetrate. Staring a 2-hour drive in the face, I resorted to the old tried-and-true Three Excedrin Plan, which wired me up like a fake Christmas tree all the way down the Taconic State Parkway. Now I sit in bed still in a sort of cerebellic hangover, still buzzing from all the caffeine in the Excedrin, praying it will stop raining in time for hoops tomorrow so I can work this shit out of my system.
The courts we use on the weekends are terrible: right off the Triboro Bridge, it's a sloped, cracked asphalt hoops playground with 9.5 foot rims guaranteed to fuck up your shot (and if that doesn't do it, the rims cruelly bent down about 15 degrees - takes away even the most casual layups). But it is hoops, it is outdoors, and it keeps you from being complacent. God knows I don't get complacent – I've hurled some of my best larnyx-shredding profanities at these courts, much to the embarrassment of my fellow players. Maybe another 10mg of Celexa on the weekends might curb the Poisoned Squirrel Dances slated for each botched basketball shot careening off the most unfriendly rims in the tri-state area.
Posted by at October 12, 2002 8:24 PM