The Gatorade Incident

So Carol K. "Lucky" asked me tonight about the Gatorade Incident. If there was ever a time when I wished a camera was on me to record my idiocy so that I could relive it later, this was it.

We had left Sedona AZ after a great lunch at a Mexican restaurant called Oaxaca. Upstairs seating on the open patio with gorgeous view of the mountains - perfect. Anyway, it's frigging hot (seems to be the theme for this ride, except for the one day we were riding alongside snow and ice 11,000 feet up in the Colorado mountains!) and I had filled my camelback with yummy orange gatorade. Safety First - Hydrate!!

Keep in mind that up to this point, I'm riding along, feeling powerful and sexy - in my leather cruising the desert highway. Becky is back with me, and Renee and Colleen are up ahead.

About 20 mins into the ride I decide it's time to take a sip - and realize that the nozzle is stuck in the strap under my arm. So I fiddle with it for a bit, and finally get impatient and give it a good yank. And that is when all hell breaks loose.

With that tug, the nozzle pops off of the hose, and suddenly I have a firehose squirting all over me, the bike, my windshield, even Becky's bike behind me. I cannot for the life of me catch the damn hose, so it sprays like a demented sea monster spewing orange gatorade. It is so ludicrous that I lose it, leaning over my gas tank laughing hysterically. And it's a good thing I ducked like that - for it gets worse.

Apparently from the sky, my out of control camelback hose must have looked like some sort of exotic worm - because all of a sudden I was divebombed by a bird. Yes, a frigging bird. It swooped down and changed its mind at the last possible moment, but the damage was done. I was now screaming with laughter, and managed to pull off to the side of the road so that I wouldn't wet my pants.

Becky pulled off after me and was laughing too, but I don't think even she realized how funny I found it all - you see, I have a history of working myself into a moment - sort of like my own cool music video - and then something happens that brings me back to reality. Like the time I went to a business meeting at a posh hotel in San Diego, wearing a new suit that I thought was pretty hip. I made it through the event, doing quite well, and then said my goodbyes. It wasn't till I was walking back down the hallway and caught my reflection in a mirrored door that I realized that my pant legs had static clinged their way up to just below my knees. I looked like frigging Captain Hook.

Or the time I was feeling especially sassy in a new dress, high heels, and nylons, and had stopped quickly into a Hallmark store to pick up a birthday card for a colleague. I pranced in there (that's what you do when you're 23), and was choosing a card as quickly as possible because I HAD THINGS TO DO AND I WAS SASSY. Someone tapped me on the shoulder and I whipped around, expecting to rebuff some man in heat. Instead it was a nice motherly woman, who leaned forward and whispered, "Dear, you've tucked the entire back of your dress into your nylons." And so I had. As neatly as if I were folding a diaper.

Or...and I know that the Sol Sisters would call me on it if I neglected to mention it - there was the incident that won me the Spoon at one of our monthly meetings. Once again, I was wrapped up in how cool I must have looked pulling up to a chopper shop in SD - and then ruined it all by completely forgetting how to get off my bike, instead launching myself into a tuck and roll in the parking lot. Given the fact that I was also wearing my "Elvis" white and silver leather pants, you can imagine that I was hard to miss. As my son Noah says, "Mom, you're reeaallll smooth."

So that's what the Gatorade Incident meant to me, and why it cracked me up. Just when I think I'm ALL THAT, something happens to remind me that I'm really a dork. And that, my friends, is alright with me.

Whaassup! Sporting the latest in GATORADE GEAR